“So you played kissy-face with Mr. Peterson. Good for you.” Maynor places his hand on my knee. “Darius, you deserve to be happy.”
“That’s the thing. I want to be. I’ve liked Harry for a while now. Years, I guess.”
“I figured that’s why you’re always giving him a hard time.”
“You knew?”
“Why else would you tease him so mercilessly?”
“Exactly. See, you get it. But the thing is, even after the . . . kissy-face stuff . . . he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“No. Well, sort of. He ignored me the rest of the trip. And this morning, he told me it was all a mistake.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Coach.” Maynor pulls his lips in, trying to hide his grin. “Listen, if it helps, one thing I know about courtin’ is you can’t give up. Did I ever tell you about how I finally nabbed Lucy?”
I shake my head, curious despite myself. Maynor hasn’t talked much about Lucy since she passed.
“Well, let me tell you. It wasn’t easy. We met in college, back when we were both still figuring out life. I’d seen her around campus, of course—smart, confident, and the kind of woman who walks into a room like she owns it. I’m not gonna lie, I was drawn to her from the first moment I saw her.” He chuckles, shaking his head as if the memory still amuses him.
“But Lucy? She wasn’t interested in me at all. Not at first. She had this whole ‘I’m focused on my future’ vibe, and I was just some guy on the hockey team who made terrible jokes and had no clue how to talk to women. I tried everything—inviting her to study groups, sitting near her in the dining hall, but she barely gave me the time of day.” He pauses, a smirk creeping up his face. “I’ve never seen someone dodge a guy’s advances so smoothly. It was like watching someone avoid a puddle—she just glided right around me.”
I laugh softly, trying to picture it.
“But you didn’t give up, did you?” I ask.
“Nope,” he says, shaking his head again, more serious now. “I was persistent. I kept showing up, kept being myself, even when it felt like she didn’t notice. And eventually, after months of me just being around—after all those terrible dates I set up that ended in ‘Let’s just be friends,’ she finally saw something in me. Maybeshe saw the effort I was putting in, maybe she saw I wasn’t going anywhere, but one night, after a late study session, she asked me to grab a coffee. Just the two of us.”
“And that was it?” I ask, surprised at how simple it sounds.
“Yeah,” he nods, looking almost nostalgic. “It’s funny how that works. Sometimes you don’t know when the moment’s going to hit, but when it does, everything falls into place. It wasn’t some grand gesture. It was just me being there. And the next thing I knew, we were together.”
I can see the heartache in his eyes, and I reach over and squeeze his shoulder. “You two had something special.”
He nods, taking a deep inhale.
“I think I get what you’re saying,” I say. “Keep showing up?”
Maynor grins, his usual easy confidence back. “Exactly. You keep showing up, Coach. You never know when it’ll click.”
“All right, Applegate,” I say, squeezing his shoulder. “I need to get the balls reset.”
“And I need to get back to class. Remember, keep showing up.”
With that, I turn and head toward my office, feeling a bit lighter than before. Maybe there’s more to this whole “showing up” thing than I realized. Thoughts of how to reach Harry and show him my resolve chase each other through my mind. I know there’s something between us, and I’m not giving up.
7
DARIUS
I’m standingby the hallway entrance to the gym when Harry walks up with his class. Fifth graders have PE twice a week, and regardless of how much he’d like to avoid me, we have to see each other at least these few moments when he drops them off and picks them up.
But something’s off with Harry. He’s usually calm and collected, especially with his students. But not today. I sense it immediately—the tension in his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes as he hurries Penny at the front of the line into the gym.
He checks his watch as the class files in, heading to the center circle and sitting. This is their third year at Crossroads, and they know what I expect.
When the last few in line cross the doorway, I call to them, “Two minutes of deep breathing. Center yourselves for dodgeball.”
