Chapter 15
Teddy
By the time training wrapped, my shirt clung to my spine and my brain felt like it had done twice the work my legs had. I’d been distracted the entire session, and pretending otherwise had only worn me down further.
It didn’t help that every time I caught a glimpse of Connor, still talking to Coach Emery like he belonged on our side of the pitch, my stomach had bottomed out and I lost focus.
“Teddy!” Coach Em called out, her voice carrying across the pitch. “With me for a second.”
I jogged over, towel slung around my neck, pulse finally settling. That lasted all of two seconds, because Connor was still beside her, arms folded loosely across his chest, expression unreadable.
Coach Em didn’t waste time. “Friday night, you and O’Riley are attending the league’s investor dinner.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, the what?”
“The investor dinner,” she repeated, as if I’d misheard. “All major club investors will be there. The board wants both captains present to represent their teams. Coach Knox and I will be there too.”
I stared at her, then at him, then very deliberately at the grass because breathing suddenly felt like work.
“What’s the dress code?”
“Formal.”
Of course it was. These things always were.
“I can pick you up,” Connor offered, and my eyes snapped to him.
“I can make my own way there,” I said, sharper than I meant to. God, why did he make me so defensive? Was it habit? Like muscle memory from years of pushing against him? Or was it something I really didn’t want to examine yet?
His gaze held mine. “I’d like us to arrive together. Show a united front. And it’ll make the night easier on both of us.”
That made sense, and since I wasn’t great at being the show pony, having someone I knew there would be good, even if it was Connor.
“Will there be press there?” I asked. It was something I wasn’t sure I could handle, especially being with him again. It’d start a whole other fire.
“Probably,” Connor said honestly. “But I know that these events have a few trusted press outlets only. It’s not a frenzy. Investors have little interest in social media posting too if you’re worried about that.”
I wanted to ask him outright if he was the reason the Buzz post had gone quiet. Comments had been turned off, and secondary posts weren’t popping up in my DMs anymore. I don’t know how, or why, but I believed him when he said he’d take care of it.
A part of me also believed I’d be able to get through the night with him, probably with a few bickering moments between us, but we’d survive.
“Alright,” I said, nodding once. “If that’s what works best, then sure.”
His shoulders deflated slightly.
“Seven,” he said. “Should we coordinate outfits?”
I snorted without thinking. “You want to wear a dress, O’Riley?”
A shy, boyish smile spread across his features, coupled with the blush that crept up his neck. “I’d pull it off.” He puffed his chest a little, and he knew I didn’t miss it. “But I was thinking more along the lines of color coordinating. My tie, your outfit.”
“Okay,” Coach Em said. “I’ll leave you two to discuss the specifics.”
She left us and, suddenly, I was hyperaware of the fact I was fresh from the training pitch, sweat running every which way down my body, with my team still going behind me.
Connor’s eyes traveled over me in a way that made every inch of my skin prickle.
It wasn’t lingering or obvious, just a steady perusal that seemed to catch everything I was self-conscious about.
My hairline, where the heat of exercise had coaxed stray curls free.
The dirt along my cheekbone. The sweat cooling along my neck and disappearing beneath the neckline of my training top.
I felt messy, overheated, completely unpolished—and far too aware of him noticing.
His gaze returned to mine, and his expression was impossible to read.
“You don’t need me to tell you what color to wear Friday night,” he said, clearing his throat, “but I have a tie in dark green or black.”
My mouth felt dry, and I struggled to swallow.
“That’s… helpful,” I managed, wiping my thumb along my jaw, hoping to brush off every trace of post-training disarray. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
He nodded once, that same almost-smile tugging at his mouth. “Good.”
For a moment, we just stood there, the sun warming the grass beneath our feet, the pitch blurring with motion around us, yet the small pocket of space between us felt strangely still.
I cleared my throat. “I, uh… should get back. Warm-down, debrief, all that.”
“Right,” he said, though he didn’t step back. “Same. I’ve got a training review with Coach Knox.”
But he didn’t move either.
His mouth twitched again, that faint almost-smile I hadn’t seen on him much before the last few weeks. “Teddy?”
I forced myself to look up at him. “Yeah?”
“You’ll look great in whatever you choose,” he said quietly. “Tie coordination or not.”
My pulse slammed the inside of my ribs, wild and obvious to me, and I tried not to let it leak onto my features.
