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There are tournament afterparties?

I absorb all the information with rapt attention, jotting down notes on everything in the notebook. Then, once Joanne is done, we move on to details of the course.

“Prepare for lots of doglegs,” Alan says.

“Mostly left to right,” Murray adds, scratching his beard.

“The greens get quite windy. We’ll need to work on backspin,” Bryan tells Levi, then turns and nods down at me.

I eagerly nod back and scribble down the information. A question pops into my head, and I open my mouth to ask it, but the conversation moves along. I snap my mouth shut and glance around.

Levi catches my eye from across the room and frowns at my expression. “Time out. Hazel, do you have a question?”

My eyes widen and I fight the blush that wants to take over my cheeks. “Oh, um. Maybe,” I say, fidgeting with my pen.

“Don’t be afraid to ask. No one here will judge you for it,” Levi tells me. His voice is not exactly dripping in warmth, but his gaze tells me he means every word. That he understands this is a learning experience for me and wants me to succeed.

“You said we need to work on backswing,” I say to Bryan.

He eyes me with amusement and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Yes?”

“What’s your ball of choice?” I ask Levi.

“TaylorMade.”

I nod and look back to Bryan. “What if we try a Bridgestone? It’s great for approach shots.” To Murray, I say, “His speed is fine without the TaylorMade.”

The two coaches assess me and make eye contact over my head. Levi smiles from across the room and my spine straightens with pride.

“Let’s try it out,” Bryan says.

Murray pats my shoulder and I can’t keep the grin off my face.

“Let’s go into training details next,” the new guy, Donal, says, going over a series of exercises that Levi can incorporate into his workouts. Strength training, mobility work, explosive movements.

I listen with rapt attention, absorbing all the information I can, writing furiously in my notebook. The nutritionist goes over a list of suggestions for the next two weeks, and I circle some of the meals that I could easily make at home.

As we take a break, Levi walks out with some members of the team who are leaving for the day. They’ll either come in another time to meet with him or meet us all in New York.

Bryan scoots his chair closer to me and opens up his laptop. He walks me through the simulation software he uses to analyze the greens and make predictions. “I’ll get you an account created for next time.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m really excited to learn more about this.”

“You’re on the right team, then,” he smiles, showing off his canines. Much like the rest of the coaches in this room, he seems to be around forty, with brown eyes and short black hair streaked with gray.

Murray and Alan are the only other people left in the conference room, and I take a backseat while I listen to their commentary on the course.

“Has he played this course before?” Alan asks.

Murray nods, typing something on his own laptop. “Eight years ago.” He plugs something in, seemingly connecting to the projector.

“How’d he do?” Alan raises an eyebrow at the Irish man.

Murray grins. “He came second. It was his first-ever U.S. tour and he was pissed. He really wanted to win it.”

Bryan laughs. “Second is very impressive at that age. He must have been, what—twenty-one?”

“Twenty-two,” Murray confirms.