Page 20 of Wish You Were Mine (Kings of Eden Falls #3)

OWEN

By the time I stepped out of the university’s weight room, my shirt clung to my back and my arms felt like overcooked spaghetti. Lifting with another professor buddy a few times a week kept me sane—bench, deadlifts, rows. But now that the hard work was over with, I needed food.

And caffeine.

Preferably both at once.

And since The Brew was just a block away, I made a quick detour, figuring I’d grab something before heading home to shower.

The coffee shop was bustling like it always was on Saturdays. Students with laptops. Locals reading the paper. Acoustic indie covers playing just loud enough to fill the space but not drown out conversations.

I stepped up to the counter and ordered a hot mocha and a bacon-and-egg-white bagel sandwich, then made my way to a corner table while the barista filled my order.

My phone buzzed as I sat.

Theo: Still good for tonight?

I stared at the message a beat too long, my thumb hovering over the screen.

This could be my out.

I could say I wasn’t feeling great. Blame a pile of ungraded labs.

Bow out before I had to spend my Saturday night sitting next to Lucy’s parents…watching her compete in a leotard that would absolutely remind me of how it felt to have her in my arms in a bathing suit.

Such a tempting idea.

Really tempting.

But…I bit my lip as I reconsidered. Thursday’s lab had gone fine. No slip-ups or anything unprofessional.

Even the short moment before class—when it was just the two of us—had been good. Normal. Above board. Like any conversation I might’ve had with a regular student.

So really, I should be fine watching her and her team do their routines tonight. I would simply be a professor supporting my students—showing school spirit while also hanging out with a friend.

So I texted back:

Me: Planning on it.

“Owen,” the barista called my name. I looked up and watched her set my drink and breakfast sandwich on the counter.

I walked up to the counter and grabbed my order, thanking her before heading back to my corner table. As I took the first sip of my drink, I picked up my phone and tapped open my browser .

I hadn’t meant to look her up. I really hadn’t. But ever since I’d overheard her tell Brody that she’d done online high school because of her rigorous gymnastics training schedule, I’d been curious to learn more.

I typed Eden Falls University Women’s Gymnastics and clicked onto the team page. A photo of Lucy in mid-vault popped up first—ponytail flying, expression fierce.

I clicked the roster tab and saw various gymnast headshots populate my phone’s screen. Lucy’s headshot was first since they were listed in alphabetical order by last name. Her hair was down and curled and she wore what looked like a black warmup top. Beneath her photo were a few stats.

Lucy Archibald

Height: 5’1

Class: Senior

Position: All-Around

High School: Elevate Online Academy

Hometown: Eden Falls, Connecticut

Major: Marketing

I clicked on her photo to view her full bio and skimmed over some of her stats. I didn’t know a ton about gymnastics or what the various numbers meant, but it mentioned a few of her career highs—vault 9.8875, uneven bars 9.9375, beam 9.9675, and floor 9.9500.

They all seemed like pretty impressive numbers to me since I was pretty sure the highest score you could get in gymnastics was a 10.

When I overheard Lucy telling Brody that she’d taken third place at her meet last weekend, she sounded disappointed. Which I’d thought was a bit strange since third place was pretty great in my book .

But maybe, with career high scores like that, she was used to winning? Or at least getting second place.

I continued scrolling down the page, reading that before coming to Eden Falls University, she’d been a level 10 gymnast from Prestige Gymnastics in New Haven under coaches Jamie and Arnold Grimwald.

Lucy was on the national team for three years with multiple regional and national medals.

Okay, so…wow.

She wasn’t just good. She was exceptional.

I continued down to the “Fun Facts” section.

Favorite Skill : Front layout on beam

Favorite Food : My mom’s lasagna soup

Favorite Musical Artist : Incognito

Favorite Movie/TV Show : The Notebook, Modern Family

Favorite Quote : “Hard now, easy later.”

Hobbies : Makeup, movies, dancing

Favorite College Memory : “The night of the rock!”

Advice to Future Gymnasts : Do it for yourself, never give up, and have fun while doing it.

I smiled at that last line, then clicked open one of the attached articles—an interview from her junior year. She talked about discipline, resilience, and how she balanced school, training, friendships, and dating.

She sounded mature. Grounded.

Not exactly the type of girl who’d kiss a random stranger in a hot tub .

And maybe that was what was messing with me. That girl—the flirty, confident one—she was real. But so was this version.

A sudden gust of cold air swept in as the front door opened. I looked up, still chewing the corner of my bagel sandwich, and nearly choked.

Because the girl I’d just been researching…had just walked into The Brew.

Along with her friend Nora and another girl I didn’t recognize.

Crap!

I quickly minimized the browser tab and set my phone face down on the table.

Caught like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.

Had she seen my phone screen as she passed the windows?

No, probably not. She was laughing with her friends, like she had no idea I was even here.

Not that it was illegal to look up my students’ public bios. But still. It felt…weird. Invasive.

