His loss, right? I leave him and head over to the table where Rebecca is handing out welcome packets to the Bombshells. The gym bag with our team logo on it—a cartoon bomb with the wick sizzling and ready to blow—is delightful.

Inside, I find a Bombshells T-shirt. On the back it reads: Underestimate us. That will be fun. There’s also a brand-new Katt phone with a sleek yellow case, which I know I’m going to be playing with all evening.

Beneath that, I find an invitation on thick, creamy paper for a black-tie benefit dinner to be held in November.

And, finally, a VIP card for the Colorbox Nail Salon, entitling the bearer to a free mani-pedi every week through April.

“Oh, sure,” Charli grumbles. “The little ladies need pretty fingers and toes to play hockey.”

“That’s not it at all,” Rebecca says from right behind her.

Charli, at least, has the good sense to flinch.

“I own that salon,” Rebecca says. “And I always tell people that I think better with my feet in a tub of warm water. So I just thought some of you might enjoy the same.”

“Thank you,” I say quickly. “The perks are really fun. I can tell you’re thinking hard about making this job sustainable.”

“We’re trying,” Rebecca says. “Brooklyn is an expensive place to live. And we’re not allowed to factor that into our salaries. So we’ve made sure that players have access to housing that’s close by. And some meals on the road. We’ll do what we can.”

“Thank you,” Charli says, her chin down, her expression chagrined. “I do appreciate it.”

She is saved from further explanation by a whistle from Fiona at the front of the room. “Practice starts in twenty minutes, girls. Let’s suit up.”

On my way out the door, I glance once more at the signup sheets. Bryce put his name down for soccer coaching, so we definitely won’t be working together. But right under my name on the swimming sheet, the name Anton Bayer has been freshly scrawled.

He seems like a fun guy. The kids will enjoy his company.

That’s got to be why I feel a strange little prickle of anticipation, right? It’s because of his attitude. And not because I’m suddenly picturing him shirtless.

Nope. It’s not because of that. Not at all.

TWENTY-ONE

Polish and Brighten

ANTON

I am the last man on Earth who should coach swimming lessons. I don’t really like the water. But teenagers should know how to swim, so they’ll like it better than I do.

This is a selfless act on my part. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

“Are we going to lift?” Drake asks me on our way out of the meeting. “It’s chest day.”

“Of course we’re going to lift.” This is the season where I will take nothing for granted. “Let’s go.”

The weight room is a little crowded today, because everybody has the same idea. But that’s okay. Drake and I make good use of the bench, and I like the camaraderie of the weight room during the season.