Chapter 10
DANNY
I’m drying my hair with a towel when Andy bumps his shoulder with mine.
“You were on fire today, bro.”
“Thanks. It was a good day.”
“Keep it up and nothing will stop us this season.”
“That’s the plan.” I grin.
“Did you find someone to take you shopping today?”
I grimace, not keen on telling Andy who is giving me a ride.
“Ah, man. You didn’t?” he asks. “You know I’d lend you my car if I didn’t have to take Lorenzo to the dentist.”
I shake my head. “I know. Don’t worry though. I found someone.”
“Oh yeah? Who?”
“Sadie,” I mumble, purposely avoiding making eye contact.
“Come again?”
“Why are you surprised, Andy?” Puck butts in. “Danny was spotted having a romantic dinner with her last night.”
I glower at him. “I hardly consider eating at a diner having a romantic dinner.”
“You went out on a date with the hot English chick and didn’t tell me?” Andy’s voice rises.
“For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t a date,” I growl. “A guy and a girl can hang out together without leading to anything sexual.”
“Sure, if they’re related. Even so, sometimes not even blood relation stops that.” He shrugs.
“Ew. Can you please spare us your impure thoughts, infidel?” Puck retorts.
“Bite me, altar boy.”
Puck jumps forward, ready to wrestle Andy into silence, but Andy was prepared and danced out of Puck’s reach. Now that they’re occupied with their stupid antics, I finish getting dressed without interruption and slip out of the locker room before they remember me.
On my way out of the gym building, I text Sadie to let her know I’m ready. She replies saying she’ll be here in a minute, but she’s obviously just around the corner, because I barely have time to slide my phone back in my pocket before I see her car approach.
She stops right in front of me. When I open the car door, loud music pours out, a pop beat I don’t recognize.
“What are you listening to?” I ask by way of greeting.
“Oh, Boyzone.”
“Boyzone? What is it, some new boy band?”
She laughs. “No. They’re old school. Like popular in the ’90s and early 2000s. My friend Anika put together a playlist on Spotify that includes only the top British songs from the last decades. She demanded I listen to it regularly so I don’t forget home.”
“I don’t know if that’s nice of her or if she’s trying to torture you a bit.”
She laughs. “Probably both.”
“What’s this jewel of the UK charts called, anyway?”
“‘Picture of You.’ Come on. It’s not that bad.”
“It’d probably be more tolerable if it was a smidge less deafening.”
“Okay, okay.”
She lowers the volume until we can actually carry on a conversation without having to resort to shouting.
“Thank you.”
“Where are we going?” She puts the car in drive again.
“Ikea. I’ll give you directions.”
“Seriously? You’re making me suffer through an Ikea shopping experience?”
“Come on. I thought girls loved buying shit for their dorms.”
She shakes her head. “Not this girl. But it could have been worse.”
“Oh yeah? What would you consider worse?”
“Going to a home improvement shop.”
I chuckle. “You’re lucky. Not today.”
The cheesy song ends, and it’s followed by another oldie. This one, at least, I’ve heard before, but I can’t name the band or song.
After a while, I ask, “How was practice?”
“It could have gone better. I woke later than I planned and didn’t have a chance to go for a run beforehand.”
“You’re hard-core dedicated to soccer, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. I want to go pro.”
“Me too.”
She pulls her eyes from the road for a second. “You’re that good?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I’m not surprised you’re a good player, although I haven’t seen you play yet. I just thought getting drafted to play in the NFL was as hard as winning the lottery.”
She’s not saying anything I don’t know, but the reminder makes me less confident that it’s an achievable goal.
“Coach Clarkson seems to believe I have a chance,” I reply meekly.
“If he said that, then it must be true.” Gone is the levity from a second ago, her voice suddenly cold and tight.
“He could be wrong though. But I’ll give my all to make it happen.”
“He’s never wrong, at least not when it comes to football.”
I frown. “How do you know that about my coach? Do you know him?”
“Bloody hell,” she mutters and then falls silent.
“Sadie?”
She lets out an audible sigh, her shoulders sagging forward. “Okay, I didn’t want anyone to know this, but, uh, your coach is my dad.”
I stare at her without blinking, frozen as I process her words. “Coach Clarkson is your father?”
“Yep.”
“I knew he was divorced, but that’s about it.”
She lets out a humorless laugh. “I’m not surprised. Why would he talk about the children he so easily gave up?”
I open and shut my mouth, but no word comes forth. I’ve always seen Coach Clarkson as a father figure. I can’t reconcile that with the image of a man who walked out on his family.
“Are you saying he abandoned you and your mom?”
“No. My parents got a divorce, and then he let my mother take us to England.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision to make. He was probably trying to avoid a custody battle.”
Sadie’s nostrils flare, and she’s holding the steering wheel so tight now that her knuckles are white.
“And that’s the reason I didn’t want to tell anyone Coach Clarkson is my dad. I know his players idolize him.”
“I’m sorry, Sadie. I clearly know a different man than you do.”
“Yeah, clearly. Can we please not talk about him?”
“Of course.” I look out the window, feeling conflicted about this revelation for more reasons than one.
It was already bad enough that I was letting Sadie reel me in.
Now that I know she’s Coach Clarkson’s daughter, she’s not only a terrible idea, but she’s completely off-limits.
I can’t even dream about getting involved with the coach’s daughter, especially knowing their relationship is rocky.
I won’t jeopardize my rapport with him, or my future, because of a girl, no matter how alluring I find her.
“What exactly do you need to buy at Ikea?” she asks after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.
“Bookshelves.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah. Mom is a bookworm, and she has a bad habit of hoarding novels she’s already read. She had an old bookshelf that finally collapsed, and now all her books are scattered around her small apartment. She’s been nagging me to buy her a new one for weeks.”
“Couldn’t she have waited a few more days until you got your car back?”
“Probably, but I know training will only get harder as the preseason progresses. I might as well go now before Coach trains us within an inch of our lives.”
She falls silent again, and I realize I shouldn’t have brought up her dad.
“And that’s the last time I’ll mention him. Promise.”
She laughs. “God, you can mention him to me. He’s your coach, after all, and a big part of your life. If we’re going to be friends, I don’t expect you to edit him out of conversation.”
My stupid heart latches onto the “friends” bit of her speech and rejoices. Damn stupid muscle.
“So that’s where this is going? Friendship?”
“Am I not driving you to bloody Ikea?” She glances at me, sporting a smirk.
“Sure, but I thought you were doing this to ease your guilty conscience.”
“Nah. I’m only doing it because I like you.”
“You like me?” I try not to sound too eager and fail.
“Down, boy. I like you as a friend. Don’t get any ideas.”
I scoff to hide my humiliation and disappointment. Friend zoned. I can’t say it doesn’t hurt.
“You think too much of yourself. I have zero interest in dating you. It’s nothing personal. I just can’t get distracted.”
“We’re on the same page, then. Besides, you’re not my type.”
“Ouch. Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you?”
She winces. “Sorry. I did warn you I was savage. My tongue is a lethal weapon.”
Hell. She had to go and mention her tongue. Now I’m thinking what kissing her would feel like. I bet she tastes sweet and dangerous. It’s almost as if after I learned she’s forbidden fruit and she doesn’t want me, she became even more irresistible.
I have to stop this stupid shit. If I were any smarter, I’d say forget being friends. But I’m not, and if all I can get is Sadie’s friendship, it’s better than nothing.