I grab my gear from the heap on the floor, and Emma hobbles out of bed. We all trudge down the hallway, bumping into teammates and competitors alike. CFOC’s headquarters are a mere hundred meters from the entrance to the lodge. It’s essentially a rectangular building constructed of galvanized metal siding meant to withstand the harsh winter. From past trips, I know the layout already. The first floor contains equipment rooms, a small kitchen, and lots of locker rooms, while the second floor is all offices. The paper posted on the front door states they have assigned Lancaster Locker Room five and Field three. I lead my teammates into the square room. It’s minimalistic, with locker-lined walls and a couple of scarred wooden benches.

Emma, Anne, and I are the last ones to leave the locker room. Cressida went ahead with an impatient sigh. Punctual as always. We’re about to exit the back doors that lead out onto the fields when I realize what I’m missing.

“Crap, I forgot my pinny. I’ll catch up to you guys.” I hurry back down the hallway, grabbing the white mesh jersey and pulling it on over the skin-tight polyester sports shirt I’m already wearing. I jog back to the exit leading to the fields, bursting through the doors.

Field three is the second one on the right. I can see everyone has already gathered in the center, so I quicken my pace to a slow run as I near the group. Teammates part as I near, flanked by players from other programs assigned to the same first clinic. Some I recognize, some I don’t.

“Sorry, Coach, I—” I freeze like I was just confronted with the bear Emma was talking about earlier. “What are you doing here?” The words are out before I’ve filtered them.

Before I remember my familiarity with Adler Beck is supposed to extend no further than one brief meeting at a children’s camp.

No one says anything as we stare at each other. Somehow, in the last month, I forgot how heartbreakingly perfect his face is. How one stubborn lock of blond hair flops forward. How his presence makes my blood fizz and my heart pound.

Beck’s the one who breaks the deafening silence. “Nice to see you, too, Saylor,” he replies. He’s mastered the art of dry humor, so I’m pretty certain I’m the only one who catches the sarcastic undertone. I’m definitely not the only one who catches his acknowledgment that we seem more familiar than two people who met briefly once would be.

“Thanks for joining us, Scott. I was just letting everyone know Adler will be serving as one of the clinic leaders for the next couple days,” Coach Taylor explains. “We have the good fortune of having his input first.”