Chapter 10
Leo
“We barely scraped by in that game. Tonight, you guys have a curfew,” Coach roars out.
We sit in the locker room, sweaty and tired. We won the game, but only by one goal.
“You can go to dinner and then to your hotel rooms by nine,” he states, before leaving us.
We all grumble as we head to the showers.
“Damn, first assigned seats on the bus rides. Then he assigns us roommates for our hotel rooms, and now we have a curfew. Are we high schoolers or pro athletes?” Sean yells.
I can feel the anger rising, but there’s no use giving in. We need to be level-headed, and sometimes being forced into submission by your coach is the way to get there.
We all leave the arena, groveling as the sun sets in the evening sky. There’s a burger joint just around the corner, and as a team, we head there. We order food, eat, and then start walking back to the hotel.
“Hey, who wants ice cream?” Marcus calls out.
Everyone stops walking and gawks at him. “Are you serious?” I ask.
“Look, homemade ice cream,” Marcus says, pointing to a small ice cream shop.
“I guess if we are being treated like kids, we might as well embrace it,” Nash laughs.
I smile at him, but then turn away. We all walk into the small shop, and the teens working behind the counter go nuts.
“Oh shit, it’s the Louisville Stallions,” one boy announces.
“Can we get your autographs?” another guy asks.
We pile into the tiny shop, order our food, sign memorabilia for the kids, and then leave. It would be nice to sit down and enjoy our dessert, but the shop isn’t big enough to accommodate all of us.
As we walk and eat, I look at Nash.
“What flavor did you get?” I ask. Peering into his cup, I only see one pink scoop.
“Strawberry,” Nash answers.
Other guys start sharing their cups, showing stacks of various flavors with multiple toppings.
I scoff. “Who orders plain strawberry ice cream? Don’t you want other flavors or sprinkles, or some shit like that?”
“No,” Nash answers.
“Are you a sadist?” I ask. I show him my cup filled with chocolate, mint chocolate chip, and cookie dough. Colorful sprinkles and gummy worms top it, and gooey caramel sauce drips all around the scoops.
Nash laughs. “No, I like it plain.”
I can’t help but smile at that. Nash is unapologetically himself, and it’s cute. He’s sweet.
Damn, I wish I could stop thinking about him.