Good fortune? More like my worst nightmare. I’m already having a hard enough time pretending he doesn’t exist. Forced proximity is not going to help.

“Let’s get warmed up, ladies. Drop off your belongings and then ten laps,” Coach Taylor instructs. Water bottles are tossed. Sweatshirts flung. Laces tightened. Coach heads to the edge of the field to set up a line of cones for what I’m guessing will be sprints.

Everyone moves but Beck and me. I adjust the mesh material I hurriedly yanked over my head, so it hangs correctly and take a step forward. “You knew I would be here,” I accuse. Not my best opener, but what else do you say to the former flame/world famous athlete/sex symbol you weren’t sure you’d ever see again? I’m at a loss.

Beck doesn’t deny it. “Ja.”

“You didn’t have anything better to do than attend a women’s soccer camp in Canada?”

Beck scoffs. “We were already here for a practice match. Kluvberg thought it would be good PR.”

“And you didn’t think the fact that I would be here might complicate things just a tad?”

“I didn’t see why it would. We’re good, right?”

Damn him. What the hell am I supposed to say now? No, we’re not good. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m going to be distracted imagining what’s under your tracksuit for the next two days. Hard pass.

“Yeah, we’re good. It’s still weird you’re here though.”

“Take it up with the organizers,” Beck says breezily. “They’re the ones who reached out to Kluvberg. What was I supposed to say?”

I scoff. “They didn’t make you come.”

“No?” An arrogant brow arches.

“Being here is beneath you, and you know it. It’s also a bad idea.”

“It is?”

“You know it is, Beck. We’ve had a…” I stop speaking as a couple players walk by closely in an obvious attempt to eavesdrop on our conversation. A sharp look sends them scattering like startled chickens. “A different type of relationship,” I continue in a quieter voice. “I can’t go back to seeing you as just a famous football player now.”

“Why not? I made suggestions when we played together in the park.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“We were playing around then, just the two of us. My whole fucking team is here. My coach. Not to mention players from every other reputable program in North America. This is my future we’re talking about. My career. My reputation.”

“You think I’m trying to jeopardize any of that?” Yup, there’s some of the anger I’ve been waiting for.

“Not purposefully,” I acquiesce. “But…” Fuck it. “Having you here is a distraction for me, okay?”