I tried summoning something witty, something confident, something that sounded like the captain I was, but all that came out was a breath that felt too thin.
“I’ll see you Friday.” I aimed for steady.
“See you Friday,” he echoed.
He finally stepped back, giving me room to breathe again, and the moment dissolved like mist. As he turned toward the far gate, my gaze clung to his back for a second longer than I meant to.
Evie appeared at my elbow, almost giving me a heart attack.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, eyes huge. “What was that?”
I flinched. “I—Nothing. It wasn’t—”
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m hot from training.”
“You’re flustered.”
I refrained from stomping my foot. “Evie.”
She grinned like she’d just found the last piece of a puzzle. “Are you going on a date?”
“It’s not a date.”
“But it’s something?”
I groaned. She was like a dog with a bone. “You aren’t going to give up until I tell you, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Fine.” I sighed. “I have to go to an investor dinner with Connor, and he’s picking me up.”
She gasped. “He’s picking you up? Like… picking you up?”
“Please don’t say it like that. It’s not a big deal.”
“Why? How else am I supposed to say it? Your arch-nemesis, old academic rival, secret internet husband—”
“Secret what now?”
“—is arriving at your door to escort you somewhere dinner related? Teddy, this is rom-com behavior.”
I let my head fall back between my shoulder blades. “It’s duty. It’s PR. Just part of our job.” And it won’t be like last time.
“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly not believing me. “And how united do you two plan on looking? Because from where I was on the pitch, he was practically undressing you with his—”
“Stop.”
She laughed, bumping her hip against mine. “I’m just saying… You get this look around him.”
“There’s no look.” Even though I’m sure she caught me staring after him. Rookie mistake. Was I that obvious?
“You know…” She waved her hand vaguely in front of my face. “The one where your brain short-circuits and your mouth forgets how words work.”
I scoffed. “That doesn’t happen.”
“It literally happened minutes ago.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but unfortunately, she was right. So I closed it again.
She nudged me with her elbow. “Look, you don’t have to freak out. It’s one night. You dress up, smile, pretend you and Connor aren’t seconds away from combusting—easy.”
“I hate that you make it sound like I’m fragile.”
“You’re not fragile,” she said with a shrug. “You’re just… emotionally constipated.”
I groaned again. “Thank you so much.”
“Anytime,” she chirped.
Next time she cornered me before training, I’d remember to put my headphones in because Evie excited is almost unbearable.
And I still have to tell Micah; she’ll want to dress me.
Probably go shopping too, which I hated.
Jesus, what have I gotten into? Spending the evening with Connor might be the easy part in all this.
***
Waiting for Friday to arrive felt like some kind of torture.
Hours felt like weeks, and my anxiety over this dinner was raging wilder than a hurricane in the mid-west. I’d also done my utmost to avoid Micah today because all week she’d been quizzing me about sizes and heel height.
I’d managed to avoid an actual shopping trip, thank god, but her shifty eyes told me she had something up her sleeve.
By the time I made it back to my apartment, my legs felt like they’d been swapped for someone else’s. Not because training had been particularly brutal today, but because for the last two hours, my brain had done a steady sprint around the same track.
It’s not a date. It’s work. It’s one dinner. I can survive one dinner.
I dropped my bag, leaned my forehead against the closed door for a beat, then pushed off with a breath that didn’t quite reach its full potential of calming me down.
Letting my bag thump to the floor, I headed for the bathroom. The shower helped as hot water drummed over my shoulders and into my scalp, washing away the sweat, mud, and grass. It didn’t do much for my anxiety, though; that still followed me around like a shadow.
By the time I stepped out and wrapped myself in the fluffiest towel I owned, my phone buzzed.
Micah
Open your door.
I frowned, then heard a knock.
“Of course,” I muttered, padding through the apartment. When I opened the door, Micah was there in leggings and a Valkyries quarter zip, hair scooped into a ponytail, and a garment bag hooked over her shoulder.
“I brought options,” she said, pushing her way inside.
Just as my mouth hung open, a sharp retort on the tip of my tongue, two other figures barged inside too.
Lola and Evie didn’t look apologetic at all.
“And reinforcements. These two were available on short notice. Delany had her kids, and the others were busy.”
Lola gave me an apologetic smile as Evie nudged the door shut with her hip. “You’re extremely incapable of asking for help, so this is a team intervention.”