Even if I were open to having a boyfriend, I’m pretty certain Adler Beck is the worst possible candidate for the position. Not just because he’s famous. And lives in a country four thousand miles away from the East Coast of the United States. And goes through women at a dizzying pace. And a poster of him hangs in the room across from my own.

Adler Beck is a terrible idea because I suddenly know with absolute certainty that if I let myself, I could care about him.

Like him.

Maybe even love him.

So, I slide my hand out from underneath his and pretend the pines we’re passing are the most interesting ones I’ve ever seen, so I don’t have to register his response.

Chapter Ten

I’m texting with Emma while eating lunch when Ellie and Alexis take seats at the dining room table across from me. I welcome them with a distracted hello as I reply to Emma about our lease terms. There’s a week-long gap between the end of Scholenberg and the start of Lancaster’s preseason. Despite the fact that we rent the house year-round, our landlord is being difficult about me moving back in a week earlier than everyone else. His guise is repairs, but I couldn’t care less about the house’s issues, for once. I’d rather hire a lawyer than have to go home. Emma promises to straighten it out, so I shut off my phone.

“I can’t believe it’s true,” Ellie is saying. “Is it even physically possible?”

“Why not?” Alexis replies. “I doubt he has any shortage of willing participants. There are like forty million women in Germany, right? Plus, the club travels internationally, too.” There’s a weird note in her voice that catches my attention.

“What are you guys talking about?” I ask, leaning back in my seat and taking a sip of my water.

“Olivia says Adler Beck only sleeps with women once.”

Some liquid goes down the wrong pipe, and I let out a small cough to clear my throat. Ah, that’s why Alexis is uncomfortable. I take another sip. “That’s not true.”

“It could be,” Ellie argues. “Olivia heard it from another Kluvberg player, supposedly. And every time I see a photo of him, it’s with a different woman.”

Fuck it. We’re only here for two more weeks. Plus, I’m running out of excuses for where I disappear to on Sundays, and the youth camp is this weekend.

“Well, he’s fucked me more than once.” I say it casually in an attempt to temper some of the shock value. A futile attempt, it turns out. Ellie knocks over the soda she was reaching for, and fizzy liquid immediately spreads across the table. “Ellie!” I quickly lift my sandwich to rescue it from the small flood and toss my solitary napkin on the puddle.