Chapter 4
Nate
The locker room’s louder than usual, with Cam’s music blasting, and a couple of the guys whipping each other with sweat towels like overgrown kids.
Homecoming is tomorrow, and we’re playing against our biggest competition in the state.
“Y’all actin’ like we already won,” I call out, tossing a rolled-up towel at Jamal’s head.
“We are gonna win, Coach,” he fires back. “We’re undefeated!” The boys shout in agreement.
Even after a brutal practice, they’re buzzing. And hell, I can’t blame them. We’re having a damn good season so far.
“Don’t go getting cocky, you’ll forget how to run a clean play.” I scan the room out of habit. It’s chaos, but the good kind.
Well, for the most part.
Jason’s off to the side, watching the door, anxious to get outta here. At some point, he pulls his phone out, glaring at it like it insulted his momma.
Dude’s been like this all week.
On the field, he’s a machine, fast, focused, damn near untouchable.
But off it?
He’s barely there, and always has somewhere to be.
I gotta talk to him before it turns into a problem. ‘Cause no matter how good a kid is, you keep stuff bottled up long enough, eventually it leaks out onto the field.
I dismiss the guys with a few final words of encouragement. They file out still hyped, smacking lockers and cracking jokes, but when Jason tries to slip out with the crowd, still glued to that damn phone, I reach out and catch his shoulder.
“Hang on, Barnett. Need a word.”
He stiffens, tucking his phone into his bag. Kid looks like he got called into Holloway’s office. “Relax, man. You ain’t in trouble. You played real good out there.”
He doesn’t say anything, just stands there with his arms crossed while I lean back against the row of lockers, hands tucked into my pockets. “You’ve been quiet this week.” He shrugs, but I continue. “Hell, you’ve been quiet all season. Everything alright?”
“Everything’s great.”
“You sure?” I press. ‘Cause I’ve been watching. And you’re sharp during practice, but off the field? You look like you got something gnawing at you.”
His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Look, I’m not trying to get all up in your business, but I’ve seen what it looks like when somebody’s carrying too much.”
“I’m good, Coach, really.”
“Alright, man. I’m just looking out for you. I don’t want anything messing with your shot at playing college ball. You’re too good for that,” I tell him, but I know he’s not listening, his eyes still sliding back to the exit.
I watch him go, not feeling any better than before.
I can’t make the kid talk to me, and I know I’m doing everything I can.
I just wish it were enough.
Friday afternoon, before the game, we’re heading out of the school when I spot Iris.
She’s got her arms wrapped around a box of art supplies, damn near the size of her, trying to manage the box and the door leading to the faculty parking lot.
I nod toward the door. “Alex.”
He moves ahead to hold it open, and I step forward to catch the box as it starts to slip from her grip. “Afternoon, Ms. Patel. Let me grab that for you.”
“Oh, thank you, you don’t have to do that.”
“Sure, I do,” I say, giving her what I hope is my most charming smile.
“Well, I appreciate it, Coach Wesley.”
We follow her to a little green car, and I can’t help but notice that it suits her. “Here?” I ask, motioning to the trunk.
She nods, brushing her hair out of her face. “Thank you.”
“It’s no problem, Iris.” I set the box down and shut the truck before I face her again. “You coming to the game tonight? It’s homecoming, so it’ll be a big one. The boys would love the support. And, uh… so would I.”
She hesitates. “I don’t know, crowds aren’t really my thing.”
“Fair,” I nod. “But it’s a good crowd. Lots of noise, bad hot dogs, and the whole town shows up. Kind of a Rosehill tradition.”
“I’m not exactly… traditional.”
“That’s alright. Ain’t why I asked.”
She chews on her bottom lip, looking down, but then, to my surprise, she nods. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask,” I step back from the car. “Have a good evening, Ms. Patel.”
“You too, Coach Wesley.”
And just like that, we’re back to polite titles again.
But I’ll take it. For now.
The buzzer sounds for halftime, the lights illuminating the field under the September sky. We’re up by a touchdown, but the other team’s good. It’ll be tight whichever way it goes.
Even during the break, I’m on the edge of my seat.
