Page 14 of Wrong Score

A group text comes through on my phone.

Tessa: Dress shopping for the gala next week. Who's in?

Several chimes come through as all the girls on the group text start to respond.

Rowan: I'm free after I get back.

Autumn, Juliet, and Shawnie have put a ton of time into making this gala a success. All the news outlets and professional sports teams in Seattle have all RSVP'd. It's gotten so big that Juliet decided to add a red carpet, though this carpet will be turquoise to match the team colors. With all the news coverage, Briggs and Autumn are hoping that the publicity will bring in online donations as well.

Most of the team is already onboard on the jet, and the aircraft buzzes with pre-flight energy. Players shuffle down the aisle, stowing bags and calling out to each other, most of them starting to take their seats. I keep my head down, focusing on unpacking my essentials: laptop, my notebook, and noise-canceling headphones. Just as I'm about to plug in and tune out the world, a familiar voice catches my attention.

"Hey, Summers! I wasn't sure if you were traveling with us this week."

I look up to see Brent Tomlin, the Hawkeyes left defense, grinning down at me. His easy smile is contagious, and I find myself relaxing a bit.

"I wasn't thinking I would be either until the team made it to the playoffs but Phil and Sam want me front and center, so here I am."

Brent chuckles, settling into the seat across the aisle from me. "Yeah, I heard that Sam made it clear that you were going whether Coach Bex likes it or not," Brent says, in almost a whisper, looking to see if Bex is onboard yet. "Coach Bex has been in rare form since he found out you'd be joining us."

I wince internally at the mention of Bex and our infamous meeting in Sam’s office. I didn't peg Cammy as the gossiping type, but who else would have told the entire franchise about it? The story is catching on like wildfire. "Is that so? And here I thought his default setting was 'perpetually annoyed'."

"Oh, it is," Brent assures me with a wink. "But you've somehow managed to unlock a whole new level of grumpiness. It's actually kind of impressive."

Before I can respond, I look up to see the man himself, Coach Bexley Townsend, stepping onto the plane. His presence commands attention, though most of the players are all chit chatting with one another or have their headphones already on and are waiting for take-off. Still, I notice.

For a moment, our eyes meet. The intensity of his gaze catches me off guard, and I feel a strange flutter in my chest. It's not quite fear, not quite anticipation, but something... else. Something I can't quite name.

As quickly as the moment comes, it passes. Bex's eyes narrow slightly, and he turns away, making his way towards the front of the plane. I watch as he stows his backpack in an overhead compartment and settles into a seat as far from me as possible.

"See what I mean?" Brent says, pulling my attention back to him. "I think you might be the first person to get under his skin like this since... well, ever."

I force a laugh, trying to shake off the lingering effects of that brief eye contact. "Lucky me. I always wanted to be someone's personal irritant."

"Like his own brand of poison oak," Brent says.

"Hey…" I protest.

Brent laughs. "Oops, sorry. I didn't mean it that way. And just to be clear, the rest of the guys like you just fine."

"Thanks," I say, pulling my phone out to check to see if my sister texted me back about watering my plants while I'm gone.

As more players file onto the plane, a few familiar faces catch my eye. Reeve Aisa gives me a friendly nod as he passes by, while Lake Powers offers a casual fist bump. It's a stark contrast to the cold shoulder I'm getting from their coach.

"I think it's cool having you along. Adds a little excitement to the usual away game routine," Powers says, sitting one row in front of Brent.

I'm about to thank him when the plane's intercom crackles to life. The captain's voice fills the cabin, running through the standard pre-flight announcements. As he speaks, I notice Bex turn in his seat, his eyes scanning the plane until they land on me. His brow furrows, and for a moment, I think he might actually get up and come over.

But then the moment passes, and he turns back around, his shoulders set in a rigid line.

"Looks like someone's keeping tabs on you," Lake comments, following my gaze.

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. "He's probably just making sure I'm not corrupting his players or something."

Brent laughs. "Trust me, we were plenty corrupt before you came along. But seriously, don't let him get to you. Bex is... well, Bex. He takes some getting used to, but he's a good coach. Just give him time. But enough about him, how was your Valentine's Day? Zoey said you girls got pedicures?”

My eyes flicker over to Bex for no real reason, but he’s not looking in our direction. “It was good. I spent it with Jordan. We watched a movie. Nothing big. How about you?”

Brent met my sister Jordan once when she accompanied me to Zoey’s first hosting of a Hawkeyes girls night party at their house in the same gated community as Isla and Kaenan’s place. Brent had Zoey moved into his place within the first week they returned from San Diego after Christmas.

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