Page 82 of One Day

“Is that really how you think I sound?” I narrow my gaze, lifting my hand to grab his. “I do not sound like that, and this is not a hockey game,” I tell him, leaning forward to greet the two other hockey players. “You guys are so sweet for coming to this. Thank you.”

“Happy to be here, Sunny,” Campbell says with a smile.

“I’m assuming Coach said you had to be here?” I ask, a small smile playing at the corner of my lips.

As much as I love Dylan and his support—which I know is genuine—I also know these boys like the back of my hand. They work crazy schedules, and what little free time they have, definitely wouldn’t be spent at a class presentation unless it was mandatory. That, and the rest of his teammates are spread throughout the lecture hall.

“Fitz’s presence was by demand for bailing on his partner as punishment,” Dylan says. “Soupy and I, and the rest of the guys are here for you.”

“Well, the reason he bailed was partly my fault.” I lean forward, the chain around my neck swinging with the motion. “Sorry, Fitz.”

“It wasn’t because of you, Sunny. I would have bailed on him either way, but you gave me an easy way out,” he says, sitting up when their coach looks our way.

Amusement fills my chest at the sight of all three of them sitting up pin-straight. The muscles in their back tense under his watchful gaze. “He scares you guys that bad, huh?”

“Don’t laugh. You haven’t seen that guy mad,” Dylan says, smoothing his hands down his thighs. He doesn’t even bother to look at me, too afraid to shift his gaze in my direction when his coach is still looking at the four of us. “He’s terrifying.”

I take a look at the tallest man in the panel of judges, his reddish-brown hair salted with grey and despite what they say, he looks like a gentle giant. The idea that he could be scary, feels thin. Maybe even nonexistent. “Him? Are you sure? He looks like a teddy bear.”

All three sets of eyes turn in my direction. “Teddy bear?” Fitz asks. “Try a grizzly bear.”

My lips part to argue with him when Professor Andrews calls our attention to the front of the room, filtering silence into the room. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” she says, pressing her hands together in front of her. “As you all know, you’ll have ten minutes to pitch your app to myself, as well as the panel of judges we have gathered here. I know this part is scary for a lot of you, the coding is the easy part, but think of this as a learning opportunity. Give it your all, and good luck.”

She calls the first one of my classmates, who moves to the front of the room, gathering the attention of the whole room, and nerves run down my spine. My knee starts to bounce, and Dylan’s hand reaches over to hold it in place. My eyes shift to him, watching as he takes a slow breath in and blows it out for me to mimic.

“Thank you,” I whisper, bringing my bag onto my lap to pull the project folders for the panel out.

I close my eyes and listen to each presentation until my name is called. The three hockey players who turned my project into something of its own, give me a reassuring look when I push myself up and head down to the front of the room.

“Hi, Sonya Cartelli,” I introduce myself to the panel while extending a folder out to each of them. “I’m very excited to be pitching this app to all of you. I took the liberty of creating a condensed version of my presentation down in these folders for you to refer back to.”

With a smile, I head to the laptop connected to the projector and open my presentation from the class-shared folder on the university server.

“When we were presented with the project brief, it was intended to be an app targeted for alumni and students to get all they needed to know about university sports teams and their players. We were asked to start with our D1 men’s hockey team, and assigned two players from the team to interview. While my intention was to follow the brief exactly, I found an area through my interviews that was lacking, and that was support for the players and their coaching staff,” I explain, my eyes flickering to the panel and settling on Professor Andrews.

Her face is expressionless as she holds my gaze and waits for me to continue. I’m not sure what I was expecting: some kind of disapproval at my blatant disobedience or for her to be impressed by my actions and following what I believe in.

Instead, all I get is a blank face. She’s giving me nothing, and it should make me nervous, but as I wait for the muscles in my stomach to tighten, I realize this is exactly the kind of thing I will need to do to make a name for myself. I can’t just stand by and hope for the best. If I want more for myself, I need to make waves, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

“All of these players have packed schedules between their team obligations as well as their academic expectations. They are working themselves into the ground to ensure they are performing at the highest level. Right now, communication between their coaching and support staff is done all through email. Which can get complicated and messy when it’s mixed with their academic responsibilities. What I am proposing is an app tailored to make these athletes' schedules more organized,” I explain, turning to the next page in my slide showcasing the app.

I walk them through the features that will allow for easy communication with their support system, including the calendar and message board for teammates, as well as the benefits the app will give the staff, like the recipe book for meal plans and easy-to-explore dietary needs for each of their players.

When I finish, I can feel my skin flush as the excitement of doing something completely different wears off. “Thank you for listening. Are there any questions?” I ask, clicking to the last slide of the presentation. I finally let my eyes wander the crowd and stop when I land on Coach Shay, whose hand is in the air. “Yes, Coach Shay?”

“What made you pivot from the project brief as far as you did?”

“The two players assigned to me, Dylan and Campbell, are really good friends of mine. As well as Fitz. I see how spread thin they are with their schedules, and don’t get me wrong, they work hard to keep on top of them, but it’s a little chaotic at times. I figured having something that would make communication for them with you and your support staff, as well as you being able to keep things more organized in one spot, would ease some of that stress. It’s tiny, but even the smallest of things can make for a smoother ride.”

He nods his head, and my gaze slides to Professor Andrews, who gives me a firm nod. “Thank you, Sonya. Why don’t you return to your seat?”

Pride blooms in my chest when she squeezes my arm, a silent show of excitement before I head up the stairs and try to slow my racing heart. I’m proud of myself and what I accomplished, and that slides over me like a warm blanket.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

WALKER

“Are these cute? Or too much?” I ask, holding up a bouquet of sunflowers, yellow roses, and little white daisies. I pick at the brown paper wrap and bring them to my nose, inhaling the fresh floral scent before lifting my gaze to Flynn, who stands across from me with a big smile.

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