“Maybe far in the future. But for now, I’ve realized I’d be happier coaching than doing anything else, and you don’t need a degree to do that—just experience, and obviously, these incredible muscles.”

“Modest,” I observe dryly.

“It’s one of my best qualities,” he jokes. “How long were you in college for?”

“Only a year and a half.”

He snaps his fingers. “That explains it all, then.”

“What?”

“Why you’re so terrible at beer pong,” he says, eyes sparkling with pure delight at delivering a playful burn. “Most people get a full four years to practice.”

“Oh, very funny,” I say, pursing my lips and pretending to be annoyed. “As I recall, we won that game. Mostly because of you, but still. We won.”

“True, true. So, why’d you leave school?”

My answer tumbles out before I can second-guess myself. “I was completely, totally, and majorly depressed. And also, I partied too much to ever make it to class.”

He lets out a low whistle. “That got dark fast.”

I wince. “Too dark?”

“Nah, it’s good to be honest,” he says. “Sorry you went through that.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I say.

I shrug and turn my attention to the pot on the stove so I don’t have to see what I assume is a look of pity. But when I look back at Ryan, he doesn’t look like he pities me at all. He nods in a way that makes me think he understands.

“You spend all this time obsessively focused on this one thing, and it becomes your whole identity, and then it’s gone,” he says quietly. “And then it’s like, well, what now?”

“Exactly,” I say, relishing in the fact that he gets it.

“But you’re doing all right now?” he asks.

“Kind of the best I’ve been in a long time, actually,” I say, suddenly realizing just how true that is. “You?”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” he says.

This time, Ryan raises his glass and clinks it against mine.

“Well, cheers to that,” I say.

I want to say something more, to come up with a clever idea to toast to, but I get tongue-tied when he makes eye contact over our drinks. Instead, I finish making the soup and ladle it into two bowls. I’m pleased with how it turned out—savory, hearty, bursting with flavor. It’s a simple meal, but Ryan seems impressed.

“This beats Stonehearth, hands down,” he says appreciatively, scooping up a tortellini with his spoon.

Over dinner, Ryan regales me with stories from his travels. Years of competing across states and countries sparked his love of seeing new places, and now he saves up for as many trips as he can.

“Next up, obviously, I’m saving to do a trip around Asia after Tokyo—if Hallie makes it to Tokyo, of course,” he explains. “You ever been?”