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“I know you guys think I’m just this handsome and unknowable tower of masculinity and unmatched athletic prowess. I don’t want her to ruin the mystery for you by humanizing me.” I sipped my drink, chuckling as they all exploded into laughter.
“Right,” Corny said. “Like there’s anything we need to know beyond the fact that you’re always exactly where you’re supposed to be to make a shot. And that you’ll beat the shit out of anyone who even looks at Mizzoni the wrong way.”
There were murmurs of approval. I wasn’t alone in that one. We protected our goalie like he was made of glass, but I’d seen Mizzoni hold his own in a fight too.
I tried not to let Corny’s dismissive words rile me. Maybe I hadn’t let all the guys see past the image I worked hard to protect, but it had never bothered me to hear it—until now.
“I think there’s plenty below the surface,” Clara said, taking my hand. My whole body warmed at her touch.
I watched as my teammates exchanged not-too-subtle glances.
“Awww, she’s defending you, Sly.” Simpson said, pushing his broad shoulders into Corny’s personal space as he leaned forward. “That’s actually really awesome.” He grinned widely at us. Simpson’s beard was huge and unruly, and Corny frowned as it came perilously close to dipping into his drink.
“Dude!” Corny pulled his glass away from the imposing beard.
“This is new,” I told them, gesturing between Clara and me. “So no analysis is needed, thanks.”
Simpson and his beard retreated back to the other end of the bar, and I could hear him posing another question to Corny that would undoubtedly have them debating for another hour or so. “Invisibility or the gift of flight?”
“Excuse me,” Mizzoni said, picking up a cloth behind the bar and heading down to wipe up something in front of the guys at the other end.
For the first time since we’d arrived, Clara and I were left alone.
“A little overwhelming?” I asked her.
She shook her head and took a sip of her drink. “No, it’s fun to meet your teammates. I guess this would be like me taking you to an office party.”
“Do you have an office party coming up? Was that a subtle invitation?”
Clara’s blue eyes twinkled. “I don’t, but I would invite you if I did.”
“Thank you. I would accept. Even if there were going to be bears in attendance.” I wondered what Clara’s coworkers would think of me. They were all scientists, like her...it would be a tough crowd to impress. I pushed the thought away.
We sat together for a little while, absorbing the increasingly rowdy banter around us as I enjoyed the feeling of being close to Clara, of having her at my side and knowing she was here with me. I saw the guys eyeing her appreciatively in a way I’d never seen them do when I’d brought other women to team events. A warm glow of pride lit inside me. She was here with me. She’d chosen me.
More people arrived, and soon there was an assortment of food spread across the long table, and everyone moved to pick up plates and find spots to eat. Clara and I carried our plates to the edge of the pool where there was a round table with an umbrella, Rock Stevens and his fiancée already settled and eating beneath it.
“Join you?” I asked them.
“Please,” Drea said gesturing to the open seats. “I haven’t gotten to meet you yet,” she said to Clara. “I’m Drea. This is Rock.”
They exchanged pleasantries, and once we were seated, Clara looked back at Drea. “We’re literally the only two women here.”
“There’s a rule,” Rock said around a chicken leg.
“A rule?” Clara asked.
“There’s no rule. It’s nothing,” I suggested, a tiny prick of panic welling up in me. Clara did not need to know about the rule. “Rock, how’s your shoulder? You ready for the game in a couple weeks?” Rock had been playing a lot of pickle ball and had evidently developed something he called “pickle shoulder,” which the team doctors were a little worried about.
“Shoulder’s fine. There is a rule,” he said, waving the leg at me now. “It’s new. And it’s his fault. Not that it affects me.”
Drea shook her head, as if they’d spoken previously about Rock’s propensity for waving barbecued meat around.
“What’s the rule?” Clara asked. “No women at team parties?” Her face wrinkled into adorable confusion, and I wanted to pick her up and carry her away before Rock told her why there were no other women here. His revelation would only serve to confirm to her the image I was working so hard to break away from.
“Only fiancées, wives, and serious pursuits allowed at team events.” I winced. What would Clara think of being pushed into the category of ‘serious pursuit’?
Clara appeared totally unfazed and looked around again. “None of these guys are married?”
