“Yeah, I got that vibe when he practically bit my head off for touching his precious kitchen tools this morning,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Not like the kitchen was spotless to begin with. Which made it worse. It’s not like you can mess up a mess. He complained because I put the spatula face down.”
Noah laughs. “See what I mean? Total diva when it comes to his cooking domain. But he’ll warm up to you, eventually.”
I nod, reassured. Maybe I’m being overly sensitive—this is a fresh start, and I can’t let past drama cloud things.
Noah gives me an encouraging pat on the back. “You’ve got this, Dylan. Forget about Jayden and his nitpicking. Remember why you’re here. Go show them what you’ve got.”
With renewed confidence, I head into the training room, ready to prove my worth. Noah’s right —I can’t let Jayden or anyone else shake me. It’s time I take my destiny into my own hands.
I take a seat on the floor next to some of my new teammates, feeling their curious eyes on me. I know I’m the new girl, the unknown entity, but I’m determined to show them I belong here.
As the instructor starts leading us through a series of yoga poses and breathing exercises, I feel myself relaxing into the movements, the stress of the past few weeks melting away. This may look like woo-woo nonsense to some of the guys, but I can already feel it centering me, getting me in the zone.
It’s hard to lead a group when you’re flustered and all over the place in your own mind. Putting your own emergency mask on before helping others, and all that.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Noah across the room, contorting his tall frame into awkward yoga positions. He looks utterly ridiculous and I have to stifle a laugh.
He catches me watching him and winks dramatically, nearly toppling over in the process.
I shake my head and turn my focus back to my own breathing, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. For a rugby player, especially one of his size, he’s actually quite bendy.
It’s when he contorts his body into happy baby pose that I finally lose my shit, earning a stern look from the instructor when I laugh so hard I snort and end up doubled over on the floor.
This huge man, his bulging, muscular thighs squeezed against his chest, desperately trying to wrap his fingers around his pinky toes but not quite making it. He’s flailing around like an ant that’s fallen on its back and can’t get up.
Unable to help myself, I discreetly whip out my phone and take a brief video to share with the other guys later. All’s fair in love and roommate war.
Maybe this captain training program won’t be so bad after all. With classmates like Noah lightening the mood, I might even enjoy myself.
Chapter 14
Dylan
Afterourmindfulnesssession,it’s time for lunch.
I can’t get the first taste of mac and cheese out of my head as I follow Noah across the lawn. The warm, gooey cheese still coats my tongue, a delicious distraction from the butterflies in my stomach. For a sports program, they certainly put on an impressive display of food.
I really like how the nutritionists here focus on a balanced approach, taking overall macros and calories into account rather than banning ‘bad’ foods. It’s a far cry from the more restrictive food regimes I’ve heard other clubs subscribe to, and, as a foodie, I’m so grateful this was the club that picked me.
Noah waves over three hulking guys who are tossing a rugby ball back and forth. “Mike, Sione, Hone, come meet Dylan!”
My palms sweat. Will Noah’s teammates like me? I know how cliquey teams can be. But Mike’s smile is as warm as the mac and cheese. “Welcome to the madhouse! How are you liking it so far?”
Sione claps my shoulder. “We heard you’re a hell of a hooker. Can’t wait to see your skills on the pitch.”
“I bet she can drink us all under the table too,” Hone says with a wink. His easy banter sets me at ease, almost as if he’s treating me like one of the guys. Maybe I’ve found my people.
We chat about our favorite teams and playlists until we’re called back to the session.
As we walk, Noah murmurs, “Told you this would change our lives.”
With his team already feeling like family, I’m starting to believe him.
I slide into a seat next to Noah in the auditorium as the day’s guest speaker, Nigel Nesbitt, takes the stage with Cynthia, a handsome, angular woman who manages the club’s leadership program. Her no-nonsense ponytail and sharp blazer contrast with Nigel’s surfer dude vibe.
“Leadership,” Nigel begins. “It’s a word that gets thrown around a lot in sports. But what does it really mean?”
Cynthia clicks to the next slide. “Leadership is influence,” she says crisply. “It’s about inspiring others towards a common goal.”