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I’m not sure what made her change her mind, but I’m glad she did.

If they hadn’t agreed to the drug testing, I’d have had to explain to Elise’s father why they weren’t going to their away game tomorrow.

That’s not a conversation I have any desire to have.

I’m not her fucking babysitter, despite what she’s previously accused me of.

She’s an adult, and I’m not here to snitch to her father about her actions, but she’s been making that increasingly difficult.

It would’ve made sense to have them come in for testing yesterday, but there was a little part of me that wanted to give every one of them the extra day to get whatever the hell they needed to out of their systems. I’m pretty sure cranberry juice and saunas don’t do a goddamn thing for a drug detox, but it’s worth a shot when your future in sports is on the line.

I sit in my office, my fingers drumming over the oak desk, and a heavy weight sits on my chest. I hate waiting.

I’m far from a patient man, and not knowing what’s going on out there is driving me wild.

Not to mention Elise’s strange demeanour.

She was entirely too excited about tomorrow's game, her voice a high-pitched shrill as she spoke rapidly. Chelsea tried to brush it off as a caffeine high, but I know in my gut there’s something else going on.

That in itself bothers me because I want to know what’s going on with my team at all times, and I feel like Elise is such a wild card that I’ll never be awarded that kind of peace.

There’s a knock on the door, and Paige, someone on the medical staff for the university's sports program, pops her head inside, giving me a broad smile. “Hey,” she says, waving a hand clutching a stack of papers, “they’re all clear. You’re good to go tomorrow.”

A relieved breath exhales from my lungs in a rush, my body sagging into the plastic chair. I give her a tight smile. “Thanks,” I say, nodding at her as I stand, collecting the papers and heading into the locker room to meet with the team.

My trainers squeak along the tile flooring; the sound makes me cringe, but nothing can dim the relief of not having to report anyone for drug use.

I stand in the centre of the locker room, all of the young women seated or standing by their lockers as they wait for the verdict that decides tomorrow’s fate.

“You’re all set for tomorrow. Make sure you’re packed and ready to go by noon,” I say, turning on my heel, but my eyes drag across Elise.

She jumps up on a metal bench seat, waving her hands over her head with a broad smile stretched across her lips.

Her hair is a mess, with a pink feather tucked into her messy bun.

It’s such a contrast to the black-and-white ensembles she tends to wear, and no matter how leisurely her attire tends to be, there’s a certain elegance about her.

But today, she looks like she got dressed in the dark…

at a thrift shop…with an eighties theme.

“Oh my gosh, such good news!” she shouts, doing a little dance, and my heart rate picks up, her teammates' eyes swinging between one another, brows quirked in silent question.

What the fuck is going on?