Malcolm lets out a singularhabefore pressing a closed fist deep into the mattress and standing up. “He’s got some nerve, doesn’t he?” he snaps out, not at me per se, but at the situation. “The man wrecks you and then wants to just catch up like nothing happened?” he growls, red staining his neck and cheeks as fury burns deep within his icy-blue eyes.
I stare at him, mouth agape. Malcolm rarely gets riled up, and if he does, he usually maintains his composure until he’s alone to process through it. The only time I’ve really ever seen him lose his cool was a few years ago after a phone call with his mom. I found him hours later, chopping wood like a serial killer at the back of his property.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he storms off into the bathroom, looking around for something, not finding whatever it is, and coming back out to the room. Closing his eyes and inhaling slowly, my eyes snag on his chest expanding the Glendale logo inthe center of his shirt. Such a sculpted physique hidden behind a thin piece of fabric.
A trembling exhale leaves him as he opens his eyes. In an instant, I see rage wash away as his gaze lands on me. “Are you gonna go?”
Gnawing on my bottom lip, I hesitate to respond. Am I going to go? What would it mean? Why would I even want to?
“You know what”—he grabs his wallet and room key from the bedside table—“you don’t have to tell me. It’s fine.”
“Mal—”
“Just…” He steps toward me, gripping my shoulders with a firm gentleness only he could provide. “Be careful, okay?” His eyes search mine, solemn and serious, with small specks of silver sparkling within the crystal blue. A heavy feeling settles in my gut when I realize what that look is.Fear.
I don’t have a chance to ask what he’s afraid of before he rushes out the door without another word.
Chapter fifteen
Malcolm
Just tackle him.
It takes me less than a minute to decide what I’m going to do—tackle Eric Sanders, right here in the middle of this game. My pads feel heavier than they usually do, and my helmet is constrictive, but I focus. As if in slow motion, we head to the ten-yard line, only four seconds left, ball in our possession. I don’t have to tackle him. It would be redundant at this point in the play and would probably look too obvious. But this is my only chance.
I get into position and feel the rough turf against my fingers as I steady myself. Sweat stings my eyes as I scan the defensive line in front of me, eyes landing on my target. A rush of heat builds up under my sternum, pulsing down to my hands and feet as we wait for the snap.
Everyone is in position, and my foot twitches in anticipation.
A whistle sounds, blasting my eardrum into the back of my head.
I’m catapulted out of my daydream and back to reality, where Coach Daniels stands next to me, the students making theirway onto the practice field. I snatch the whistle out of Daniels’ hand and make my way to center field. With him on my heels, I take a deep breath and try to let the disappointment from my unfinished daydream fizzle away.
Eric is here. Of course he is. And of course he wants to see Kate. Apparently, every romantically available coach wants to see Kate, based on the cringey small talk I had to endure with Daniels earlier.
“Is she seeing anyone? You think she’d be up for getting dinner?” he asked me like I was her relationship bouncer, as if I held the control over her romantic life. Trust me, Daniels, if I had the control, I wouldn’t be here running this scrimmage right now. I’d be with her. Alone.
“Alright, everyone, huddle up!” A sea of padded-up students follows us out to the fifty-yard line, splitting up into their respective teams. “We’ll start with basic formation drills, green and red going first. Blue team, start on special skills and tackles.”
The teams separate, getting into position, with Daniels stepping to the red team side, and I stay with the green. The afternoon goes by in a blur as we run through play after play.
“Coach?” Devon is slouched over on all fours, heaving breaths in between his words. “You tryna kill us?” He attempts a smile, but it quickly fades as he winces and rolls onto his back.
A few other Glendale students follow suit, buckling to their knees and hitting the ground one by one. Students from other schools take note of this, assuming it as permission to collapse onto the turf for a break, and join them. Their faces are a mix of pain and despair as they look at me expectantly. A part of me wants to revel in it, the feeling of bringing them to a breaking point swelling me with pride. But I shake it, reminding myself they’re just kids, and this isn’t boot camp. Just football.
“Alright, alright.” Sweat builds underneath my hat, and my neck stings from the sun, reminding me how long we’ve been outhere. “Let’s call it a day!” My voice carries across the field as I wave my hands at them, submitting to their pleas.
“Don’t forget dinner tonight! It’s luau themed!” Daniels calls out to them as they trickle their way to the locker rooms. He’s reviewing the camp schedule on his phone as we follow behind.
“Thanks for your help this afternoon.” I rake the sweat through my hair.
“No, thank you. I’ve already learned so much. Your coaching style is really something to be admired, Geer.”
I wince at the compliment and mumble, “Thanks.” Daniels is a nice guy, and it would really suck to have to hate him because he has a crush on the woman of my dreams. I might be having a heat stroke, but I feel a sudden urge to be honest with this guy I’ve known for less than twenty-four hours. “Listen…” I pause as we stand outside the locker room door. “About Ms. Stanley… I know you’re interested in her, but she—”
“Don’t worry about it, man.” Holding his hand up, he says, “I didn’t realize you were into her, or I wouldn’t have even asked.”
“I’m not—”
