“Admit what?” I blinked up at him a couple of times, tilting my head to the side to act like I had no idea what he was referring to.
“It sucks ass.” He clapped his hands, laughing louder. “It totally sucks.”
“I think it’s fantastic,” I said again, hoping my voice sounded confident. I took another bite of ice cream and sip of beer and cringed. He saw it. “Fine. You win.”
“Ah, I enjoy hearing that.” He leaned back into the chair, grinning at me way too widely. “I’m on fire tonight.”
“Asshole,” I mumbled under my breath but gasped when he grabbed the beer from my hands. “Woah!”
“Did you still want to drink it?” He tilted his head.
“Uh, I don’t waste beer.” I made a face that hopefully said ‘duh.’ He guffawed at me, sitting back down with those intense eyes watching me. “I know I’m an odd duck. No need to tell me with your eyes.”
“You are something else. I’ll tell you that.” He sighed, leaning forward on his knees. “Now, about this teaching thing, what are your thoughts?”
“It rattled me. I never thought about it. Ever.” I deflated, the confusion of the future taking over me again. “I know what I love to do, and teaching would encompass it.”
“Try it, then. What do you have to lose?” He shrugged, and his gaze had a way of making me feel like I was the only person in the world to exist.
“Failing,” I said, looking at the ground. My finger clenched around the bottle uncomfortably, and I hated admitting my fears to anyone, but Brock was the right person. He made me feel alright admitting my dark thoughts. “I have no experience with kids. None. What if I suck, and I can’t find another job?”
I waited for his reply, but it never came. I looked up to see his eyes still on me, assessing whatever the hell he saw. I pursed my lips, but he kept staring. My patience ran thin, and I probed him, “Well?”
“I have an idea.”
“I’m all ears.” My heart beat faster, hopeful for some guidance. He wouldn’t steer me wrong.
“Volunteer with me.”
“Uh, I’m gonna need more details than that. With what, where?”
“November has a recreational football league with kids aged seven to fifteen. They play games on Tuesday and Thursday nights, and I volunteer to be there just in case there is an injury.”
“Uh, maybe?” I said, taking another sip. My racing heart laughed and laughed inside my body. Volunteering with him outside of work? More time with him?
He chuckled, shaking his head at me. “No pressure. I suggested it because this could be an easy way to acclimate yourself with the youth. It would be similar to a high school football program, I imagine.”
“Damn that youth,” I joked, getting a smile in return. “I guess it depends on my classes.” I frowned, letting some insecurities take over me. “College athletes are different. Younger kids? I might be awful at it.”
“Grace, you know your shit. You have no problem telling people when they aren’t doing something right. You’re nice, enough. You’ll be fine. Kids need the truth.” He nodded, like he wouldn’t let me turn down the offer. “It’s perfect.”
“I don’t see how this is perfect, but I’ll consider it.”
“You should consider it. We get along well. We work great together. Plus, you owe me. I let you stay here during the storm.”
“Oh, you were going to leave me in the wild then? That’s what you’re saying?” I punched his arm in a playful, not touchy sort of way.
“I could’ve. Just saying. You owe me.” He stuck his tongue out at me.
I set my bottle down and pointed my finger at him. “You are bullying me into this.”
“I don’t care. You want to explore the potential to teach. You’ve admitted you aren’t sure what your passion is besides working with athletes. Teaching lets you work with athletes, teach others how to do what you love, and you’ll fit right in with the high schoolers. You look just like them.”
“I do not!” I scoffed, eyeing my athletic outfit. The sports bra underneath the sweatshirt gave me a uniboob. “Okay, I might look young.”
“You look young.” His gaze flicked to my hair, neck, chest before coming back to my eyes.
“I’m not wearing makeup. With makeup, I look older.” I pouted, hating myself for allowing him to get the best of me.