She turned her head in my direction as she tucked some loose hair behind her ear.

A second later, our eyes met.

Her eyes widened briefly, like she hadn’t expected to see me here.

And not knowing what else to do, I gave her a small nod—cool, casual. Like I hadn’t just been low-key reading her gymnastics résumé like it was a love letter.

She nodded back—polite, unreadable—and turned back to the counter with her friends.

No smile. No double take. Just another day in Eden Falls.

Which was exactly how it should be.

She was my student.

Not my friend.

Not the girl I kissed in a hot tub .

Not the one I’d been thinking about way too much for someone who should’ve moved on by now.

Just a student.

I stared down at The Brews logo that was stamped on the cardboard sleeve of my coffee cup and tried to shake my paranoia away.

I needed to get Lucy out of my head. Needed to find someone else to occupy my mind.

So, doing that the best way I knew how, I pulled up the Meet Your Match app on my phone and started swiping through the various women who popped up.

Hopefully, a few dates with other interesting women would help me stop thinking so much about the one who was completely off-limits.

The energy inside the EFU arena hit me the moment I walked through the doors—upbeat pop music pulsing through the speakers, the buzz of conversation echoing off the high ceiling, a low hum of anticipation beneath it all.

There were still fifteen minutes until the meet officially started, but the place was already filling up. Students, families, faculty. Even a few little kids in sparkly leotards running around near the bottom rows.

I glanced toward the competition floor, scanning past the balance beam and uneven bars until my eyes snagged on the red leotard near the vault runway.

Lucy.

She was talking with her coach, head tilted slightly, hands on her hips, her expression focused like she was getting some sort of feedback.

Her bleached-blonde hair was parted cleanly down the middle, two tight French braids slicked back and twisted into a bun at the crown of her head. A light dusting of chalk clung to her thighs, probably from brushing against the bars or beam mid-warmup—evidence that she’d already been hard at work.

And despite all the reasons I’d been dreading tonight—sitting near her parents, praying they didn’t pick up on the fact that their daughter’s professor had a not-so-mini crush—I found myself suddenly, stupidly eager to see the expertise I’d read about in her bio in action.

I just had to make sure that if I looked impressed, it came across as academic. Respect for her athleticism. Her power. Her technique.

Not because I was fighting off memories of what it felt like to hold her in a hot tub.

Her gaze drifted toward the stands and for a split second, I could’ve sworn we locked eyes.

My heart thudded. Hard.

But then, she turned back to her coach, rubbing her shoulder absently while listening to whatever correction she was given, like nothing had just happened.

Okay. Maybe she hadn’t seen me.

Or maybe she had and was doing exactly what we were both supposed to be doing.

Acting like none of it meant anything.

I blew out a slow breath.

Chill. Relax. Be cool.

You can do this.

After matching with a few girls this morning and messaging back and forth with one of them, I’d spent the rest of the afternoon inputting grades and doing my best not to think about tonight.

But ever since spotting Lucy at the coffee shop, I’d been wound tight .

And seeing her now—poised and focused—wasn’t exactly helping.

Yeah, I needed to line up an actual date. Fast.

So before heading down to meet Theo, I pulled up the thread I’d started with MaryAnn—the kindergarten teacher who seemed funny, smart, normal—and typed out a message.

Me: Hey, this might be jumping the gun a little, but would you be up for grabbing dinner sometime soon? My buddy just opened a Thai place downtown. I’ve been meaning to check it out and would love some company.

I hit send , then switched over to my texts to double-check where Theo said he was sitting.

Theo: We’re sitting in section D, about halfway up. See you soon.

I scanned the stands, eyes skimming over clusters of students and families until I spotted Theo.

His brown hair looked unruly, like he’d let his three-year-old daughter run her brush through it again.

And perched neatly in his lap was Charlotte, her curls pulled into their signature pigtails, the only style Theo ever seemed to manage.

She was wearing a tiny red leotard that looked suspiciously like a miniature version of the team’s uniform.

Of course she was.

I smiled despite myself.

I jogged down the cement steps, the echo of my shoes bouncing faintly off the walls as I made my way toward them. Theo spotted me and lifted a hand in greeting.

“Hey, man,” he said as I reached them. “Grab that seat.” He nodded to the chair on his left.

“These two on the aisle are for my parents. Mom should be here soon, but Dad’s doing his usual thing—making the rounds, chatting up the donor box, maybe leading a cheer in the student section. You know. Presidential duties.”

“Right,” I said, exhaling as I sank into the seat.

Dare I hope the presidential duties took up a good chunk of the meet? Because, yeah, if I only had to pretend I wasn’t hyper-aware of the fact that I’d kissed his daughter two weeks ago for part of the night, that would be great.

Still, as I glanced back toward the floor and caught another glimpse of Lucy prepping at the vault runway, that small comfort didn’t do much to quiet the thud in my chest.

This was going to be a long night.

And I was already in way over my head.