If there was a support group for girls trying to get over impossible crushes, I deserved a lifetime membership.
Instead, I’m walking down the brightly lit hallways of the athletic complex, watching the way Jace’s broad shoulders shift under his gray zip-up. Every step feels like a step in the wrong direction for my emotional survival, but I can't look away.
"So this is the main hub," Jace says, gesturing to a massive room filled with leather couches, flat-screen TVs, and a high-tech protein shake bar. "The players' lounge. It's mostly just a spot for the guys to play FIFA and fight over who controls the music before morning skate."
"Looks fancy," I say, clutching my blue binder tightly against my chest. "Do the student assistants get free protein shakes, or is that just for the elite at
