HARRISON
The tension in my neck had subsided, and my body relaxed more today than it had in weeks. I usually worked out hard for a few hours to even feel a little bit of peace. The thought of going downstairs to lift weights didn’t even cross my mind. Who the fuck was I?
Is this because of Becca? Because of getting laid? Is that all I’d needed?
Focusing on the task of cooking, my mind replayed the event, overanalyzing it like a football game. What worked well, what I could do better next time. Because, damn, I wanted there to be a next time. Smiling to myself, I schooled my features as soft footsteps entered the kitchen.
Becca wore yoga pants, bright pink boots, and a multicolored sweater and had wrapped herself in one of the blankets. “You look like a rainbow threw up.”
“Thank you.” She masked her face into indifference and sat at the kitchen table, her posture too straight. “You seem to be in a good mood.”
“I am.” I shrugged and gave her a sheepish look. “I have a beautiful woman in my house, I’m about to eat, and I’ve regained feeling in all my body parts. What’s there to be glum about?”
“Ah, with a cheery outlook like that, it’s crazy to think I used to think of you as being a grump.”
“A grump?” My interest piqued. “Care to expand?”
She blushed as she cracked her knuckles, her gaze on the tabletop. “You never really smile on campus. I used to think it was just me. You know, the whole date-that-went-wrong thing. But the girls noticed, too. If we had the game on TV, you had a deep frown on your face. Made you seem very intimidating and unapproachable.”
Irritation crept over me. “Again, the date didn’t go wrong. It was great, and we’ve established I’m an ass. And the smiling thing, do you mean in passing?”
“Yes, but also all the time. Seeing you in your truck, when you’re coaching, or even a casual walk-by on the quad. You have this sullen handsome-guy-who’s-unhappy look about you.”
Am I unhappy?
What does happy even mean? I scratched my chin, focusing on the eggs instead of her words. This wasn’t a casual conversation. This felt deeper, and it didn’t sit well with me. Had anyone ever called me a grump before? Or unhappy?
My sister calls me an asshole.
My parents say I’m not as enjoyable as dear Hank.
My ex said I enjoyed being miserable.
My players said I wasn’t approachable.
Huh. Grump was the nicest way to say all the above. Something Becca had said earlier came back to my mind, and I schooled my tone so it wasn’t too intense. “Is this what you meant when you said I always looked down on you when you were with the girls?”
“Oh. Right.” She winced. “Yeah, actually. Since the date, I’ve run into you with the girls probably four times. Once, we were wearing matching shirts on the way to a philanthropy event, and you had this angry expression on your face. It made me feel silly for about a second.”
“Becca—”
“No, it’s okay. It was only a second because I love what I do and I’m proud of who I am.” She placed the palms of her hands on the table, her chest puffed out.
She really was proud, and that loosened something tight in my chest.
“You should be proud.” I flipped the eggs and sighed, remembering the day she mentioned. She’d worn a hot pink tank top that showed off her curves, and she’d had the biggest smile on her face. I was jealous.
I gripped the back of my neck, kneading the stress for a beat. “My ex-wife caused me issues that morning, asking for more money. Then I saw you, so happy and beautiful with those girls who love you. It reminded me of what I didn’t have. The team has had a rough couple of years. We aren’t ateamin the truest sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“A team is all of us working toward the same goal.” I shook my head, remembering how one captain was set on going to the NFL and didn’t care about anyone else’s stats but his own. Or how another junior on the team didn’t give a shit about his grades. Or how two seniors cared more about getting high than working out. “They show up for practices and games, but it’s like they’re going through the motions. Their souls aren’t in it.”
She played with the hem of her shirt, a deep line between her eyebrows. “What’s the goal for the team?”
“Hmm?” Tilting my head, I studied her eyes.
“You said their souls aren’t in it and a team should be working toward the same goal. So, Coach Cooper, what is the goal?”
