“So, what do you think?” he asks as he sets the paper down.

“Fine.”

He smirks.

Get it together, Chloe. “Do you want to exchange numbers? It looks like we’re going to need to work on this outside of class.”

Two long seconds pass before he scribbles his number on a piece of paper and passes it to me. “Knew you’d change your mind about wanting my number.”

He stands and shoulders his backpack, giving me a wink before he heads out of the class.

“What about picking our product?” I call after him.

“You pick, let me know what we got when you text me.”

I’m still jittery from my encounter with Nathan when I make the walk from campus to practice. It’s going to be a very long semester seeing him in class three times a week. He’s ridiculously hot and charming and everything I don’t need in my life right now. Volleyball has to be my focus. The other night was… well, it was pretty spectacular, if I’m honest, but it can’t happen again. Not until I’ve proven myself. I need to know that I’m capable of doing it all on my own.

But working beside Nathan all semester is going to be a sweet kind of torture.

I get to the courts one minute before practice—perfectly timed to avoid being in the line of Bri’s wrath for longer than necessary. Standing off to the side by myself while my teammates chat, I strip off my shoes and grab my sunglasses before tossing my bag in the sand.

Coach won’t arrive for another fifteen minutes, giving our captain the responsibility of getting us warm and loose.

“Three laps,” Bri calls out and the team shuffles to the perimeter and begins the run around the courts. I step in line, clearing my head of the day and ready to get to work, but Bri’s voice yelling my name is like nails on a chalkboard. “Chloe. You’ve brought opponent colors to practice.” Shit. I glance toward my Golden team bag. Valley and Golden colors are similar, but I get it. It’s disrespectful, and I hadn’t even done it on purpose. “Since you’re such a fan, today you can practice with the bag.”

She can’t mean I have to carry my bag all through practice. But the icy stare she gives me tells me just how serious she is. I walk back toward my bag with anger radiating. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was steam coming out my ears. Anger at my bitchy captain. Anger at myself for being so stupid. And anger at my parents for my being here.

I loop the bag over my shoulder and step into line a full lap behind already.