I smile. During competitions. When I’m hanging with my girls. And pretty much any time I’m not being forced to share space with obnoxious players who treat women like they’re disposable and have the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old.
“You have no idea what you’re talk—”
“Something you’d like to share with the class, Miss…?” Mac asks loudly, pinning me with a questioning look.
Dios mío. Heat floods my cheeks as I force myself to answer. “Cruz. And, no, sir.”
“Mac,” he returns, correcting me in nearly the same manner he corrected Parker earlier.
The only difference? There’s less warmth this time.
Just freaking great.
I shoot a glare at Parker, who smirks.
Becauseof coursehe does.
“If you’re gunning for the internship, I think the idea is to make apositivefirst impression,” he whispers, bumping my knee as Mac resumes his lecture about proper field conduct.
“Bite me.” I smile, forcing the words through my teeth. “That internship is mine.”
“Yeah? Mac will have to learn your name first.”
Jackass.
I vow to ignore Parker and his stupid knee and turn my attention back to Mac, determined to redeem myself.
With any luck, he’ll forget all about my little disruption by next week.
* * *
Three hours later,my brain is mush and I’m emotionally drained as I flop down at a table in the HUB. The lunch rush is in full swing and Maddie, Brooke, and Soraya are already eating when I arrive. Maddie slides a grilled chicken salad my way and I flash her a grateful smile.
“You are a lifesaver.” I remove the lid and grab a plastic fork from the tray in the center of the table. “I’m tired, and famished, and I’d probably chew my own arm off if I had to stand in line.”
“I hear that.” Soraya plucks a baby carrot from the dish in front of her and holds it up for inspection. “I was up until two this morning finishing the reading for Psych Research Methods.”
Brooke feigns a snore and Soraya abandons her inspection of the carrot, throwing it at her roommate. Brooke dodges and it flies over her shoulder, landing on the floor.
“Not all of us can major in Home Ec,” Soraya says, smoothing down a strand of dark hair that’s escaped her ponytail.
Brooke grins, utterly shameless. “You mean Family and Consumer Sciences.”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
Maddie and I exchange a glance and devolve into giggles.
Like us, Brooke and Soraya are total opposites, but somehow it works. This is the thing I love about college gymnastics—the camaraderie. Being part of a real team. One where I’m competing with my teammates, not against them.
It’s a completely different feel than elite gymnastics and, after years of standing in my sister’s shadow and fighting for every tenth of a point just to be seen, it’s allowed me to fall in love with the sport all over again.
Now when I’m fighting for tenths, it’s for me—and my team.
“This week is kicking my ass too,” I admit, stabbing a cherry tomato with my fork. “I’ve got an insane amount of reading to do this weekend.”
Which I need to squeeze in around my Wildcat duties.
Maddie groans. “Me too, but I’m hoping to get most of it done tonight.”
