I’m pathetic.
“Fantastic! We will see you all this afternoon,” Miles announces, effectively ending our meeting. The few of us standing against the back wall pile through the door before the typical post-meeting chit-chat finds us.
“How ya doin’, Geer?” a coach asks me as we make our way back to the hotel lobby. I can’t remember this guy’s name. “Solid turnout you guys have this go round.”
Nodding in response, I sip my coffee, hoping this indicates clearly that I am a no-chit-chatkind of guy. He doesn’t take the hint.
“How’s Garrett Connors’ knee? You think he’ll be ready by the fall?” Mystery Man keeps in step with me.
Taking another drink, I shrug. I don’t think of myself as a rude person, per se, just a quiet, would-rather-be-alone type of person. Too many interactions within a 24-hour period makes me grumpy. Is it possible that I’m always grumpy? Yes. But I’d rather focus on the situation at hand, which is—I peek at the guy’s name tag—Coach Daniels being a little too chipper first thing in the morning.
“Would you like help at the scrimmage?” he asks earnestly, anticipation all over his face.
Eyeing him, I ask, “Do you have the margin?”
Clearing his throat, he hesitates, “Yeah, I only have one athlete this year.” The defeat on his face is obvious at the difference in his team compared to everyone else’s. To mine.
“One is better than none,” I say.
My first year at this camp, I was just the assistant, feeling overwhelmed and out of place with only two athletes. Daniels looks around the lobby as we make our way to the communal area, taking in the view. He’s young—compared to me, anyway. His eyes sparkle with excitement, and I let myself feel it too. Being here can be daunting and grueling. This year feels more so than the last. I have a pack of parents awaiting my daily updatesand some faculty members awaitingpersonalupdates. We sit at the bar in comfortable silence, taking in the patrons of the hotel, some athletes and some typical vacationers, the hot Florida sun shining through big front windows.
Daniels shifts in his seat. The awkward silence must be making him uncomfortable. I have no idea why. I could sit in this awkward silence all day and not bat an eye. He lets out a hefty breath, tapping his fingers on the top of his knee.
“This your first year, huh?” I ask.
“Is it that obvious?” He chuckles, waving down the bartender.
“A bit.”
The bartender takes his order, and we sit in silence again until he returns with two bright-pinkmocktails.My face is probably twisted in disgust based on Daniels’ reaction. He laughs and shrugs, embracing the fruity drink with an umbrella in his hand and taking a long sip.
I cheers his drink with my coffee and disregard the pink slush on the counter.
“Malcolm Geer!”
Kate’s all-too-familiar voice booms across the lobby, followed by pounding footsteps. Tension rises in my shoulders as I brace for impact. Daniels’ eyes go wide as he looks from me, to the sound, then back at me. The steps get closer behind me, and it’s no surprise that everyone in the area is watching to see what is about to unfold as this tiny fireball approaches us.
“Kate Stanley,” I say behind my coffee cup, turning slowly on the barstool to face her. The trick here is not to let her know she’s riled you up. It spurs her on, and then you’re trying to contain the Energizer Bunny. Remain calm, and she will stay calm,feeding off your energy—or some other nonsense my therapist told me.
“Why haven’t you responded? Are you—”
Cutting off the spiral of worry she’s about to embark on, I direct her attention to the person seated to my left. “This is Coach Daniels. Daniels, this is Coach Stanley.”
Standing abruptly, he almost knocks the barstool over as he reaches out for Kate’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Stanley.” His eyes dance around her face, and his smile is unnaturally wide as they shake hands. I don’t likethat.
“Nice to meet you, Daniels. Nice drink you have there,” she jokes. My gaze is pinned on the slow release of their hands and the twitch of Daniels’ fingers as they make their way back to the counter. Definitely don’t likethat.
“Pretty manly, huh?” He gives her a smirk, and I’m immediately regretting letting this man sit with me.
“Very. I see you haven’t touched your pink drink, Mr. Geer.” She nods to the sad drink next to me. The fancy whipped topping has started to melt, with the umbrella drowning in it.
“Come on, Geer. Drink this manly drink with me.” Daniels laughs, slurping down the last drop of his.
“Maybe another time,” I lie, having no intention anytime soon on partaking in fruity drinks.
“Daniels, I’ll see you this afternoon.” Shaking his hand, I tip the bartender and give Kate a glare. “Stanley,” I say before heading toward the elevators.
Kate’s little steps scurry after me, I have to bite my lip from chuckling at the sound of her pardoning and excusing herself to people as we pass. It’s a shame I can’t ignore this woman like I can other people. She’s kind of a meddler. And a heckler at times. With the best of intentions.
