“And here I thought maybe you were done with being delusional.”
His head tipped back, and laughter erupted from his throat, shameless and loud, like we were sharing some kind of inside joke instead of barely tolerating each other’s existence. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he lived for this—for the back-and-forth, the baiting, the way I gave back just as much.
I practically had a stress twitch from those years of me and him sharing the same classes all the damn time. Sports therapy and rehabilitation were both of our course choices, which sparked a rivalry so fierce between us, we used to often sabotage each other… even when we were paired together for assignments. It wasn’t my finest years, nor his, and all that was left now is the bitterness.
“Let’s get this over with. Shall we?” Micah suggested. I was grateful for her being here.
“Things girls rarely say to me, but go on.”
Micah stood, unamused. I knew she’d let us hash it out together; it was probably for the best. “You know what? I’mgoing to need hydration first. I’ll get drinks and snacks. Be right back.”
Well, so much for me being grateful for her.
I sighed, wishing I could follow her. I was getting a migraine already. I’d need to look at an ice bath later to shake this meeting off. “Look, I know this is shit for you, but if you want my help, you’ll need to stop being an ass and actually figure this out, captain to captain. Pissing more people off isn’t going to get us anywhere. And it’s obvious neither of us are thrilled to be in the situation we’re in, but it is what it is.”
Another smile slowly stretched across his face, earning me a front-row seat to a chin dimple I was all too familiar with and apparently so were my teammates in this morning’s training. The rookies fawned over one of his social media videos. I didn’t share the same visceral reaction as they did, thankfully.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“Because you’re bossy.”
“And that’s funny?”
“I’d forgotten how fun it is riling you up.”
I stood so abruptly my chair scraped loudly across the floor. My mouth opened to ream him out, but he placed his hand on my arm, and everything in me paused, mid-breath, like someone had cut the power. There wasn’t a single thought running through my head. His touch wasn’t threatening, but… unexpected. His calloused thumb brushed once, a barely-there motion, and for a split-second, he looked honest. His voice dropped too, with a softness I’d not heard before and I didn’t trust it.
“Teddy… I am taking this seriously.”
I blinked at him, unsure whether to believe it or throw his hand off and walk straight out the door. He was always performing, always half a joke away from derailing any serious moment. Iknewthis. Back in college, when we were stucktogether for a sports psych project, any time we got close to agreeing on something, he’d grin and derail the entire hypothesis. It drove me crazy because I could never tell if he didn’t care, or cared too much. But now, something in his expression shifted just enough to make me think, because from a captain’s point of view, I can understand his desperation. And that was clearly what this was. I was his green card to an easier season.
Coach Emery’s words echoed in my mind.“Let’s make waves, Teddy.”I had to concede and be civil, at the very least. My pride would take a hit, but my team wouldn’t.
“Maybe we don’t treat everything like a war,” he almost whispered, still not letting go of me. “Maybe we meet in the middle this time.” Everything between us had always been a sprint to the top. Even when we were paired up, we still argued over who presented the most or who did the most work.
And I hated that the suggestion made sense. Hated it more that his hand still hadn’t moved, and neither had I. What was happening?
But for once, he wasn’t pushing just to provoke me. There was no smirk, no smug punchline loaded behind his eyes. I only saw a leader whose team was relying on him to come up with a solution. And maybe a hint of nerves he was trying like hell to mask.
If nothing else—if absolutely nothing else—we saw eye to eye on that. And that’s what would get me through this. Him, me, and the next few months of forced cooperation, bruised pride, and mutual restraint.
And probably a lot of swearing into pillows when he inevitably got under my skin.
Now, if he’d only let go of my arm too.
3
Connor
“This is doable, right?” Even I could hear the hope in my voice, because if she told me that her management wasn’t willing to help, then I’d to go back to my team empty-handed, and that wasn’t an option. I wouldn’t be the captain who couldn’t pull us through this crisis. The one who let the Knights become a cautionary tale: great roster, but no fight in them. My grandad’s legacy would end with me failing, and the club’s reputation going along with it. We were still the same hungry team; I intended to keep it that way. The lads needed stability and structure, not chaos and skipped training sessions. If I walked back to them without a solution, I may as well resign now.
She nodded, and a few strands of hair fell out of her braid as she did, fingers flying over her iPad screen, where I spotted the calendar app open. “Let’s start with training. That takes up most of our time here. What’s your schedule?”
“Uh…” I glanced down at the paper I’d crumpled in my hoodie pocket. “We lift Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Gym from seven to nine in the morning. Usually, PT after. Pitch sessions follow atten or eleven, but not before game days. Tactical and video every other afternoon.”
Teddy glanced up from her screen, her eyebrows lifting. “That’s… loose.”
I frowned. “It’s structured.”
