“Listen, Hop, who chooses to go down a big-ass hill on tiny, skinny sticks at the speed of light for fun?”
He did the grunt-snort thing and ran a hand over his jaw like maybe my question had merit. (It did. It was a great question.) “It’s a sport, one could argue the same thing about basketball. Why shoot a ball into a basket?”
“People don’t die playing basketball.”
“I don’t remember you being this scared when we were younger.” His dark-gray eyes held a twinkle I didn’t like.Is he baiting me?
My right eye twitched, and I recrossed my legs aggressively. “I’m fearless except when it comes to snow.”
“Or the wordpanties.”
“Damn it, Hayden.” I covered my ears with my hands, acting like the teenagers I taught and really showing my maturity.He already thinks I’m foolish and a kid sister.“Look, there are just some sounds I don’t enjoy hearing. It’s why I don’t like country music. The twang. Theangsound or theantior the first part of the wordointment. It makes my skin crawl like lizards are swimming in my veins.”
“So definitely don’t ask if you brought yourointment?”
“You are the worst.” I crossed my arms, my skin crawling. “Let’s just enjoy silence for the next seventy minutes. I could use this free time to prepare.”
“For what?” he asked, his tone a little lighter. “Stuff at school?”
Like he was genuinely curious about my life.
Okay, that wasn’t fair. He cared about me in the way you did a family friend.
“Kinda,” I said, scrolling through my phone to my interview brainstorm doc. The fifteen most commonly used coaching interview questions sat there, along with my ownnotes about what I would do if I led the softball program. Goose bumps broke out head to toe, not from the cold but from excitement. The thought of creating and running a softball program for our hometown had been a dream of mine for years. Coaching the same teams I played on from junior high on? I wanted it so badly. I knew the odds were stacked against me and that the good ole boys’ club would probably continue, but I had to give it my all.
Even if the athletics director didn’t like me one bit.
“Is it finals?”
“No, those are in two weeks.” I chewed my lip, my pulse racing at the possibility of achieving my goal. I knew I’d be young to run a softball program, but age didn’t equate to passion or experience or drive. I’d be going against older men who’d coached for longer, but did they have the same life experience I did? No. Not at all. I exhaled, willing myself to stop comparing my journey to theirs.
“Prepare for what then?”
Oh shit. I’d forgotten about Hayden’s question.
“My interview,” I said, way too quickly.
“Are you changing jobs?”
A prickle of annoyance weaved its way down my back. I’d been talking about this head coaching spot for months, hell, years. Everyone in my circle knew. Even my parents’ backyard neighbors, Curt and Mindy, knew about it. Was Hayden being obtuse on purpose? The thought angered me. “Didn’t Christian mention it? The head coaching job?”
He sat taller, stiffer. Then he said, “We rarely talk about you.”
Okay, did he have to say it with so much attitude? My chest tightened, and a gross, terrible weight sank in my gut. His response rattled me, and I hugged myself tighter. “Right. Of course. Why would you?”
I wasn’t important to him.
The air shifted, and my dumb eyes prickled. The night I kissed him changed everything. It wasn’t just that he turned me down; our entire friendship ended. We used to do all sorts of things together, sometimes with more friends or just him and my brother. It was fun and easy. But since that kiss, things changed. I wasn’t part of their trio anymore. Penny was, which was great. I loved her! I did. She was my sister from another mister, but the divide between Hayden and me seemed to grow bigger and bigger.
“Wait, no, it’s not—”
“Please, it’s fine.” I waved my hand in the air, dismissing his excuse.
It wasn’t fine.Iwasn’t fine but that didn’t matter. Confrontation so wasn’t my thing. I hated it at school when students acted out and even more so when parents wanted to talk about their students’ grades. I cowered, desperate to find the middle ground always. The only time I felt in my element and confident was on the diamond. An ump made the wrong call? I was right there demanding an answer. An opposing coach yelled at my girls? Bring it on.
But outside those chalked lines, I avoided confrontation at all costs.
“Charlotte,” Hayden said, his voice hesitant, “that came out harsher than I intended. I’m sorry. Of course we talk about you.”
