I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, it was... complicated at first, but now it’s good. He’s the assistant coach for the team—he just graduated last year. And he just moved in with us off-campus.”
By the time we finish our meal and order a shared plate of churros, I feel lighter than I have in days.
"You know," I say, taking a sip of my margarita, "I didn't think I'd make any friends here. Not ones like this, at least."
Avery smiles warmly. "Well, I'm glad you did. I think you're stuck with me now."
I laugh, feeling genuinely happy. "Good. I could use someone like you around."
She grins. "Right back at you, Dylan."
We polish off our drinks, both of us too full to move right away, and I lean back in my chair with a content sigh.
“So, what do you say? Same time next week?” Avery asks, nudging my foot under the table.
I smile. “Deal.”
As we gather our things and prepare to head out, I check my phone one more time.
Matthew: Don’t forget. Workout when I get home.
A thrill runs down my spine, and my lips curl into a grin as I type back:
Me: You’d better not keep me waiting.
Avery catches the mischievous look on my face. "Which one is that?"
"Matthew.”
"Girl, you’ve got it bad," she teases, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
I laugh. "You have no idea."
Chapter 31
Matthew
Istand with my arms crossed, watching the guys file in one by one. The tension in the air is thick, and I know exactly why—it’s not just about lacrosse today. It’s about me.
I glance at Coach Woosley, who’s beside me, arms folded, his whistle hanging around his neck like a judge’s gavel. We both know this isn’t going away unless we snuff it out now.
“Alright, bring it in!” Woosley barks.
The guys shuffle closer, some dragging their feet, others muttering under their breath. A few avoid looking in my direction entirely, but I see them. I see the smirks, the whispers. It doesn’t bother me—I’ve heard it all before. What does bother me, though, is that Dylan has to put up with this bullshit, too. And I’ll be damned if she has to walk onto this field every day feeling like she’s got something to prove.
Woosley blows his whistle once. "Before we get into practice, we’ve got some things to clear up. Some of you have been running your mouths about things that don’t concern you.
“I’ve heard the comments. I’ve seen the snickers. And as of today I’ve seen video. I know some of you think you’re clever. But I’m here to remind you—this ismygoddamn team. And that means I make the calls. Got it?”
A low murmur can be heard, but Coach isn’t finished. “In case any of you have missed the memo, I chose Coach Dawson as my assistant. Not just because he knows the game, but because he’s damn good at what he does. If anyone here has a problem with that, you’re free to leave.”
He glances at me, giving a short nod—my cue.
I step forward, clipboard tucked under my arm, eyes sweeping over the team. “Let’s address the obvious.” My voice is calm, but loud enough to carry. “Yes, I’m the assistant coach. No, it’s not because of some backdoor favor. It’s because I know this game and I know how to win.”
The guys exchange looks, some skeptical, some neutral. I don’t give them a chance to interrupt.
“And yeah,” I say, locking eyes with the few who have been the worst offenders, “Dylan and I are together. Our parents are engaged. So if that’s been the source of your jokes—there it is. You got the scoop.” I raise a brow. “Anything else you want to snicker about?”
