“You’re quiet today,” she said.
“I’m meditating.”
“You’re threatening the ceiling with your eyebrows.”
“I’m from Texas. That’s still our face.”
She snorted.
The training room was busy, but not packed. A couple swimmers were icing shoulders. A baseball guy had his ankle wrapped. Two cheer girls were stretching near the wall, whispering while pretending not to look at me.
Or at the door.
Which opened five minutes later.
Of course.
Drew walked in with a protein shake in one hand and my backpack slung over one shoulder.
My backpack.
I sat up on my elbows. “Why do you have that?”
“You left it in the cafeteria.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You were going to. I prevented it.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is when I’m right.”
He crossed the room like he had every right to be there and dropped into the chair beside my table, stretching his legs out in front of him.
Tiffany looked at him. “You injured?”
“Emotionally.”
“Then leave.”
He handed me the shake. “Drink.”
I looked at it. “What is this?”
“Chocolate protein. Before you start, it tastes like a milkshake if you lie to yourself.”
“I didn’t ask for this.”
“You’re rehabbing. You need protein.”
“You are not my nutritionist.”
“No, I’m better-looking.”
Tiffany made a sound like she was trying not to laugh.
I took the shake because refusing would only make him more pleased with himself. “You’re obnoxious.”
