Scoring Forever: a best friends to enemies to lovers sports romance

1. Ivy

Fact: 27% of those who worked in football organizations were women. If you went into the top quarter of payments, the number dropped to 14%.

Fact: there were more than 58,000 licensed athletic trainers around the world.

Another fact: my parents acted like they weren’t disappointed I would never be an athlete after a drunk driver hit me as a kid, ruining any chance of playing any sport. That happened when your leg and arm shattered.

I had other talents, but my parents didn’t care about those as much. I mean, heck, I could write with both hands, cosplay as Wednesday Addams, and win any board game, but could I ever make a sports team in my life? No. And as my parents were professional coaches, this was the greatest fault I had.

Did I also use facts to ease my brain when I was nervous? Yes. Did you know the body had a billion nerve cells?

“Emerson,” a rough voice barked out, pulling me from my inner turmoil.

“Yes, sir.” I stood straighter, gripping my fingers behind my lower back, cracking each knuckle three times to rid myself of this energy.

Fact: the only benefit of cracking knuckles was to release emotional stress.

I smoothed out my dark navy polo shirt, ensuring it was tucked into my khaki shorts. My internship coordinator, Henry Reiss, was a walking juxtaposition. He was tall and had an angry, deep voice and hard lines around his eyes. He was also patient, kind, and phenomenal at teaching. He was the football team’s head athletic trainer.

His gruff exterior had startled me at first, and even now, a few weeks into my senior year internship, his tone frightened me.

“I want you and Abe to work the restoration room today after practice. Tend to those on the list and any walk-ins. If they skip, let me know.” Henry tapped his clipboard on his desk and jutted his chin at the door. “Clean and check stock before you head out. My assistant is doing a run tomorrow before the big game this weekend.”

“We’re on it, sir.” Abe Smith motioned for me to go first through the door. Most mornings, all the interns met in Henry’s office where he assigned us tasks for the day. In the three weeks since Abe and I started full-time, we’d done cleanup in the rooms, training room, restoration, and field duty. My favorite moments were being on the field, inhaling the scent of fresh-cut grass, and hearing all the sounds of football.

My strongest senses were smell and sound. I wasn’t sure I could survive without them. Podcasts, audiobooks, and candles gave me life most days. But seeing how my parents were “live or breathe sports” types, there was a nostalgic feeling being on the field.

There were some not so great memories there too, but I shoved those away.

“I don’t know how you keep it so cool, Ivy. Being around these guys is wild to me. They are borderline famous, and some of them are going to end up in the NFL. I get to say that I tapped Dean Romano’s foot or Callum O’Toole took an ice bath I made.”

The usual blip of the stomach came and went, but it was faster now. You’d think three full years of hearing his name, seeing his face, and watching girls fall for him left and right would numb me to his presence, but it was impossible. Callum was a person one never forgot and couldn’t ignore. He was my opposite in every way. I was short, shy, and liked cats and game nights, while he was massive, loud, life of the party, a huge flirt, total dog person, and chose parties over quiet evenings.

I used to know everything about him, but that was then. This was now, and the current version of Callum wasn’t one I knew, so it was easy to pretend to be strangers. Because we really are.

“Dude, you can’t fangirl over them. They are just people who play football. Don’t get me wrong, if I ever met one of the NATA winners, I’d probably cry a little bit.”

“NATA?”

“National Athletic Trainers Association? Abraham. My dude. Why are you in this program without knowing our Forefathers?”

He laughed, a rich deep sound that made me smile too. Abraham was in his senior year like me and loved football so much he’d created a career path to be near it. I questioned his sanity there. I enjoyed helping people, and since I grew up around sports my entire life, working with athletes behind the scenes became a goal. Despite not being an athlete, I was highly competitive, and this role let me be a part of the world, playing to my strengths. Plus, after surviving the injuries I did, I grew really close with my physical therapists. Being able to help others through injuries around a sport I loved was a dream come true. It reminded me I was strong despite my injuries, and every day I proved to myself I could do it.

Our footsteps echoed on the tiled floor as we walked from the office toward the training room. This place had a huge facility, which was awesome as hell. The restoration room had large tubs for ice, tables where players could get tapped and ice wrapped around their muscles. As a shy, fact-loving person, I’d never truly been a part of teams. I always watched from the outside in, but being in this role felt like a safer version of that. I was working toward something. I was a part of a larger movement, and damn if that wasn’t the dream.

