Chapter 1 — Lena #2
Even more unfortunately, the someone who could make the players actually show up was standing beside her, looking annoyingly good with a cut lip and a terrible smile.
Coach Harlan looked between them.
No, no, no.
“Brooks,” Coach said, “you and Hayes will handle it together.”
Carter opened his mouth.
Lena opened hers.
Coach lifted one finger. “Don’t.”
Lena shut her mouth.
Carter did not. “Coach, I feel like the word together is doing a lot of damage here.”
“Good,” Coach said. “Maybe it’ll build character.”
“I have character.”
“You have charm. They’re different.”
Mason whispered, “Damn.”
Coach pointed at him without looking. “Cross, I’ll get to you.”
Mason immediately became fascinated by a water bottle.
Denise looked relieved, which Lena found rude. “Great. I’ll need an updated floor plan, player rotation, and donor activity schedule by tonight.”
Tonight.
Fantastic.
Lena nodded. “You’ll have it.”
Carter said, “We’ll have it.”
Carter was looking at Denise, not at her, but his shoulder was close to hers. Too close. Warm through the thin sleeve of her top.
Like he hadn’t spent the semester making her laugh at the worst possible moments and then walking away before anything could get real.
Like this was not the exact situation she had been trying to avoid.
Coach Harlan nodded once. “Good. And Hayes?”
Carter looked at him.
But Lena caught it.
The smile stayed. The eyes changed.
“Always do, Coach,” Carter said lightly.
Coach gave him a look that said no one in the room believed that.
Then he walked away with Denise.
The ballroom resumed its chaos, but Lena stayed still.
He was watching Coach walk away, jaw tight enough to make the bruise on his cheek stand out.
There he was.
The part of Carter Hayes he usually hid under jokes.
And because Lena had apparently lost her mind today, she wanted to touch him.
In the softer way.
The worse way.
“Hey,” she said.
He looked at her, smile already returning. “Yes, boss?”
She should have let him keep it.
Instead, she said, “You don’t have to prove anything to him in the next twenty-four hours.”
His smile held.
But it thinned.
“Who said I was?”
“You did.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
For a second, he looked at her like she had stepped too close.
Emotionally, this time.
Then his gaze dropped to her mouth again, because apparently Carter Hayes dealt with discomfort by setting things on fire.
“Careful, Brooks,” he said quietly.
Careful wanting him.
Careful pretending this was just banter when the room kept shrinking every time he looked at her.
Lena swallowed. “We have work to do.”
“Yeah,” he said. “We do.”
Neither of them moved.
Across the room, Mason yelled, “I found the temporary tattoos! Why do we have one that says GO HARD OR GO HOME?”
Lena closed her eyes.
Carter called back, “That one’s mine.”
“Absolutely not,” Lena said, moving at once.
The next twenty minutes became a disaster with legs.
Mason tried to assign himself to “raffle security,” which was not a real job.
Jonah insisted that the prize table needed a system in case “people got emotional over the Starbucks basket.”
Tank refused to work the temporary tattoo station unless someone confirmed that children could not sue.
Carter somehow got four players signed up in under five minutes by promising nothing except “Coach will know who helped” and “Lena will stop looking like she might murder us with a laminator.”
“I heard that,” Lena said.
“You were meant to.”
He stood near the sign-up table, marker between his teeth as he taped a schedule to the wall. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up to his forearms now, revealing strong wrists and bruised knuckles.
She turned around before her face betrayed her.
“Lena,” called one of the freshmen near the banner, “where should the balloon arch go?”
“Front entrance,” she said. “Big enough to cover the typo.”
Carter appeared beside her. “The Helmuts deserve better than censorship.”
“You are dangerously close to being assigned glitter duty.”
His eyes brightened. “Will you supervise?”
“Do you require supervision?”
“With you? Constantly.”
The words slid over her skin like warm fingers.
Lena looked at him.
Then his voice dropped, just for her.
“You keep looking at me like that, and this fundraiser is going to become a problem.”
“Like you’re wondering what I’d do if there weren’t thirty people in this room.”
She stepped closer before she realized she had moved.
His eyes flared.
“Carter,” she whispered.
“I’m wondering if you can hang a balloon arch without making it weird.”
His laugh broke out, low and surprised.
The sound rolled through her.
“Cruel,” he said.
“Efficient.”
“You’re going to pay for that.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Is that a threat?”
His smile returned, but softer. Slower.
“No, Brooks.” He leaned in close enough that his breath warmed her ear. “That’s a promise.”
Lena stood near the stage and checked off the final item on her list for the hour.
Carter came up beside her carrying two cups of coffee.
Then him.
“No.”
“You haven’t heard my offer.”
Again.
“How do you know my order?” she asked.
Carter’s expression shifted into something too casual. “I pay attention.”
Lena took the cup carefully, like it might explode.
