“Quit reading my mind.”
“Never.” He smiles.
The group of hula dancers make their way to the center of the party, going through their routine effortlessly. The party erupts in applause as they finish and saunter off toward the kitchen. Hoots and hollers follow as the staff carries out a limbo stick, corralling groups of people to start the line. Garrett and Claire are the first from our table to join.
We laugh at the many failed attempts by coaches to break their backs then applaud at the ease of the athletes as the stick lowers inch by inch. An array of colors flows like a chain of dominos as each person makes it closer and closer to the ground. I chuckleas we’re waved at by Jess and Chloe. The ludicrous idea of either of us partaking in such an activity is downright hilarious. I decline the chance to embarrass myself in front of everyone—until Malcolm’s thick hand is taking mine and dragging me toward the line.
“What are you doing?” I squeal, giggling when he mimes the technique he plans to use. “You’re going to ruin your back.” I can’t help but laugh at the determination in his eyes as we approach the front of the line. He waves me forward, like the gentleman he is, and I bend backward with ease, barely missing the bottom of the pole with my hair, which is starting to frizz at the edges from the sticky humidity.
“He’s going to kill himself,” Garrett laughs as he joins me to watch Malcolm attempt to conquer this gauntlet.
Malcolm stretches side to side, twisting at the waist and rolling his neck. He squats a few times, pausing for a moment to evaluate the height, then straightens and stretches his hips and legs, for good measure. I cover my mouth to hide the smile stinging my cheeks at the scene—this beast of a man going to battle with a stick. And then, as if the man has turned into the infamousFlubberfrom the 1997 Robin Williams’ movie, he does it. He contorts himself into a shape resembling a beanbag chair and practically glides underneath the stick with ease.
The crowd goes wild, erupting into applause as Malcolm stands up straight, saluting the limbo stick and giving a gracious bow in all directions. He does all of this with the same serious, surly look that has a permanent residence on his face. But a slight twitch of his eyebrow tells me he’s delighted with himself.
The boys high-five him and each other as their coach proves, yet again, he is full of surprises.
“That was impressive.” The joy I felt watching the victory is suddenly gone as my ex appears with a drink in each hand, a wave of awkwardness following him. “I don’t remember himbeing so…” Eric pauses, and I reluctantly look at him, feeling immediately defensive as I wait for him to finish his statement. “Happy.”
I let out a singular laugh. “That’s because you never got to know him.”
“Maybe not.” He takes a sip from his fruity concoction and offers me the other cup, and because my parents didn’t raise me to be rude, I accept. “He’s really made something out of the team, hasn’t he?”
“He really has.” The pride that swells in me manifests itself across my face as I watch Malcolm fight the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Even if he denies it.”
“He always was a humble guy.” Eric’s words are earnest, and for a moment, I’m grateful he’s speaking. It’s nice to agree on something with him when we never could before. “Are you still up for coffee?”
Freaking heck. I almost forgot.
Coffee. With my ex.
Using the cup to shield the nervous gnawing of my lip, I reluctantly agree with a nod.Why, why, why?Why is he so insistent? I don’t want to get coffee with him, do I? I keep my eyes on Malcolm, the pillar of peace in this detrimental storm of emotions I’m feeling. When his eyes meet mine, they go stormy, like what he’s seeing is enough to send him into a rage. Guilt whirls in my gut like acid as he approaches us.
“Coach Geer,” Eric greets him with a genuine smile and an outstretched hand.
“Sanders,” Malcolm’s voice clips out the word. Anyone with a brain cell can gather he doesn’t mean it when he says, “Nice to see you.”
“You’ve still got it in you.” Eric nods at the limbo stick now sticking upright out of the ground like a symbolic victory flag stabbed into the dirt on the battlefield.
Malcolm’s jaw clenches as he forces a smile in response. His eyes are cold and laser-focused on Eric.
Then, Eric leans in closer to me and says, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Eric leaves us, the silence palpable as Malcolm tries not to impose. He’s always been that way, never forcing a conversation with anyone, no matter how bad he wants to. Last year, when Benny knew months in advance that we were hiring Ellie, he didn’t tell Malcolm anything, and Malcolm refused to ask on the sheer principle of “if he wants to tell us, he will.” But that didn’t suppress the fact that the idea of Malcolm working with someone without any prior knowledge of who they were, where they came from, what their reason for taking the job was, drove him bonkers. I had to take him out for a steak dinner just to get him to quit moping around about it.
“You can ask me, you know.” I gnaw on my thumbnail and slosh the fruity drink around in the other hand.
“You don’t have to tell me.” He rakes both of his hands through his hair, and a small piece falls forward, calling attention to itself. He lets out a weak, defeated sigh. “If you don’t want to.”
“We’re just getting coffee. I don’t know why he wants to. I just…couldn’t say no.”
Another singular laugh escapes Malcolm as he throws his head back. The thickness of his neck and bob of his Adam’s apple would be hypnotic if the situation wasn’t what it currently is. Awkward. He shoves his hands in his pockets, irritated, and walks over to the bar. Leaning over to the bartender, he asks for two of something. I watch as he waits for his drinks, moving his weight from one leg to the other, kicking sand off his shoe, raking a hand through his hair again, then proceeding to take one of the extra drink umbrellas and break it.
Is Malcolm throwing a…temper tantrum?
Approaching him like he’s a baby deer, I slide into the barstool next to him. “Are you mad?”
“Yes.” He breaks another umbrella.
