“White told me he was considering bringing in someone, but I didn’t realize it would be you.” Nico hung a duffel in his open-faced locker. “I thought you were retired.”
“I thought you were my biggest fan,” Cooper said, reminding Nico of his own words. He retrieved a tablet from his bag and tossed the bag into the empty stall beside him, the nameMatteo Reyesetched into a gold plate. “I’d think you’d be a little happier to see me.”
“I am happy.” Nico forced a teeth-bearing grin and pointed to his mouth with both hands. Pearly white teeth, albeit slightly uneven and jagged. “See?” He dropped the act and tossed his cap into the stall. “I’m always happy to be here, and I just thought you should know that.”
“I stayed up all night reading a dossier on you. Watchedenough interviews to make me tired of your voice already. You said in an interview you hoped you could have my kind of career, albeit in a place better than Ohio. I know everything there is to know about you.”
“I very seriously doubt that,” he scoffed as if it were a challenge and began untying his street shoes. “Where did I go to school?”
Cooper swiped through the tablet and settled on a page of demographics. “Orlando Heights High School. Florida State for a year, and then the coaches at Alabama saw something special in you, so they signed you there. And now you’re here, in my classroom.”
“This isn’t a classroom and I don’t think I need a teacher.”
“Everyone around you says otherwise and after watching tape of your first few games, I’m prone to agree. Not only do you need a teacher, you need an intervention.”
Nico sat on the bench and hooked his gaze upward. Dark brown eyes that bordered the thin line between being a fucking puppy dog and a demon possessed.
“Does it suck?” Nico asked quietly.
“Specify please.”
“Being downgraded from a quarterback on the verge of having the greatest career ever to… this.” Nico shrugged. “Whatever this is.”
“I’d smack you on the side of the head if I wasn’t worried one more concussion would cause permanent damage to what little common sense you have.”
“Was my lack ofthatin the dossier?”
“It’s just obvious.” Cooper sized up the rookie. Dark, shaggy brown hair, bordering on black. Sharp, angular jawthat probably drew as much female attention as it did the attention of men wanting to fight that smart mouth. A black hoodie and red fleece sweatpants with white streaks stained into the fabric. “You have jizz on your sweatpants.”
“Most likely paint, or ice cream,” Nico groaned, hooked his hands into the front of his sweats, and tore them down his legs, exposing a tight pair of black boxer trunks. Thick, muscular thighs. Hairless legs. “Could be milk. Who knows..”
“White said you were sloppy,” Cooper said, taking in the sight of the younger quarterback for a little too long. “Is it your jizz or someone else’s?”
A ridiculous question, and still Cooper waited for entirely too long for an answer.
“It’s obviously mine.” Nico shook a pair of white shorts and slipped into them. “So what’s the game plan today? Going to throw some passes like father and son?”
“You haven’t cleared the concussion protocol, so we won’t be doing anything too strenuous. We are going to start with some light cardio and spend some quality time watching some footage of your many mistakes.”
“How is this supposed to make me a better quarterback?”
“The definition of insanity–”
“Is always doing the same thing expecting different results.” Nico tugged his hoodie over his head, the fabric catching on the polyester undershirt and dragging it upward to reveal a sculpted Adonis belt. “I didn’t completely zone out in school.”
“And yet in your first six games, you have been concussed twice. You’re lucky it wasn’t three times. Youwere saved only by a missed tackle from a team known for missing tackles.”
Nico lifted his shirt and caressed his bare stomach. “So what do you want me to do first, coach?”
Same shit. Different day.
Cooper Callahan stood beside Nico as he logged a moderate pace on the stationary bike.
“How do you spend your free time?” Cooper asked.
“I don’t have free time. I walk, sleep, and eat football.”
“Don’t give me the trained media response you’d give the rest of them. Football is about so much more than the physical demands. It’s about a brotherhood. It’s about the family you make away from the family you come from. Before we settle into the rhythm of you hating me for pushing you and then eventually thanking me, I’d like to get to know the man I’m coaching.”
