I’m revealing far too much about the knowledge I’ve retained concerning Adler Beck, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he appears entertained by it. “Don’t go crazy with the compliments.”

“That wasn’t one.”

“Yes, it was.” Beck sounds very, very confident about that, and I hate he has a right to be. I’m notoriously forgetful when it comes to things like dates, names, and favorites. But I remembered Beck is allergic to tomatoes. He leans past me to grab a fork, and it’s closer than we’ve been in weeks. “Don’t forget I know you, too.”

The words are almost a taunt, and they propel me into motion. I stride past Beck toward the rows of tables, dropping my plate down next to my water bottle and sliding into my seat across from Emma. She raises both eyebrows in a silent question, but I don’t answer, jumping into the conversation about our scrimmage tomorrow. We’re scheduled to play Montclave College, which is one of the better teams here. Assuming I can stay focused, we shouldn’t have any problem beating them.

After dinner, there’s a speech by one of the organizers filled with words like “dedication,” “perseverance,” and “discipline.” Words I’ve heard in pep talks and read on posters in locker rooms more times than I could count.

They’ve never been a reminder I needed.

And the only reason I need them now is nodding along to something William York—Britain’s best hope of a world championship—is saying. I do a quick scan of the rest of the table of clinic leaders. They’re all athletes I recognize. CFOC really pulled out all the stops this year.

The speech ends with a plea to act professionally amongst our peers, and then we all file out of the banquet hall.

“On that note, Samantha Cole invited us to the pool,” I announce to my teammates.

“Better plan than the campfire last year,” Cressida scoffs as we enter the elevator. There might have been a minor incident with some smuggled liquor. “I’m in.”

“Meet back here in a few?” Emma suggests as we reach the hallway containing our rooms. Everyone agrees, and I follow her into ours, feeling a burst of foreboding as the door swings shut and latches.

She whirls around as soon as it does. “Okay, spill.”

“I already did. I slept with him while I was in Germany.”

“Yeah, well aware of how you dropped that bomb during laps, S. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me before.” There’s some hurt mixing with incredulity. Out of all my friends, Emma’s the one I’ve always shared sexual exploits with, both incredible and underwhelming.