Part 17 (2/2)

”Whatever, and since you're in full girl-mode now, don't cry when I beat you.”

d.i.c.k. I glare. ”Bring it, Reeves.”

He taps his s.h.i.+n when the whistle blows, and we all get into position, waiting for the whistle to blow again for the start of the play. When it comes, I'm at ease and at home as we run the play like it's meant to be run. I've been doing this my whole life; it's automatic to me, and man, I love it. This is where I want to be. This is my life. But then Avery is there, smiling at me in my head, and I have no clue why.

I shouldn't be thinking of her. I should be playing. But instead, I'm thinking of the way her hair felt in my hands and how she nuzzled my neck as she slept. Jesus, that girl could be a big disturbance in my life. She could break me. I know this, but there is no other way of going about this. I have to see where this is heading because I'm pretty sure it's going to be somewhere awesome. Where life is d.a.m.n good. That's what I want. Her words from before come cras.h.i.+ng into me-that we are two different people on two different paths, but I don't care. I think I want to merge our roads, and I feel we can. Usually, when I feel something, I'm right.

h.e.l.l, I'm always right.

When practice is over, I'm exhausted. Stumbling back to the Bullies' house, I crash into bed but only after I set my clock to wake me for Avery's gig tonight. s.h.i.+t, what time was that? Opening a text, I type her name and then text her.

Me: What time do I need to be there?

Avery: My time slot is 8-9.

Me: Cool. I'm gonna catch a nap.

Avery: Jealous, I have to study.

Me: Want me to come keep you company?

Me: I mean, I can sleep beside you. Because I'm napping.

Avery: lol. No, you're a distraction. I'll want to stare at you instead of study.

Me: And write songs about me?

Avery: Pitiful. You're beyond self-absorbed.

Me: Well, you aren't helping with that, writing songs about me and s.h.i.+t.

Avery: Have a nice nap, Jace.

Me: Study hard, Avery.

Grinning, I roll over face first into my pillow, and it doesn't take long until I'm drifting off. But just as I fall asleep, my phone rings.

f.u.c.k me.

Groaning, I peek out to look at my phone and find it's Coach calling me.

Well, h.e.l.l.

Sitting up, confused, I answer.

”Hey, Coach.”

”Sinclair, come over to my house real quick.”

”What?”

”Come over here real quick. I need to ask you something.”

c.r.a.pola. What did I do wrong? Getting out of bed, I say, ”I'm coming.” I hang up and run up the stairs before going out the door, searching my brain for something that Coach would want to talk to me about? Practice was great. The guys are doing well. I feel good, and I waited until everyone was done before I left. So what the h.e.l.l is going on?

Coach's house is right next to ours and isn't that long of a walk, but he's killing my naptime. The door is ajar when I reach it, and I push it open, calling out, ”Coach?”

”Come in here,” he calls from the kitchen, and when I enter, as I've done plenty of times before, he's sitting at the kitchen table.

By himself.

Like a weirdo.

I look at him and he looks at me, and I look away quickly as an eerie silence falls over the room.

He clears his throat. ”So, um, I'm sure you're wondering why I called you over.”

I nod. ”Yeah, I am,”

”Well, let me get to the point. I wanted to ask you if you'd be okay with me dating your mom.”

Scrunching my face up, I finally look at him. He's giving me that hard look, the one that kind of scares me, and I'm unsure if I can be honest here. I'm pretty sure he might try to kill me if I say no. But then, what reason do I have to say no? I think...gag...she likes him and he...gag... likes her. My mom hasn't been happy for a while, and if Coach...gag...can do that, who am I to stop him?

”Does she want to date you?” I ask, holding back the vomit as he holds my gaze.

”She does.”

Gag.

Swallowing the vomit that wants to escape, I shudder. ”I mean, Coach, y'all are adults. You don't have to ask me.”

He nods slowly. ”I respect you, Sinclair. And because of that, I want to ask. I already asked Lucy and your brothers. They are fine with it, but I want to make sure you are too before I proceed in a relations.h.i.+p with her.”

Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. No one could call me?

And good G.o.d, a relations.h.i.+p? Ew.

”Thanks,” I manage to say without puking all over his hardwood floors. ”I appreciate that and, yeah, Coach, you're a good dude. Just please don't hurt her.”

He nods. ”I can promise you I won't. She's a very special lady.”

”She is.” I tuck my hands into my pockets, but he just stares at me. Staring back at him, my eyes widen. ”Yeah, I got nothing. Can I leave?”

Coach chuckles as he nods. ”Yeah, Sinclair. Thanks for coming over.”

”Yeah, and ugh...um, good luck with my, er, mom,” I say awkwardly before hightailing it out of the house. Once the door is shut behind me, I pull out my phone and call Baylor.

<script>