Page 9 of I Blame the Club

He shrugs, “So unless my performance is negatively affecting the team, don’t bother with the pep talks.”

I’m speechless when he turns and walks away, unable to remember the last time someone spoke to me like that. Even Steven wouldn’t dare turn his back on me during an argument.

Glaring at the orange and black jersey swaggering back to his position, I refuse to acknowledge the tanned calves flexing with every step.

Nico’s legs are built for running, goddamn it. He should be out chasing the ball, not just standing around a crease.

Let it go.

I suck in a breath, wishing it didn’t still smell like Nico’s cologne. The spicy scent lingers throughout the next play where Nico manages to save every shot that comes his way.

This is going to be the longest training camp of my life.

“He puts in fifty percent less effort than everyone else but still manages to catch every fucking ball.” I spit out the words as I push the barbell above my chest.

Last year’s lacrosse captain grins down at me, “Maybe he’s just doing it to rile you up. Nico loves making waves.”

Cody goes to take the bar as I hit my last rep, but I shake my head and push for five more.

“I don’t get riled up.” I finally let him re-stack the barbell and sigh, “Normally. But it’s bullshit when people don’t use their full potential.”

Cody watches me silently as I sit up on the bench. Using my shirt to wipe the sweat off my face, I give him a look, “Spit it out, Ellsworth. Your thoughts aren’t worth anything unspoken.”

“Not everyone was raised like you and Stella.” Tilting his head to the side, his spiked blonde ends follow suit, “You’re both extremely driven and you love being the best. But not everyone is like that. Some people are happy just hitting their goals and not pushing beyond that.”

“Why would anyone be happy with the bare minimum?” I force my brows out of the scowl they seem determined to be stuck in.

Cody laughs, “Everyone has a different minimum, Mo. Some are higher than others, it’s impossible to compare.”

We switch places and as Cody readies himself under the barbell, I glance around the university gym.

“That’s ridiculous.”

A familiar sight greets me, the lower floor of Taber’s gym exactly how it was back when I was a student. The upper floor is dedicated to cardio machines and fitness courses while the bottom floor is split in two: one side for free-range activities with yoga mats and a climbing cage while the other side makes up the weight room.

Normally, varsity athletes use the high-performance gym, which is where I spent most of my time as a student, but given my friend is no longer a varsity athlete, we are back with the general public in the main one.

Even the desk attendant, the guy with the crazy curly hair and permanent smile looks exactly as I remember.

It’s nostalgic in a claustrophobic way.

“Maybe, but that’s what makes life interesting.” Cody gives me the signal and I help him lift the barbell off the rack, “How’s the training camp going otherwise?”

“Fine. Wes has star potential. One of the rookies needs a confidence boast and the others need less confidence. All in all, fine.”

“Are you glad to be back?” Cody pants as he pushes the bar back up for his final rep. I smirk at his trembling arms, making no move to take the barbell.

He knows the drill by now.

“I am. Boardroom meetings were getting dull, so the change in pace is welcome.”

I watch the bar hover dangerously above Cody’s chest, the veins running down his arms bulging impressively. He’s about two seconds from breaking, so I relent, reaching down to help him re-stack the bar.

“Asshole.”

Watching Cody rub his arms, I smirk, “Just making sure you don’t do the bare minimum.”

Nico

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