“Can't wait,” I said, and okay, that was definitely sarcasm.
“Good.” He shifted his weight, not moving away but also not crowding me. “You adjusted well today. Stayed wide on the breakouts like I asked.”
Praise. Specific. Earned.
I hated how much I wanted more of it.
“Just following the system,” I said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.
“That's the job.” He studied me for a second, and I couldn't read his expression at all. “You always this argumentative, or is it just first-day nerves?”
Wait.Was he teasing me?
“I'm not argumentative,” I said, then realized how that sounded. “I'm just making conversation.”
“Right.” The corner of his mouth curved up. Barely. “Conversation.”
Fuck, he was funny. I wasn't prepared for funny.
I tried a different tactic. Flirting. It worked on most people. Made them uncomfortable or interested, either way it gave me control.
“You always this intense, Coach? Or do you save the scary calm routine for special occasions?”
His eyes flicked down to my mouth for half a second, then back up.
“I'm consistent,” he said. “You'll get used to it.”
“Maybe I don't want to get used to it.” I tilted my head, testing. “Maybe I like keeping you on your toes.”
He didn't move. Didn't react. Just watched me with those unreadable eyes like he was cataloging every word, every tell, every stupid thing I was doing to try to get under his skin.
“Hartley,” he said finally, voice low and even. “Go home.”
I stepped around him, shoulder brushing his, closer than necessary, just to see what he'd do.
He didn't move. Didn't flinch.
I walked away, bag on my shoulder, hood still up, and I didn't look back even though I wanted to.
Leah was waitingwhen I pulled into my building's parking garage an hour later. Big sister energy radiating off her like a forcefield.
“Nope,” I said, getting out. “Whatever you're planning, I'm too tired.”
“You're coming to dinner.”
“I have meal prep at home.”
“You have protein powder and sadness. Get in my car.”
“Leah.”
She physically blocked my path to the elevator, all five-foot-six of her, wearing scrubs from her shift at the hospital and looking like she'd fight me if necessary. “I haven't seen you in three weeks. You've been dodging my calls. So yes, you're coming to dinner, and no, you don't get a vote.”
I tried to step around her. She moved with me, staying in my way.
“I hate you,” I said.
“No you don't. Car. Now.”
