24. Lucas
Chapter twenty-four
Lucas
“ D onato, hit the shower then meet me in my office,” Coach Andres barks at me as soon as I enter the almost empty locker room.
Responding with a nod, my heart starts pounding and my chest feels tight.
I scurry to the locker room hoping a cold shower will help ease my oncoming panic from Coach wanting to see me.
I don’t have a planned meeting with him.
This morning, I planned to meditate before practice to ease my anxiety that’s continued to heighten the closer we get to starting the season.
Droplets of cold water melt away my tension and my heart rate slows. No more slacking on my meditation, I need to get my stress under control. Risking having a panic attack in front of my team is not an option.
I force a calm over my body and will my legs to carry me to Coach’s office, keeping my steps tight and controlled.
“You okay, Donato?” Coach inquires, cocking his head at me. “You’re clenching your fist pretty tightly.”
Dropping my fist, I take a seat in front of his desk. “Yeah, just a little tense,” I mutter before sighing heavily.
“Take care of yourself, kid,” Coach insists. “We’ve got a long season ahead of us, but it’s a bright one.”
Coach shuffles some papers around his desk.
“Ah, found it,” Coach mumbles. "Not everyone has voted, but there are two clear winners from the team.” Coach runs his hand across his mouth. “Maybe two or three runner ups that could be swayed by the remaining votes.”
My eyes meet his, clear that he is waiting for me to respond, but I don’t say a word.
He coughs, breaking the silence. ”Donato, I can't read your damn mind. Are you going to tell me your recommendations or what?”
My voice barely audible, I mutter sorry . Clearing my throat and finding my voice I start, “Keith is the most obvious.”
Coach gestures affirmatively. “He’s got the most votes and is the first choice of everyone on the coaching staff.”
The tension in my shoulders eases, knowing I made at least one right decision.
“The other two,” I start slowly, building back my confidence. “I’m unsure of.”
“Donato." Coach runs his hands slowly down his face. “Either you have the recommendations, or you don’t. You’ve always been so sure of yourself. What’s going on?”
Not wanting to elaborate on my steadily increasing pressure, I blurt out what my gut has been telling me, “Blaine Mitchell.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Coach looks at me appreciatively, smiling. “Blaine’s really stepped up his game.”
“Tyler Barret is the other person I was thinking," I offer.
Coach offers a subtle nod of approval. I clasp my hands together, feeling a deep sense of relief wash over me knowing that Coach Andres and I are on the same wavelength about Blaine.
“What about Ryder King?” Coach asks.
My brows raise in shock; I’ve considered Ryder. He’s bound to be the best player on our team, but he just joined.
“With all due respect, you asked my opinion. My final two recommendations are—” taking a deep breath I finally make the decision “—Keith Hall and Blaine Mitchell.”
”That’s surprisingly what the votes are telling us so far too,” he mutters under his breath .
“Alright.” Coach Andres stands up, offering me his hand to shake. “It’s settled. Keith Hall and Blaine Mitchell are the alternate captains this season.”
As I awkwardly shake Coach’s hand, the dark clouds in my chest that were starting to part are at a standstill the second I get back to my locker.
“Mitchell, are you sure you don’t want to join us,” Silas asks Blaine.
“C’mon, Mitch,” Ryder practically begs. “You’re my best wingman.”
A huff of irritation escapes Tyler and storms away without saying a word. No one seems to notice except me.
With a shake of his head, Blaine denies them.
“Blaine fucking Mitchell, don’t make me get on my knees and beg you,” Ryder tries to convince him.
Blaine lets out a chuckle, tossing his towel into the basket at the end of the bench.
“I can see it in his eyes, dude,” Silas plays along. “He’s not fucking around.”
Ryder starts to bend a knee to kneel before Blaine finally caves.
“Fuck,” Blaine concedes. “I’ll go.” He places his hat backward on his head, his signature style.
“Thank, God.” Ryder clasps his hands together in prayer. “I’m trying to get someone on their knees for me, not the other way around. No offense, Mitch.”
Silas cackles, feeding into Ryder’s ego as a sly grin spreads across Ryder’s face.
From around the corner, Tyler yells, “What do you think you’re fucking doing?”
Ryder looks around puzzled, brows furrowed. “Uh, making plans?”
“I was talking to Mitchell,” Tyler spits each word out like they’re toxic, stepping directly in front of Blaine, fist clenched.
“Huh?” Blaine responds slowly, “I don’t know what you mean, man.”
Tyler snatches Blaine’s hat from his head and flings it down to the ground before aggressively stabbing him in the chest with his finger .
“Don’t fucking hurt Libby,” Tyler warns as he pokes Blaine sharply in the chest again.
Blaine balls his hands into fists at his sides. Instead of launching forward at Tyler, Blaine throws his hands up in defense.
“I’m not doing anything to hurt her,” Blaine speaks up.
In the blink of an eye, Tyler lunges forward, pushing Blaine, who manages to stay upright on his feet.
“I heard you,” Tyler snarls, his face reddening with fury. “Don’t lie.”
Blaine’s knuckles turn white. His arms are stiff, as if he’s holding back the angry storm brewing. I’m positive a fight is going to break out if I don’t intervene. But before I can, Blaine tosses his hands in the air again.
“Just because I agreed to go out, doesn’t mean anything,” Blaine counters.
Ryder rushes to back up Blaine. “Yeah, dude, I practically had to beg him. He said no at first anyway.”
Blaine moves to pick up his hat off the ground where Tyler threw it, but as soon as it touches Blaine’s hair, Tyler whips it off his head again, this time chucking it across the locker room.
“You hurt Libby,” Tyler hisses through clenched teeth, “I fucking hurt you.”
Tyler charges, ready to attack Blaine again, but Blaine swiftly moves out of the way.
“Woah!” Ryder shouts, his voice echoing off the locker room walls
“Barret, my office.” Coach Andres’ voice booms with demand before Tyler can make another move. “Now!”
Tyler snarls at Blaine, clenching his teeth.
Without hesitation, my captain instincts quickly take over, placing myself between Tyler and Blaine. My eyes narrow, giving Tyler an icy death stare while he makes his way into Coach’s office to get reprimanded. His dark brown eyes blaze with fury, no remorse in sight .
Tyler trudges off, cussing under his breath, each stomp louder than the last.
At least I know recommending Blaine over Tyler was the right move.
One solid decision down this season. A million fucking more to go.