Page 122 of The Defender

“Not yet. Finalists don’t get announced until late January or February.” I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I had hope that I would at least make it to the next round.

“Ah, right.” Jones drummed his fingers against the table. “Well, good luck. Let me know how it goes.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t point out that he could look up the list of finalists himself on ISNA’s website. “I appreciate you writing the recommendation. And I appreciate everything you’ve taught me during this internship. I learned a lot.”

Despite my complicated feelings about his rigid ways, his favoritism toward Henry, and the obvious boys’ club at Blackcastle, I meant what I said. Working at Blackcastle had been a learning experience like no other, and as the minutes ticked down toward the end of the day, the lump in my throat grew bigger.

“You’ve been a great intern,” Jones said. “I’m sad we won’t have you with us moving forward, but I wish you the best in your future endeavors.” He gave me a stiff hug.

We said our goodbyes, and that was it.

I checked the clock. It was officially after work hours. Training ended half an hour ago, and most of the players were probably already gone.

I left the kitchen and walked to the changing room. I didn’t know why, but I had to see it before I left.

As expected, it was empty when I got there. I heard the faint sound of a shower running, but I was the only person in the changing room itself.

I sank onto a bench and soaked it all in. My night at the stadium with Vincent had been magical, but this was the heart of the club. It was where I’d worked with the players, where we laughed and joked around, where we celebrated our victories and mourned our losses.

I was going to miss it.

I blinked back a prickle of tears.Get it together.I’d made the choice to leave. I couldn’t second-guess myself now.

The shower squeaked off. I startled, but before I could leave, Vincent walked out, a towel slung around his hips. He cocked an eyebrow when he saw me.

“Just taking it in while I still can,” I said in response to his unasked question. “Your timing is freakishly perfect. Were you waiting to see if I’d be here before you walked out half naked?”

I wouldn’t be surprised. Sometimes, it felt like he knew me better than I knew myself.

“Do I look like the type of person who would do that?”

“Absolutely.”

If I hadn’t been sitting, his grin would’ve knocked me off my feet. He walked to his locker, a stray droplet of water sliding past the ridges of his abs and into his towel.

Despite my earlier sadness, I had the brief urge to trace the droplet’s journey with my tongue. We’d already defiled the pitch. Might as well add the changing room to that list.

“Are you all packed for tomorrow?” He pulled a shirt over his head.

I sighed. Talk about ruining the view.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to drive me to the airport. I can take a cab.” I was flying to San Diego tomorrow morning, which was another reason it felt like my emotions were being fed through a meat grinder.

The prospect of seeing my mom always exacerbated my worst moments.

“Screw that. I can’t let my girlfriend leave the country without seeing her off.” Vincent finished dressing and sat next to me.

I breathed in his clean shower smell, butterflies taking wing at the wordgirlfriend. I wasn’t used to it yet, but I liked the way it sounded. A lot.

“I’ll be back Tuesday,” I said, amused. “It’s not like I’ll be gone for a year.”

“Four days without you is a long time, buttercup.”

“Getting needy already, DuBois?”

“I always need you.” His eyes gleamed with playfulness, but there was a smooth, dark edge to his voice that drove any lingering nostalgia out of my mind. Heat curled low in my stomach.

“Is there anyone in the showers?” I asked.