The guys on either side double over, laughing so hard they nearly fall off the bench.
“Welcome gift from the team,” Marcus says, and hands it to me with mock solemnity. “I wanted to get you something a little nicer, but … I think this is relevant.”
It’s funny. Just laugh, Dom. Laugh.
I give it my best shot. But instead, it comes out like a choking cow.
Marcus makes a weird face and then gives my shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Don’t sweat it, bro. Hazing means you’re one of us. Well, almost. You gotta earn it, but you play hard. We’re excited you’re on the team.”
“Yeah. For sure.” My tone is flat.
In Alabama, I knew my place. Here, I’m still auditioning.
The other two players slap me on the back and retreat, high-fiving on the way to the protein fridge. Marcus lingers just a second longer. “For real, though. Good work today. Coach rides the new guys hardest. Next week will be easier. And I’m sure”—he glances at my bare feet—“you’ll sort out the shoe issue.”
I nod, but I can’t think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t sound stupid. Marcus waits, maybe hoping for a joke, then just smiles and heads off.
I’m left alone, staring at my reflection in the inside of my locker door, and then at my lap. The bottle of Pet PEE-rific sits beside me, and as much as I hate it…
I’m probably going to use it.
The rookie aims his phone at me again. “Hey, say what up to the feed, Neelson! They loved seeing you!”
I wave, half-heartedly and hope he edits me out.
But I bet he doesn’t.
The room starts to empty. The guys leave in packs, headed for sushi or green juice or who knows what. I linger, taking my sweet time to lace up my casual sneakers and avoiding any more socializing.
The locker room gets quiet; the only noise is the hum of a thousand electronics charging up for tomorrow.
I stare at the bottle of Pet PEE-rific as I stand to my feet. I tuck it into my bag, right on top, like maybe if I look at it long enough, I’ll start to find the joke funny.
But for some reason, I don’t think I will.
It’s late by the time I walk out. The sun is just starting to set as I head for my truck, the bottle rattling in my bag.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that tomorrow canalwaysbe better.
I just have to prove I belong here first.
And maybe fix the smell.
Chapter Four
Nicole
It’s been two days since the shoe incident.
And Istillhaven’t figured out how to look my new neighbor in the eye.
“Hey.” My big sister answers my FaceTime call with a smile. “Looks like you’re baking today?”
“Almond flour cookies.” I beam, holding up the recipe for her to see. “I was in desperate need of a comfort treat.”And an excuse to keep my hands busy.I wedge my phone between a flour container and the sriracha, angling it so that she can watch. Nora’s face is framed by a messy topknot and what appears to be finger paint onher T-shirt. Behind her, I spot my nieces twirling in princess dresses and a cat on the countertop.
It’severythingcomforting.
“You look great,” Nora says, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “You’re so much moresunkissedsince you moved from New York.”