“Do you know who is in the NFL hall of fame?”

“I’m sure I could name a few, but I’m not here for the egos, Abe, I’m here to help get players ready to get back onto the field.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

“Oliver Stevens, first pick all-state both junior and senior year, Toledo Ohio, best hair in the league,” Abe said, his words slurring together a little too fast.

Oliver narrowed his eyes at Abe, flicking his gaze to me for a second before laughing. “All true. Make sure to tell O’Toole about the hair. He gets pissed when he hears it.”

Abe had half a smile and half a manic look on his face. I elbowed his side as I grinned at Oliver. “We’re heading to the restoration room. Do you need anything?”

“I’m sore as fuck.” He rotated his left shoulder, wincing.

“It’s been a few days. We should get you in the ice bath for fifteen minutes. I’ll get it started,” I said. I adjusted my thick glasses before walking a little faster toward the room.

It smelled like a locker room, which was a horrible and pleasant smell to me. Being the daughter of two semi-famous coaches meant I spent most of my time trailing my parents, and that meant lots of locker rooms. I turned the lights on and began the process of filling the large metal tubs. Players tended to take them every other day. Fact: if you were trying to build muscle, then you should take an ice bath twenty-four to forty-eight hours after the workout.

A little mirror was placed there, and of course the guys looked in at it. Rumor was there would be a girl on the team next year, and it made my stomach flutter. I wished I’d still be here when that happened. There needed to be more female representation here, and after this internship, I planned to apply for a seasonal role with the NFL. It was the easiest way to secure a full-time spot with a team, and that was the goal. That meant not screwing this up at alland being the best intern we had.

Henry could recommend as many as he wanted but made it a challenge to only choose one. I’d make sure it was me.

Fact: there were only twenty-one female athletic trainers in the NFL. I wanted to make that number twenty-two just out of spite. I watched Just Wright with my mom so many times that I wanted to channel Queen Latifah and be badass.

I had both tubs filled and checked the chart to see if anyone signed up or if the coaches determined someone had to do it. Generally, the players listened and obeyed when it came to their physical health. They wanted to be on the field all the time, so preventative care was easy.

It was the concussions or injuries that slowed them down that caused them to be… sassy.

“Ready for me?” Oliver walked in, wearing black shorts that hung low on his hips. While Abe was starstruck by the talent the guys had, I had to bite my cheek sometimes when they lost their clothes.

I wasn’t a prude. I wasn’t innocent, per se, but being around hot, naked, sweaty guys wasn’t a place I was comfortable or used to. Like now. Oliver wasn’t like Luca Monroe or Brady Smith, with their large rippling muscles, but he was toned, and it reminded me that it had been months since I had any connection with a guy.

Keeping my eyes on his face because I was a professional, I smiled. “Sure am. Hop in. I’ll set the timer.”

He neared the tub and hissed as he stared at it. “It never gets easier.”

“I can spout the science about it at you if that’ll help.” I adjusted the orange bow in my hair.

“Okay, Emerson. Talk nerdy to me while I torture myself.”

I snorted, hitting go on the fifteen-minute timer as Oliver lowered himself into the tub. He released a grunt that I swore vibrated the walls. “Fact: the water is dilating the blood vessels, and cold water constricts them, creating a pumping flow that is good for inflammation.”

“It’s hard to breathe,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes closed. He gripped the side of the tub hard.

“Count to ten slowly.” I neared the tub, keeping my voice steady and my face serious. While I wasn’t a coach like my parents, I knew that bedside manner and confidence were half the battle. “You can do this, Oliver. Your body needsthis to be the best. Now, inhale with me.”

He did.

“Exhale for ten beats.” I waited, my gaze steady as he settled into the ice. His attention moved to me, and I nodded. “See? You can do hard things.”

“You’re so good at this, Ivy,” Abe said, walking into the restoration room with a shadow behind him. I kept my focus on Oliver, but the air changed around me. It felt heavier, like a static energy before a summer thunderstorm. My pulse sped up with the weight of it, but I forced myself to be immune.

Kind of like Oliver and the ice bath. I knew it was better for my soul to ignore the feeling, to not give in to the urge to glance up and see who caused the change. I knew who it was. Of course I knew, but it didn’t matter.

