Her eyes widen. “Oh God. You’re thinking about asking him.”
“I am not thinking about him,” I lie, much too fast.
She lets out a laugh, clapping her hands and pointing at me. “You’re busted! I said aboutaskinghim. You’re over here daydreaming about Colson Burke.”
“I’m not busted, I'm desperate,” I hiss. “There’s a difference.” I wipe my hands on my leggings. “And I’m not daydreaming about anyone.”
“Desperate enough to ask the six-foot-five smoke show with the permanent scowl?”
I groan. The thing is, Colson could do this in his sleep. If he could act like other humans weren’t a virus he was trying to avoid.
I grab my keys. “I’m not doing this because I want to.”
“Of course not,” Maren says sweetly. “You’re doing it because you have no choice, and also because he’s hot.”
“It’s for the kids,” I insist, trying to convince her, and maybe myself.
“Coach Hot Rage!” she calls after me. “Let me know!”
I’mstandinginfrontof Colson’s front door, about to knock, and this is the moment I question every life decision that brought me here.
My hand hovers and when I finally have the guts to knock, it’s louder than I hoped.
Through the window, I watch him walk toward the door. He swings it open, brows knitted, clearly wondering what the hell I’m doing here.
“Car’s in the garage if you have a bat or something you want to hit it with.” He jokes, but no sign of a smile touches his lips.
I stand with my hands on my hips. “I’m kind of in a bind.”
A few short seconds pass before he says, “Hard pass.”
“You don’t even know what I’m asking.”
“I do,” he retorts. “And it’s a no.”
I inhale. Count to three. Resist the urge to run away and put an end to me asking for anything ever again.
“My assistant coach bailed,” I explain anyway. “I have thirty kids inside and I need a second adult before they burn the place down.”
“No.”
“Come on. One practice. You can even scowl the whole time.”
“I’m not coaching.”
“Because you can’t… or?”
“No.”
Before I can argue, a tiny voice pipes up from behind me.
“Coach Sadie? All the balls are on the rack. Just like you asked.” The kid—little Evan with glasses too big for his face—peers up at Colson like he’s staring at an actual Avenger. Evan’s mom needed to drop him off early so she could get to a meeting, and I always try to accommodate when I can.
Now, did I ask Evan to wander over to interrupt this conversation? No. Am I mad that he did? Also no.
Colson freezes.
Evan blinks. “My brother said you were the best playmaker in the whole league.”
