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she went into detail about that like she tells me about her literature classes and the “utterly breathtaking” books she’s reading for her fiction class.

But at least I know that nobody from the Otters athletic department will come within winking distance of my Olive. I really don’t want to have to get my ass suspended over this, but as I finish my beer I decide I’m going to have to make it crystal clear how far off limits my Liv is.

CHAPTER THREE

Olive

“That’s a wrap, folks.” Justin, the head trainer, tosses the last roll of bandages into the bucket, declaring the training room ready for the coming week. With four of us working, the grunt work of restocking flew by. I stand and do a little dance, happy that Justin is going easy on us.

Even though I’m just an undergrad, I’ve gotten to work in the football team training room all four years. I’m sure Bax had a lot to do with SCU’s decision to allow a work-study student anywhere near their valuable football players.

I’ve gotten some amazing opportunities in this room, and I’ll fold splints and stack tape as long as it takes to stay here.

My other friends studying kinesiology get to do a few weeks here and there with some of the smaller sports. They’ll wrap wrists with tennis or help massage the gymnasts. I know I’m lucky that I not only get to be in the football space, but I actually get to help work with the players hands-on.

It helps that Bax tips me off when he hears someone’s been struggling. He’ll text me if someone’s shoulder aches or some else’s hip stings after tackle drills. Often, my “hunches” about a diagnosis sound downright clairvoyant to the training staff when I reveal a blossoming stress fracture or ligament sprain. I grin, remembering the wide receiver whose shin splints I was able to ease up before he missed a game.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn around. Julia and Gabe gesture toward the door. “It’s early,” she says. “We’re all grabbing a drink. Come with us?”

I should go home and study. I should go home and pretend I’m not waiting for a text from Baxter asking me for chicken nuggets or hot pockets. “Yes, Hampton,” Justin claps his hand on my other shoulder, steering me toward the door. “Staff meeting at the Dark Horse. Pronto!”

I guess if my boss insists, I have no choice.

I have just enough time to grab my bag before my friends are dragging me out of the building and into the autumn night.

I hardly ever go out during the week, and I drink alcohol even less often than that. I’ve got too much riding on my grades, and if I’m honest, I’m worried I’ll turn out like my parents. Bitter, angry, struggling with alcoholism.

Baxter always said at least my drunk parents had an excuse to scream and yell. His dad’s just ornery. Broken inside. I shake away these thoughts and order a spritzer.

The trainers are already settled into a corner booth, passing around shots of whiskey, toasting geeky things like rotator cuffs and “springy groins.”

“Another spritzer?” Julia raises an eyebrow at me. She knows I don’t really drink. She’s in graduate school for sports medicine and rehabilitation, but we’ve been friends for a few years. Not the sort of friends who open up about my parents on a bender dragging me through the front yard by the ponytail. Only Bax knows those parts of my past.

I smile and take a sip as Justin drapes an arm around my shoulder. “To ice and stim and no blown ACLs,” he says, raising his glass.

I stare at his arm, trying to figure out what it means that he put it around me. I stiffen, and he pulls it back into his lap.

“Come on, Olive,” Julia says, holding a glass of brown liquid toward me. “The boss is toasting. We’re about to be neck deep in football stench. You gotta drink at least one shot with us.” She grins.

She’s probably right. I remind myself how lucky I am to have this opportunity and gain this experience. Justin probably is including me because he thinks I’m doing a good job, right? I shrug and accept Julia’s glass, clinking it with Justin’s. I feel the warm drink burn as it slides down my throat. I shake my head and slam the glass back on the table.

Justin stares at me for a long while and I see Julia notice. She slides closer to Gabe—they’ve become sort of a thing this semester—and winks at me. I sip at my spritzer. I know my boss is not too much older than me—he got hired at SCU athletics right after he finished his masters.

But I don’t want to cross any boundaries that might impact my work. He’s a good trainer and I have a lot to learn from him, especially if I want a funded position in graduate school. He reaches to tuck a lock of my blonde hair behind my ear, and I turn to face him, eyes wide. First of all, only Bax has touched me like that—but Bax and I are just friends. Maybe this is just how guys show they care about the women in their lives?

It feels off and I don’t like it.

I cough and excuse myself to go get another non-alcoholic drink. In line at the bar, all I can think about is how angry Baxter would get if he saw. He’s always worried someone is going to take advantage of me, whatever that means.

I let the whiskey settle into my blood while I try to figure out what I should do next. While I imagine what it would be like to want someone other than Baxter for a change. Just when had my hair begun to stand on end

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