Around me, heads nod; some serious, some lazy. Dylan raises his brows and leans toward Benny, murmuring something about omega PTs being high risk, and I cut him a look sharp enough to draw blood.
Coach sees it and sighs.
“And if any of you try something dumb,” he says, his tone bone-dry, “you’ll be on towel duty and skate sharpening until your next birthday. That clear?”
A ragged chorus of “yes, Coach” follows. It’s half sincere, half smart-ass, but he gets what he wants: their attention.
“She knows her shit,” he finishes. “Don’t test her. And don’t make me regret bringing her on, either.”
He gives one last nod and walks out, the door swinging behind him on a tired hinge.
For a second, the room is quieter than usual; then Marco leans toward Dylan, smirk already loaded.
“Okay, but did anyone else catch how Beau’s whole soul flinched when Coach said her name?”
I glare,hard,and Marco lifts his hands in surrender.
“Hey, I didn’t say anything about your live-in situation! Just making an observation, that’s all.”
“Didn’t need to,” Benny adds, abandoning his green concoction to shake protein powder into a bottle. “Town’s already buzzing. ‘New girl in the Wolfe house’? That headline practically wrote itself.”
“Pretty sure Ms. O’Hara at the post office thinks you’re married now,” Dylan adds, stretching his legs. “She told me, and I quote, ‘it’s about time Beau settled down.’”
That gets a few low chuckles.
“I heard she’s reorganizing your cabinets already,” Marco goes on. “Color-coded mugs. Alphabetized condiments.”
“Careful,” Benny warns. “That’s how they get you. One day it’s paprika, next day you’re shopping for bath mats together.”
“Watch it,” I growl.
Dylan leans forward, grinning as he places his elbows on his knees.
“Nah, seriously: when are you getting your own place, man?”
I don’t look at him as I grab a roll of pre-wrap from the bin.
“When they start paying me like I’m not working for exposure,” I say, tossing it into my locker with a dull thud.
Sarcastic applause breaks out.
“Guess you’re stuck with her then,” Marco laughs. “Not that I’m judging. PTs are cute. Strong hands, too—”
I glare at him again, and this time, he shuts up mid-sentence.
Benny whistles. “That right there? That’s the ‘shut the hell up before he breaks your jaw with one arm’ look.”
“I’m just saying,” Marco mutters. “Kinda hard not to notice the whole setup. New PT, new roommate, and tension so thick I could tape my ankle with it. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Maybedon’t,” I bite. “You’re already skating like a toddler in rented boots.”
“OOOHHH,” someone from the back bench supplies.
“Alright, alright,” Theo sighs. “Call off the wolves, boys. Let the man live.”
“I am living,” I say, pulling my hoodie over my head. “Very peacefully. With minimal disruption.”
Dylan snorts. “With that face? Peaceful’s a stretch.”