Their fingers brushed.
This time, neither of them pretended not to notice.
“Thank you,” she said.
His gaze stayed on her face. “You’re welcome.”
The ballroom was still loud around them.
Mason was arguing with Jonah over whether a signed hockey stick should be placed vertically or “heroically diagonal.” Tank was practicing friendly greetings for children and somehow making every version sound like a hostage negotiation.
But for one small moment, Lena and Carter stood in the middle of the chaos with coffee between them and something dangerous building beneath the silence.
Self-preservation.
Carter took a sip from his own cup. “So what’s next, risk manager?”
“Risk manager?”
“You manage risk.”
“And you create it?”
His smile tilted. “Exactly.”
She glanced at him over the lid of her coffee. “At least you’re self-aware.”
“I’m aware of many things.”
Enough for her body to notice everything.
“Such as the fact that you keep pretending you don’t like me,” he said.
Her breath caught.
“I don’t like you.”
“Liar.”
“You say that a lot.”
“You give me reasons.”
“No.” His voice lowered. “You like me. You just don’t trust me.”
The words slipped clean through her defenses.
Lena looked away toward the tables, but Carter didn’t let the moment go.
“I get it,” he said.
Less cocky.
More dangerous because of it.
“I wouldn’t trust me either,” he said.
The admission stole every sharp reply from her mouth.
Before she could answer, Denise Vargas walked back in and clapped her hands once.
“Everyone, listen up. Small change.”
Lena stiffened.
Carter muttered, “Those words are never small.”
Denise smiled tightly. “The hospital board has requested opening remarks from both the student coordinator and a student-athlete representative.”
Lena nodded. “That’s fine. I can write something.”
Denise looked at Carter. “Good. You and Carter will deliver them together.”
The sudden stillness.
The silence where a joke should have been.
“Me?” he asked.
Coach Harlan came in behind Denise. “You.”
Carter laughed once. Too light. Too false. “Coach, I’m not really the speech guy.”
“You’re the liaison.”
“I’m more of a behind-the-scenes liaison.”
Mason shouted, “Since when?”
That was how Lena knew something was wrong.
Coach crossed his arms. “You wanted people to take you seriously, Hayes. This is what that looks like.”
Carter’s smile stayed in place, but Lena saw the hit land.
Saw the tiny tightening near his eyes.
Saw him cover it.
“Sure,” he said. “No problem.”
Lena knew immediately it was a problem.
Denise tapped her tablet. “Great. I need a draft tonight.”
“A draft,” Carter repeated.
“Of the remarks.”
Lena stepped in before anyone could laugh. “We’ll write it.”
She didn’t look away.
“We’ll have it to you tonight,” she said.
Denise nodded and moved on.
Coach followed, but not before giving Carter one last look.
When they were gone, Carter stared down at his coffee.
Lena waited for the joke.
It didn’t come.
“Carter,” she said softly.
He looked at her and forced the smile back up. “What? You worried I don’t know words?”
“I’m worried you think you have to make everything look easy.”
Too much.
He looked away. “You don’t know me that well.”
“No,” she said. “But I’m starting to.”
Then at her.
“We’ll write the speech,” she said. “We’ll fix the kids’ booth. We’ll survive the Helmuts. And tomorrow night, you’ll stand up there and say something honest.”
His mouth curved faintly. “Bossy.”
“Correct.”
“What if I’m bad at honest?”
So soft she almost missed it.
Lena didn’t answer right away.
Then she said, “Then start with something true.”
His eyes searched hers.
“What’s true?” he asked.
The event.
Instead, because apparently Lena Brooks had misplaced her self-preservation in a supply closet, she said, “You’re trying harder than you want people to know.”
Only this time, the look was not playful.
It was almost helpless.
“Lena,” he said, rougher than before.
She should have remembered every reason Carter Hayes was dangerous.
Too close.
Almost.
Then Mason shouted, “WHO PUT GLITTER IN MY WATER?”
Carter closed his eyes.
For one breath, neither of them moved.
Then Carter laughed under his breath, low and unsteady.
“Saved by glitter,” he said.
Lena took a careful step back.
“Go handle your team.”
Then he nodded once.
“Yes, boss.”
“And Carter?”
He paused.
She lifted her coffee cup. “Thank you for this.”
The real one.
The dangerous one.
“Anytime, Brooks.”
Then he walked backward toward the team, eyes still on her for two steps too long.
Lena watched him go.
Her clipboard was still in her hand.
Her schedule was still a disaster.
The fundraiser was still tomorrow.
But her biggest problem was no longer the misspelled banner, the missing volunteers, or the fact that Mason Cross had somehow gotten glitter in bottled water.
Her biggest problem was Carter Hayes.
Because Carter Hayes was supposed to be the risk.
And Lena was starting to think she wanted to lose the bet.