Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Tristan
California feels different the second I land this time.
I’m lighter. Like I shed something over the Rockies and didn’t bother asking for it back. By the time I move into the athletic dorms, I barely recognize myself.
They weren’t exaggerating. This place is a machine built for performance.
My room overlooks a strip of palm trees and a slice of blue sky that doesn’t look real. Everything is clean lines and quiet efficiency. A nutrition plan already printed on my desk. A welcome packet with practice schedules, tutor rotations, recovery protocols.
My name is already on the locker downstairs.
VALE.
It doesn’t feel borrowed anymore.
The first morning, I wake before my alarm.
Jet lag, maybe.
Or hunger.
I throw on a hoodie and meet a few of the guys for an early jog around campus. The air is cool, the kind that tricks you into thinking you’re not working that hard.
Kane’s there. Steady pace. Locked in. Jaw tight like he’s running from something. “Boston boy ready for real weather?” he calls back at me.
“This isn’t weather,” I retort. “It’s a screensaver.”
Jaydon laughs. Eli shakes his head.
Seth doesn’t.
He just runs.
We loop around campus, cutting past quiet buildings and sprinklers misting the grass. Kane bumps my shoulder once, testing. I bump him back.
It’s competitive.
But it’s good.
After the jog, a few of us head toward the field house. I decide to make a small detour to grab an iced coffee at the food truck always parked out by the track.
“Weights at eight,” Jayden declares. “Don’t ghost us, Vale.”
“Ghost you? I’m going to smoke you—just like I just did.”
Kane glances at me then. Brief. Assessing.
I peel off toward the track, headphones in, already mapping out my lift. Upper body. Core. Explosiveness.
And stop.
There’s a rhythm echoing on the bleachers.
Quick.
Light.
Relentless.
Stella.
Halfway up the bleachers. Hair pulled high. Calves flexing with every step. No wasted motion. Up. Down. Up. Down.
I glance toward the weight room.
Then back at her.
Weights can wait.
“Switching it up today?” I start up the steps behind her.
She doesn’t look down.
“Didn’t know this was your time slot,” she says, breath steady.
“It’s not.”
That gets me a glance.
“Skipping something?” she asks.
“Adapting.”
She gives the faintest smirk and keeps climbing.
I match her pace.
It’s not easy.
She doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t make it easier because I’m here. Just lets me earn the space beside her.
We fall into rhythm.
Step. Step. Step.
The air between us tightens.
Not awkward.
Charged.
“You always do stairs?” I ask after a few rounds.
“Conditioning,” she says. “You boys forget cardio exists.”
“We run.”
“You jog.”
I grin.
She’s stronger than she was in high school. Sharper. More certain in her body.
I remember velvet curtains. Late summer heat, that spilled into fall. Her mouth inches from mine.
That same electricity is here.
But now it’s steadier.
“You planning on staring at my calves all morning,” she asks, “or are you actually going to keep up?”
I nearly miss a step.
“I’m keeping up.”
“Debatable.”
We go harder.
No flirting.
Just push and counter-push.
She drives the pace.
I refuse to fall behind.
By the time we finally slow, my lungs are burning and I’m grinning like an idiot.
She rests her hands on her hips, breathing controlled.
“You look less miserable than you did in Boston,” she says.
“You’ve been monitoring my misery?”
“Hard not to. ESPN wouldn’t shut up about you.”
I step a little closer. Not crowding. Just enough to feel the warmth between us.
“I’m not miserable anymore.”
Her eyes lift to mine.
There’s something there.
Curiosity.
Caution.
History.
“Good,” she says quietly.
Then she grabs her water bottle.
“Don’t be late to your lift, Vale.”
She jogs off.
I watch her go.
And that’s when I feel it.
Not from her.
From the weight room entrance.
I turn.
Kane’s standing by the field house doors.
Watching.
Our eyes lock.
There’s no confusion in his expression.
He knows exactly what he saw.
I hold his gaze for a beat.
Then I check the time.
Shit.
When I walk into the weight room, Seth looks up mid-rep.
“No way.”
Jaydon starts laughing immediately. “You stood us up.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did,” Barnes digs. “We saw you through the glass. Bleacher Boy.”
Seth points at me. “Volleyball girl? Track? Who are we losing lifts to?”
“None of your business,” I grin, grabbing a plate.
Kane racks his weight harder than necessary.
Metal clangs.
The room goes a little quieter than it was a second ago.
Eli grins, oblivious. “Our new guy flew across the country and is already skipping lifts for bleachers.”
“I didn’t skip,” I say evenly. “I cross-trained.”
Groans.
Noah shakes his head. “If Coach asks, we’re telling him you chose stairs over chest day.”
“Say a word,” I warn.
Kane finally looks at me directly.
“You making a play on her?” he asks.
It’s subtle.
But it’s not.
Noah blinks between us. “Oh.”
I meet Kane’s eyes.
“Yeah,” I say.
A beat stretches.
Something shifts.
Friendly.
Competitive.
But edged now.
He nods once.
“Hope she’s worth the missed reps,” Seth says.
It’s light enough to pass as a joke.
It’s not a joke.
I step under the bar.
“She is,” I reply before I can stop myself.
Barnes makes a dramatic choking sound.
Eli laughs.
Noah mutters, “Oh, this season’s gonna be fun.”
Kane doesn’t laugh.
He turns back to his set.
Adds more weight than he needs to.
The teasing ramps up after that.
“Bleacher Boy.”
“Cardio King.”
“Vale’s got motivation now.”
But underneath it, I feel the shift.
This isn’t just about minutes anymore.
Or starting spots.
It’s about her.
And we all know it.
Still, when I press the weight up and lock my arms out, I don’t feel distracted.
I feel sharp.
This time I’m going all in.