I don’t know what else to say, so I mumble that he looks great, too. It’s not a lie; he’s in a charcoal-gray sweater that looks like cashmere and slim-fitting black pants. Away from the gym’s harsh fluorescent lighting, dressed in real clothes, he looks more like a GQ model than any real person has a right to. He may be my boss, but I’m not immune to the fact that he’s hot. I like that while he’s tall for a gymnast, he’s much closer to my height than, say, Tyler. It’s nice not to have to crane my neck to have a conversation with him.

“So, uh, how do you know Goose and everyone?” I ask.

“Goose and I grew up together in Florida,” he explains. “He’s been in Boston since college, and half the reason I was psyched to take the coaching job at Summit is because it’d mean seeing him regularly again. And then a lot of these guys are buddies from the gym. Here, let me introduce you.” He gestures for two people on the sprawling sectional to scoot apart and make room for us. “Move.”

A space opens up, and we sit, our thighs bumping as we get comfortable on the couch.

“This is Avery, the other coach,” Ryan tells the group.

He reels off their names, though there are too many for me to keep track of them. His friends nod at me in recognition, like they’ve heard of me already and knew to expect me tonight. People say hello, then return to a heated conversation about the Patriots’ chances of making the Super Bowl. The last thing I want to do is talk about football with another guy.

“So, you must have been a gymnast, too?” Goose asks.

Next to him, his girlfriend, a blond girl with meticulous highlights dressed in a clingy, metallic sweater dress—Melissa, I think?—looks up.

“Yep,” I say. “I retired after an injury about seven years ago, so I’m just into coaching these days.”

“That’s sick,” he says, shaking his head.

“So cool,” his girlfriend adds.

The attention makes me slightly anxious. I know the next logical question is if I was ever in the Olympics, like Ryan, and that’s a rabbit hole I don’t want to have to deal with. So I jump in with a question of my own to divert the conversation.

“What do you guys do?” I ask.

Goose works in sales for a tech start-up, and Melissa teaches fifth grade.

“It looks like they’re finishing up,” Goose says, nodding to the beer pong table. “Want to play next?”

“Yeah,” Melissa says, leaning forward. She clutches my wrist. “Girls against guys?”

“Let’s do us against them,” Ryan says, claiming me on his team.

“Are you any good?” I ask.

He gives me a cocky look. “Two world-class athletes against these two? We got this.”