I scan the crowd until I spot Alex sitting near the bottom edge of the bleachers, his black clothes blending in with the shadows. I walk over to him and plop down, bumping his shoulder lightly.
“Didn’t think you were coming.”
He shrugs, his eyes trained on the field. “Figured you’d guilt-trip me forever if I missed it.”
“Damn right,” I agree, earning a huff of a laugh.
It almost feels right, like the last couple of months haven’t been off, and I’m not worried sick about the kid.
The stadium goes quiet as the announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, and couples walk onto the field one pair at a time, dressed all fancy with big smiles plastered on their faces.
“Your Homecoming King and Queen, Jason Barnett and Olivia Kent!”
Jason steps forward, in his dirty football uniform, and Olivia, his girlfriend, looks happy as can be as she kisses him on the cheek and waves at the crowd.
Hell, this is the happiest I’ve seen Jason since the season started.
They get their plastic crowns and their sashes, and I’m cheering for them, shouting out along with everybody else.
Beside me, Alex is completely still, fixated on the field.
When I sit back down, he mutters, “Weird seeing him like that.”
“Yeah,” I say, watching Jason. “It is.”
He’s got the girl, the crown, the stadium cheering his name.
I remember when that was me, not too long ago.
“You know her?” I ask, nodding toward Olivia.
Alex snorts. “Not really. She’s nice, I guess. Cheerleader, senior. Kind of dumb.”
“You say that like it’s a crime.”
“It’s not,” he says, giving me his best shit-eating grin, “If it was, you’d have been arrested a long time ago.”
I walked right into that one.
“You know, it’d do you some good to meet a nice girl like that. Help you stay out of trouble, keep you honest,” I tell him, knowing damn well that Alex hates it when I bring up him and dating in the same sentence, but that’s what he gets for calling me dumb.
Jason and Olivia share a kiss before Oliva joins the cheerleaders on the field for their final performance.
“Shut up, dude,” He responds, more defensive than warranted, something clearly getting under his skin, but I don’t think it was me.
I just chuckle and let him be.
Alex doesn’t say another word, shutting down, retreating to his new normal.
“Alright,” I pat his shoulder, standing up. “I’m headed back down. You stay outta trouble.”
He grunts the equivalent of a goodbye.
While I’m shuffling down the steps toward the field, I look back at him, still sitting there, covered by shadows, focused on the crowd like he’s looking for something.
God knows what.
The final whistle blows, with the scoreboard lighting up 34–28.
The Rams stay undefeated.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding while the boys erupt. Helmets flying, pads slapping, whoops echoing under the Friday night lights.
Jason gets hoisted in the air while a few of the guys come for me with a Gatorade cooler, but I shut that down real fast with a single look.
That ain’t freakin’ happening.
I’m shaking hands, getting back claps, answering a million “Coach, did you see that?!” from sweaty teenagers, having the time of my life, so through the crowd of friends and family celebrating on the field, I don’t see her until she’s directly in front of me.
And what a damn good sight it is.
Iris is wearing jeans that flare at the bottom and a Rosehill High tee, not her typical get-up, but still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“You came,” I shout over the noise, smiling like an idiot, but we won. And Iris was watching.
“Thought I should see what all the fuss is about!”
You picked a good one,” I nod toward the scoreboard. “Came close, but we’re still undefeated.”
She smiles, real and bright, and for a second, I forget everything between us. Her rejecting me, the awkwardness.
She came to the game.
That’s gotta mean something.
“You were impressive,” she says, quiet enough that I almost don’t hear her. “The team. You.”
“You think?”
She nods. “I’m glad I came.”
“Me too.”
We’re closer than we’ve ever been when her eyes flick to my mouth. Mine have been on hers for who knows how long.
“Coach! Get over here!” Josh hollers from behind me, pulling us out of whatever that was. I turn my head to look at the team and then back at Iris, who’s much further away than she was a second ago.
“I should probably go make sure they’re behaving.”
She huffs out a laugh, a flush to her cheeks that wasn’t there before. “Of course. Go be Coach Wesley.”
Maybe this ain’t over yet.