Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Oh, Evan! I love that idea,” she gushes.
“Yeah, we’ll see if it works out,” I say, and then I laugh. “I had a weird encounter.”
She raises a brow. “Encounter?”
“Yeah,” I say, laughing again. “I pushed the front door open at the same time this girl was pulling it open, and we ran right into each other. I apologized, of course. But then she wouldn’t say anything, just kept repeating what I said. It was weird, and then—” I snort with laughter at this point. “She turns around, goes in, and face-plants on the floor. It was hilarious, but I felt bad because I had to go and I couldn’t go in and help, not that I think she wanted me to.”
Her laughter makes her belly jiggle, almost knocking the bowl off her stomach. “Aw, if you find her and she knows how to speak, that can be y’all’s little meet-cute!”
I furrow my brow. “Meet-cute?”
“Yeah! Like when you meet someone and fall in love.”
“What the hell? That’s crazy!”
“Just saying, how cute.”
“It was weird and silly,” I say, still laughing.
“Obviously you liked it. You can’t stop grinning.”
I press my lips together. “Whatever.”
She laughs. “Hey, it’s better than Aiden’s and mine. I slept with him with an Elsa wig on, and he didn’t even know he grew up with me.”
“Wow, what a start to a beautiful love story.”
“I think so,” she laughs, and I laugh along with her as I check my watch.
“I gotta go.”
“Okay, have fun!”
“Thanks. Love you.”
She tells me she loves me too, and I hang up. Once I gather my things, I head out. I have to make sure no one is doing anything stupid as I go, and thankfully, they’re not. I’m unsure if I just have a great group of guys or if they’re waiting to ruin my life later. The jury is still out on these dudes. One thing is for sure, they respect me, which is all I can ask. As I walk out of the house, I can’t stop thinking about that girl I ran into and our “meet-cute,” as Shelli called it. Stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, but man, that girl was pretty. Really fascinating green eyes. Something about her made me feel as if I’d met her before.
But surely I would remember someone like her.
As I make my way to the gym, I take in the beauty of the Bellevue campus. It reminds me a lot of South Carolina, especially downtown, where the arena was. It makes me miss it a bit, and then I miss Owen. It’s hard being away from him, but as I told my therapist, I am excited for all these new opportunities. I’m actually considering changing my major to something that will help kids mentally in sports. It can be so hard if you don’t have the right tools, and I don’t want anyone else to fail like I have. Maybe I can help.
I’m not sure yet. Still thinking it over.
When I reach the gym, I’m greeted by the coach, Jason Ottera. He’s the new head coach since the previous one retired. He’s a cool dude, but I soon realize I don’t need to dress nice when I come in. Within minutes, I’m helping move mats and I’m fixing equipment. I’m covered with chalk immediately, and my mom is gonna be pissed when I show up needing these pants to be rewashed and ironed. Once the gym is set up, I’m shown my office slash work space. I have a standing desk with a computer and printer combo. It has a table for me to work on the athletes, and I wish I were joking, but there’s a closet full of tape just for wrapping.
Lots of weak ankles is all Coach keeps saying.
I look around a bit before I hear the girls coming in. A little flutter of nervousness fills my stomach at the sound of them. They’re loud and boisterous. Lots of slamming of lockers and then some music starts. When I see Jason coming down the hall toward the gym, I follow him out.
“The girls are great. They’re crazy and loud, but they’re a good group. They’re warming up, but after I introduce you, you’ll have, I think, nine girls to tape.”
Nine? Jesus. “Wow, okay.”
“Yeah, man. Weak fucking ankles,” he says, shaking his head. “But then, no one’s body is meant to do this much banging and slamming, ya know? They beat the shit out of themselves, all for the glory. It’s pretty badass.”
I nod. “For sure.” Though I’d never really thought of it that way. “How did you get into coaching?”
“I come from a family of Olympians. Mom and Dad both won medals in gymnastics. Mom had nothing but boys, and we’re all Olympians. I’m the only one who didn’t medal, though.” He laughs. “I was an alternate, but I figured out I coach better than I compete. I don’t like men’s gymnastics, though. I like women’s for the sheer fact it’s insane what these girls can do. My parents own a gym in Canada, and I coached there for a while before I came to school here. I started where you are, and Coach saw something in me. Here I am.”