“Sorry.” She looks up from what I take to be my new vacuum sealer. “I lost track of time.”
I take in the pile of individually packaged snacks stacked on my kitchen island, the pot simmering on my stove, and the smell of drying apples wafting from the oven. “No problem. This is more action than the kitchen has seen since I moved in. What am I looking at?”
“You have a lot of processed crap and instant food in the pantry and freezer. Don’t worry, I didn’t throw anything out, but… you’re an athlete. Nutrition is important. For everyone, obviously, but being physically fit is part of your job. Here.”
Nobody’s ever done this for me. Not my exes. Not anyone. Not like this. She holds out a ball of, shit, I don’t know, it kind of looks like it came out the back end of an animal. I accept her offering and seriously consider tossing it in the trash. But she’s watching me intently, waiting for my reaction, and given how many hot dogs I’ve eaten over the course of my life, it’s not likewhatever she’s made is beneath me. I bite it in half and roll it around in my mouth.
“Oh,” I mumble. “Shff.Aff goof.” I hold up one finger, chew, and swallow. “Sorry, shouldn’t talk with my mouth full. But that’s good. What’s in there?”
Minerva ticks her answers off on her fingers. “Dark chocolate, beetroot powder, honey, salt, collagen, almond flour, and love.”
I pause with the other half raised halfway to my lips. “Love? Is that a euphemism for something? Is this like…the healthy equivalent of a pot brownie?”
The cutest lopsided smile sneaks onto her face. “No. It means what I said. I bake with love.”
My chest goes warm at that—too warm—and I pretend it’s from the beetroot. “Got it. These are great. Thank you, Minnie.”
“I’ve been careful to balance the micro- and macronutrients on all these snacks, and I’ve made a spreadsheet so that you can track what you’re eating during your away games, with suggested meals for the times you go out to eat with the team. At home, of course, I can be more involved in making sure that our meals are both nutrient-richanddelicious. I’ve done a lot of research. Also. Do you mind calling me Minerva? Um… does it bother you to have to say that many syllables? I know the team mostly goes by nicknames.”
“Is that your full name?” I ask, surprised.
She nods, her eyes trained on her cooking project rather than my face. I know she’s usually single-minded about her tasks, but I suspect that she’s also avoiding eye contact. Does she think I’drefuse?
“It’s pretty. And it suits you.” She wants to be called by her full name. Not smaller. Not minimized. Good.
“Because I’m pretty.” Her voice is flat, like she’s calling me out for some bullshit, even though I wasn’t trying to throw an empty compliment her way.
“Because Minerva was the goddess of intellectuals, right? In Greece or Rome or whatever.”
Minerva raises her head and blinks owlishly, which is also thematically appropriate, given the goddess’s sacred bird. “Minerva was the Roman name.”
“And the Greeks called her Athena, right?” I test my luck and sneak another of those tasty chocolate-and-beetroot balls. “She was the goddess of machines and innovation, but also of guarding the home, if I remember my high school history correctly. So, yeah, it suits you.”
Minerva’s cheeks turn pink. “That… is a very nerdy compliment.”
The way she blushes makes something low in my core tighten. I pick up one of the baggies and point to the label, on which she’s scrawledENERG-8.“Are you really callingmea nerd?”
“We can both be nerds,” she murmurs, but she’s smiling.
“And here I was afraid we’d have to fight to establish nerd-dominance.”
She considers this. “It would have to be a nerdy fight, though, wouldn’t it?”
“You, me, Trivial Pursuit, after dinner?”
“I’d like that,” she says.
“Let me grab a shower, and we’ll make it happen.”
We sit down to the game two hours later, after I’ve cleared and washed the dishes from dinner, and Minerva has changed into pajamas. Kepler drapes himself across her shoulders like a scarf while we play.
To nobody’s surprise, Minerva kicks my ass. But it doesn’t matter. Because when she smiles at me that way, I feel stupidly proud of myself.
* * *
By the time our next away game rolls around, I can already feel a difference in both my body and my performance. I’ve been killing it during practice, and I can tell tonight is going to be my best game of the season so far. While we change for the game against the Redhawks, I sneak a pregame snack.
Sneak might not be the right word, actually. I’ve barely peeled back the plastic when Knight pops up at my elbow.
