“Guys want to show their girls off, Clare. It’s a compliment.”
“A compliment?” I quirk an eyebrow at his answer.
“Yeah, like a good dinner.”
“I’m not a meal.”
Drew laughs and stands from his chair. His feet land hard on the tile floor. “No, but if you were, you’d be prime cutlets.”
“See…” I shake my head and follow him to my office door. “No girl wants to be referred to as prime cutlets.”
“That’s because no girl understands what a compliment prime cutlets is.”
“You really think it’s a compliment to be compared to a side of beef?”
“Yes.” Drew opens my door, but stops before walking out. “And a cutlet is not a side of beef. It’s a thin slice of veal.”
“Oh yes, that definitely makes it better. Every girl wants to be referred to as a dead baby cow.” I’ve never been able to figure out if all men are this stupid or if Drew is in the special class on his own.
**
The bright neon green papers crinkle as I pile up the stack of flyers for the center’s first soccer game against Ryland’s college players. In order to balance both his coaching duties and volunteering at the center, he created optional weekend events for his players to help out the local kids with their kicking and passing. It’s a great opportunity for both sides and now he says we’re ready for the first game.
I’ll be happy as long as we don’t get shut out or have any of my kids get into a fist fight on the field. There are definitely a few players who stand out amongst the pack. The odds of any of them getting into a program like Stanford are one in a billion, but Ryland has promised to make calls for a few players if they keep their heads up and out of trouble. There is more than one local community college with a soccer team. I hate to make promises or get someone’s hopes up when I don’t control the outcome, but an opportunity of this nature would be life changing.
Tomorrow I’ll put out the flyers and make the RDA girls aware they have a commitment that Sunday afternoon. They’ll be here with literal bells on. Or worse, pompoms cheering from the sidelines. Marissa showed off her Stanford temporary face tattoos at the last girls’ brunch. She’s ready to get out there and support Ryland’s team. This will give her a practice opportunity. And of course at least one of them will bring food. You can always count on there being food when you get two or more RDA girls together. A knock on the door draws my attention.
“Can we use your office?” John asks, peeking in from the hallway.
I stand. “Of course. Sure. What’s up?” It’s never a good sign when someone needs to use the office for something and they ask super calmly and politely. Here’s hoping it’s something minor.
Even if I have a feeling Drew will try and steal Grant’s attention tonight, I’d still like to get home with enough time to change my clothes. Take a shower. And put on something cute. The jeans and black hooded sweatshirts I wear every day to work don’t inspire take-me-now lusty feelings. Not only is Grant the first guy I don’t panic waking up next to, but he’s about to become the first guy I make an effort for on a Thursday night.
He has no idea how rare that is.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re not going to talk me into it!” Travis yells from somewhere farther in the hallway.
Okay, so definitely important then.
I hurry and wave John in so I can figure out whatever is wrong with Travis. Once he leaves the center, he’s on his own devices to solve this problem. While he’s here, we have two caring adults to help him work through whatever would cause him to yell at John. It’s something many of these kids don’t find at home.
John holds the door open with his back waiting for Travis to walk in and sit. The teen stomps across the room and throws himself in the chair. The wooden legs squeak on the tile, sliding at least an inch across the floor.
John starts to close the door but I shake my head. “Door open, please.” It’s private enough down the hallway and a closed room with two guys goes against center protocol.
Travis snorts. “Yeah, better for me to get up and walk out.”
“Travis…” I say his name, slowly. “You can leave whenever you want, but you’re obviously upset, and I’d like to find out why.”
“It’s none of your business.” Travis crosses his arms and sends a hard look to John.
He’s more amenable in telling me what I want to know. “Travis stopped in to tell us he can’t play any more soccer games and he won’t be coming to the center any longer,” John says also using a soothing voice.
Travis rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t pop out. He’s obviously on to our technique. “Yeah and then tell her how you started asking me all kinds of questions. He’s prying into my business.”
I want to let him get his anger out, but I also want to get snarky and remind him it’s what I pay John to do. But there’s a time and place for snark when you’re dealing with teenagers, and right now isn’t it.
“Well John is obviously concerned about you, Travis. I would have asked the same questions.”