“Twelve more minutes, Oliver. You can do this. Tell me if you need to focus on something else.”

“I want more facts,” he grunted out.

“Ivy and her facts,” Abe said, chuckling. “Callum, once you get in, I’ll start the timer.”

“Thanks.”

That deep, friendly voice hit me in the chest like a sack. Some people were born with the ability to charm with just a look or a lilt to their voice, but Callum oozed charisma in everything he did. He drew people to him with his magnetic personality and ability to make you think you were the most important thing in the world.

Until you weren’t. Then the sun stopped shining, and everything got colder. That thin layer of ice around my heart only strengthened in the three weeks since I’d been with the football team, and our interactions had been limited.

But this was the first time I had to be with him in a room for fifteen minutes.

My smart watch buzzed, alerting me my pulse was higher than normal, and I wanted to say yeah, no shit, you dumb technology robot. What would you do if your former childhood best friend turned enemy walked into a tiny room? Tell me that, Siri.

Chewing my lip, I went to the check the stock of supplies. We were absolutely full as I’d done it yesterday, but how could I just stand here? If it was any other player, I’d small talk or ask about the upcoming game against Ohio, but that was too far for me.

“Know any facts about our upcoming rival game?” Oliver asked, his voice still gruff. “Keep me busy. I’m burning right now.”

“Dude, you’ve done these before. Don’t be a baby about it,” Callum said.

I heard rather than saw Callum get into his tub without a hiss or grunt or reaction. The ice swished against the tub, his body lowering into the water. Abe approached him, his familiar footsteps heavy.

“You okay, O’Toole?”

“Absolutely. I love cold baths. They make me tougher, unlike Oli over there.”

I’d seen Oliver do them before, and he wasn’t like this. Frowning, I set the clipboard down and neared him. “Hey, any chance you’re stressed out?”

“I mean.” He blinked. “Normal stuff.”

“High heart rate or tachycardia could cause the rush to make you lightheaded, and this wouldn’t feel good at all. If anything, it could be dangerous.” I checked his pulse under his jaw. Way too fast. “Get out.”

“Wait, really?”

Adrenaline coursed through me. High blood pressure could cause dangerous issues if not dealt with. I’d seen that with my parents countless times. “I’m sending you to Ms. Frixton. She can confirm that you don’t have any medicine mixing. Ice baths hurt but not like this.” I tapped the side of the tub. “Seriously, get out.”

He pushed up, hissing as he slid out of the tub and stumbled. “Whoa.”

“Here.” I slid up to his side, supporting him as cold water drenched me. “I got you.”

“Ivy, have Abe support him,” Callum barked out. Gone was the flirty tone. “He’s way too heavy for you.”

“I can handle it, O’Toole,” I hissed back at him.

“Abe, get your ass over there and help her.”

“Right, uh, yes.“ Abe blinked before joining Oliver on the other side.

Oliver groaned and slid farther onto me, his weight putting strain on my knees, and I grunted slightly. Not a large grunt, but it was noticeable enough for Callum to hop out of his tub in workout shorts that showed so much thigh.

“For fuck’s sake.” He shoved me out of the way, not so gently, and supported Oliver’s weight. “Know your limits, Ivy. You physically can’t carry him.”

Tears prickled my eyes. I hated being told I couldn’t do something, especially in that condescending tone from him. “I can and will handle him.”

“No. Now Abe, let’s get his ass to Frixton.”

“I can?—”

“No. Back up, Ivy. I know you can’t do this.”

Abe’s eyes widened, clearly confused why Callum would speak to me that way. He sent me a concerned look, but I didn’t care. I wanted them out, away from me. I hated Callum in that moment, tossing our past in my face like it was no big deal. Sure, he knew about my childhood injury, but it didn’t matter now.

I was stronger. I could do this. I could break the glass ceiling in the football world, but what if I didn’t get the internship because I couldn’t support a player’s weight? I took a few calming breaths, wiping the floor where water spilled over and making sure the baths were ready for the next guys.

Fact: some people viewed compartmentalizing as negative, but it had temporary benefits that I was leaning into hard—I shoved all the worry and insecurities and hurt aside. I tucked them into nice, neat boxes in the back of my head, where I would unpack them later. I refused to let Callum put me down again,and that meant keeping my head high.