Beyound the schedule

Lydia was cold.

Not just the usual not-interested kind of cold. No, she was arctic-level unbothered, the kind of woman who could walk through fire and come out completely untouched.

And I couldn't decide if that was annoying or kind of hot.

Probably both.

She hadn't even flinched at my flirting. No little smirk, no amusement, no nothing. Just pure professionalism, like she had already mentally filed me under "problem to be dealt with" and moved on.

Which, to be fair, wasn't wrong.

But still.

I leaned back in my chair, stretching, my mind replaying the interaction.

Lydia Whitmore.

She could be a great one-night stand.

It might happen.

Would I have to work for it?

Oh, definitely.

But for now?

I had training to get back to.

I pushed up from the chair, rolling my shoulders as I stepped out of Rivera's office and back into the hallway.

My mind was still half on her, half on how much fun it would be to crack that icy exterior, but as soon as I stepped outside—

All hell broke loose.

It started with Mia.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

Then Sofia, who elbowed Mia so hard she nearly fell over.

"Who was that?"

I blinked. "What?"

Tasha had her hands on her hips, eyes locked on something in the distance. "That woman who just left."

I followed their gaze—

And there she was.

Lydia, walking across the parking lot, heading to her car, completely unaware of the effect she was having.

Sunlight caught in her golden-brown hair, making it look like something straight out of a damn shampoo commercial.

The way she moved—perfect posture, crisp strides, not a single second wasted—was so effortlessly poised it was almost infuriating.

And the skirt.

The fucking skirt.

It fit dangerously well, long enough to be professional but just tight enough to make people stare.

And—judging by the way my teammates were losing their minds—they were definitely staring.

Mia let out a low whistle. "Holy shit."

Sofia nodded aggressively. "That's a woman."

Tasha scoffed, arms crossed. "No way she's here for us. We don't get people that hot in management."

Mia grinned. "She's gotta be a new PR rep, right? Or maybe a new team lawyer?"

"Oh, please," Sofia groaned. "I would commit actual crimes to have a lawyer that hot."

Tasha shook her head, eyes still locked on Lydia's retreating form. "Nah. She's too… intense. Did you see her face? She looks like she doesn't tolerate bullshit."

Mia laughed. "Oh, yeah. That's sexy."

I sighed.

I could already see it happening.

My team—my team—was collectively thirsting over the woman who had been assigned to control me.

Of course.

They had no idea what they were in for.

"Alright," I said, loudly, clapping my hands together. "Everyone shut up."

No one shut up.

Instead, Sofia turned to me, grinning. "You talked to her, right? What's her name?"

I smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Tasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up, Vesper. Just tell us."

I stretched, dragging out the silence before finally saying—

"Lydia."

Mia exhaled sharply. "Jesus Christ, even her name is hot."

Tasha frowned. "Wait—Lydia what?"

I grinned, knowing exactly how they were about to react.

"Lydia Whitmore."

Dead. Silence.

Then—

"Wait, what?" Mia's eyes went wide. "Like—THE Lydia Whitmore?"

Sofia's mouth actually dropped open. "No. No way."

Tasha froze. "Carmen Steele's former assistant?"

I laughed. "The very same."

Mia clutched her head. "You're telling me—THAT Lydia Whitmore is now your manager?!"

Sofia let out an actual whimper. "God, she's so out of my league."

I smirked. "Don't worry. She's out of everyone's league."

Tasha shook her head, still processing. "That woman is a legend. Do you know how many CEOs tried to hire her after she left Steele Industries? And you got her?"

I grinned. "Yep."

Mia shook her head, muttering. "The universe is so unfair."

Before the conversation could spiral any further, Coach Rivera's whistle cut through the chaos.

"ENOUGH GOSSIP. BACK TO TRAINING."

Tasha and I locked eyes.

Oh.

One-on-one drills.

I grinned.

The air was thick with anticipation as we squared up against each other.

Tasha Montgomery. Brick wall of a defender. Fast, aggressive, and almost impossible to shake.

She smirked, rolling her shoulders. "Alright, hotshot. You still got it?"

I spun the ball between my hands, smirking back. "Oh, you're about to find out."

The drill was simple—one attacker, one defender. The goal? Get past your opponent and score.

Tasha had stopped me plenty of times before.

But today?

I had too much energy.

And I needed to win.

Rivera blew the whistle.

I exploded forward.

Tasha moved instantly, stepping into my space, trying to force me toward the sideline.

But I was faster.

I feinted left—hard—then cut right, barely skimming past her as she shifted to follow.

"Not so fast—"

She lunged, going for the block—

But I was already spinning, twisting away from her reach, my footwork sharp and unstoppable.

Her eyes widened.

She recovered quickly, but it was too late.

I had her.

A quick flick of my ankle, a sharp burst of speed, and suddenly—

I was past her.

All that was left was the shot.

I didn't hesitate.

With one fluid motion, I swung my leg back—then sent the ball rocketing into the top corner of the net.

A perfect, unstoppable shot.

Silence.

Then—

"FUCK!"

Tasha's yell was drowned out by cheering, some of the others laughing, clapping, whistling.

I turned, grinning as Tasha glared at me.

"You're still slow."

I smirked. "And you're still losing."

She flipped me off.

I laughed, jogging back to the center of the field, energy buzzing through my veins.

Yeah.

I still had it.

Training stretched on for another hour, the drills becoming more intense as the sun climbed higher. Sweat dripped down my back, muscles burning from exertion, but the rush of competition kept me alive.

Tasha was still grumbling about her loss, and I made sure to remind her about it every chance I got.

"Still thinking about that goal?" I teased as we jogged laps around the field.

"Shut up, Vesper," she muttered.

I smirked.

Eventually, Rivera blew the final whistle, signaling the end of practice.

The team gathered in a loose circle on the grass, stretching out sore muscles.

I flopped onto my back, arms spread wide, exhaling slowly as the sky stretched above me.

"Freya," Mia called, nudging my leg. "You're actually stretching? Who are you and what have you done with the real Vesper?"

I cracked an eye open. "Even I have limits, Park."

Sofia groaned as she pulled her arms overhead. "God, I just wanna shower and pass out for the next ten hours."

"Same," Mia said, sighing.

I sat up, rolling out my shoulders. "Sounds boring."

"Not all of us have an energy surplus from skipping half our training sessions," Tasha grumbled.

I grinned. "Not my fault I'm naturally gifted."

Tasha kicked my foot.

After finishing our stretches, I made my way to the locker rooms, already anticipating the shock of a cold shower.

The water hit my skin like ice, sending a sharp jolt through my system, but I didn't flinch.

Instead, I let it wash over me, cooling the heat of the training session, bringing me back to center.

By the time I stepped out, steam curling around me, I felt awake again.

Refreshed.

Ready for something more interesting.

Pulling on a simple black t-shirt and jeans, I grabbed my bag and made my way out of the facility.

Most of the others were heading straight home, exhausted, ready to crash for the night.

But I?

I needed a distraction.

Something to shake up the night.

I slid into my car, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, a slow smirk curling at my lips.

"Time to go to a bar."