Page 29 of Love on the Sidelines

Brooke: Aren’t those the best? There’s so much room. Did you meet a handsome stranger who whisked you off to an island?

Meg: Girl! You’ve got to give us some more details than that. Don’t just leave us hanging!

Me: Well, I caused a guy to get stitches two weeks ago playing pickleball.

Brooke: You play pickleball?

Me: That was the first time. So anyway, it turns out I’m coaching his niece in lacrosse. We both missed the flight, and he helped us get on another one. But there’s nothing going on.

Brooke: Are you sure this isn’t a first date kind of thing?

Maggie: Nothing going on? ;)

Me: You know my track record. The guy was just being nice, so I would get to the tournament on time.

Meg: I’m excited to hear more. Don’t forget to keep all the little details coming.

Chloe: Forget the track record. Embrace this!

15

AVA

We land about thirty minutes after the team was supposed to touch down, and Charlie rents a car that is sleek and oh-so-comfortable. I can’t complain, because I’ve just flown over three hours and have no new aches or a crick in my neck from trying to get a nap.

My conversation with Charlie was eye opening, and I’m still trying to compare his comments about being middle to lower class growing up and still being a decent human being now that he has money.

“Do you have the address to where we’re staying?” Charlie asks me, pulling up the maps app. I find it somewhere in my emails and read it off to him.

It’s only a fifteen-minute drive, and much of the drive was in an easy silence.

“So, what does this elite training camp consist of?” Charlie asks, looking really sexy as he guides the car along the route with his left wrist. His wrist is on top of the wheel and his body is turned slightly toward me, which is a lot more inviting than my ex-boyfriend’s machismo.

“Well, there will be grass, a few nets. I’m assuming several dozen buckets of balls,” I say, trying to keep a straight face.

“Okay, touché. What do you think the girls will have to do there?”

I try to remember the one camp I went to. It wasn’t out of state and definitely wasn’t anything fancy, but I’d loved every minute of it.

“A lot of drills, running, and grading their playing and coachability.”

“What do we do with the information?” Charlie asks.

“It’s used as feedback to get better. But the best part is that there will be some college coaches there. Our girls will probably be the youngest, but it’s always a good thing to start the recruiting process early.”

We make it to the house we’d rented for the week-long adventure. “Wow, I can’t believe Marsha found a place like this in our budget. You didn’t pay for it, did you?”

He raises his hands like I’ve got a shotgun pressed to his middle and says, “I didn’t pay for this one.”

I don’t know if I believe him, but can I really get mad that I won’t be shuffling past a couple of girls for a week straight, stepping over the clothes and shoes they just leave all around in a hotel room? Definitely not.

We head up and walk inside to a dance party. All the girls are in the large front room dancing to songs that are only slightly familiar.

“You made it,” Marsha says, from the kitchen, slicing an apple.

“Yes, we did,” I say, setting down my bags. My shoulder hurts from the duffle bag.

“Okay, well, let me show you to your rooms. The girls have already claimed the loft and two rooms here below.” Marsha walks around the counter and waves for us to follow.

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