I open my texts and tap out a chicken emoji—shorthand for Miguel’s favorite code phrase, “The hen is in the rooster house”—followed by a coffee cup and a water droplet. He’ll be at practice for another half an hour, so I slip my phone into my bag and pull out of the lot, singing at the top of my lungs until the rest of the day disappears.

The Bean Counter is the only coffee shop in Atherton, but just over the city line in Barkley there’s a much less trendy one called Drip that’s not nearly as popular. Which is exactly why it’s Miguel’s and my favorite hangout.

The worn velvet armchairs at the back are both empty, and Rick’s behind the counter, which means no one will be bugging me for sitting here without a new drink in my hands. He knows exactly who I’m waiting for, and he’s probably just as eager to talk to Miguel as I am, though for much flirtier reasons.

There’s blessedly little homework the first day of school, so I finish quickly and switch over to the videos of the routines our assistant coach, Josie, sent out that we’re supposed to know backward and forward. I’m so engrossed in mouthing along with the chants that I don’t notice Miguel has arrived until a sweating cup of iced caramel mocha blocks out the view of my phone screen.

“Thank you, my love,” I say, clutching it in grateful hands. “I owe you one.”

“You actually owe—”

“I was talking to the coffee.” It’s sweet and cold and delicious and exactly what I’ve been craving. “God, I needed that.”

“Guessing your day went about as well as mine did,” he mutters as he settles his long limbs into the chair opposite me with his own iced mocha I know is full of extra sugar.

“The cheerleaders are going bananas over the whole Jack thing. I’m guessing the football players are too, huh? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me they replaced Robbie with a girl.”

He snorts. “You think they told us a second before they had to? They knew how that was gonna go over. She didn’t practice with the team until Saturday, and we all thought it was a joke when she showed up, some sort of grand statement by Sundstrom telling us to shape up because we were playing like girls.”

“Lovely.”