13. Cole
CHAPTER 13
COLE
The polished maple floors squeak underneath my shoes as I run down the court, ball bouncing in front of me. Practice doesn’t start for a few more weeks, but my teammate Shawn, a sophomore, asked if I was willing to do some one-on-one work for him. He’s a good guy, hard worker, and genuinely wants to play his best. He’s willing to put in the work. Last year, he confessed to me that he has a son—a four-year-old—when he got his high school girlfriend pregnant. They’re not together anymore, but he said it ended on good terms and he wants to do right by his kid. I admire that about him.
Shawn snags the ball from me and I laugh, chasing him back down the court.
This feels good, like the old times when I was small, and this was just a game. Now it’s so much more, the pressure bearing down on my shoulders. But the love and passion are still there. It hasn’t waned, even when doubt nags in the back of my mind.
“What are you two doing?” Coach’s voice booms across the court from the door that leads down the hall to his office. “Practice hasn’t even started yet.”
Shawn halts with the ball, tucking it under his arm.
Lifting the edge of my shirt, I use it to wipe my damp brow. “Just having some fun, Coach.”
He shakes his head, hands on his hips. “Well, since you’re here I need a word with you, Anderson.”
I jerk my head in a nod. “See you later,” I say to Shawn, heading off the court after Coach.
Coach Reynolds. He’s about the same height as me, with dark skin and buzzed hair. He can be a hard ass, he expects a lot out of us since he was in the NBA a few years himself, but he’s always there for anyone on the team. He pushes us hard, but he’s compassionate. Can’t say the same for the coach I had in high school. He was a prick.
Coach opens his office door and lets me in first, coming in behind me. Sitting down in front of the desk, I smile at the pictures behind it of his wife and children. They recently had a baby girl. Shortly after she was born, they brought her to a practice to meet the guys on the team, and I’ll admit while we’re all a bunch of big tough guys, we go soft for a baby. We were passing her around, trying to see who could make her smile and laugh the most. There’s another photo, one of him much younger holding a little girl on his shoulders as she dunks a ball into a net. I haven’t noticed it before, but I’m really not in his office all that often.
He plops down into his chair, crossing his fingers together in front of him.
“I’m actually glad I caught you today. I was going to call you, but this is better. I know you’re waiting until you graduate to enter the draft, which I totally respect. It’s commendable. I know you could’ve gotten picked up easily last year with Andrew.”
“Thank you, Coach. I appreciate that.”
Andrew, a tall—fuck, we’re all giants playing basketball—blond guy with hair to his shoulders did not look anything like your typical basketball player, more like he should be on the runway. Some opponents took to calling him Supermodel but the easygoing guy never let it get to him. But he’s the most talented player I’ve ever shared a court with. Far ahead of me and I know I’m good. There are very few players with as much raw talent as he has. The fact Coach has me ranked with Andrew in his eyes means a whole fucking lot.
He dismisses my thanks with a wave of his fingers.
“Anyway, I was talking with one of my old friends. You might’ve heard of him. Jason Caswell.” He waits, letting the name sink in.
“He used to play for Atlanta, right?”
“Yeah.” He smiles, pleased that I know. “He’s a scout for them now and he wants to meet you.”
“Meet me?” My voice squeaks embarrassingly.
“Yes.” He shuffles some papers on his desk. “He wants to meet for lunch when he’s in town in December. I wanted to let you know so you have time to prepare. Don’t overthink it. It’s just a casual getting to know you, feeling you out to see how you might fit with the team.”
In other words, don’t get my hopes up that anything will come from this.
“Thank you, Coach.” I know he must’ve put a good word in for me.
He shakes his head. “Stop thanking me. You’re talented and a hard worker. Own your accomplishments. You work hard for them.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to thank him again, but I manage to bite back the words. “I appreciate this so much,” I go with instead, which is basically the same thing.
Coach eyes me, suppressing a chuckle. “I’ll call you with the details when I have them. Now get out of here, you smell.”
I laugh. “See you next week then.”
“Mhmm,” he hums, but he’s already no longer paying attention to me. Instead, he’s looking at the photo I noticed, a sad and contemplative expression on his face.
Leaving his office, I head to the locker room and grab my stuff changing back into my jeans and cotton t-shirt with the school’s mascot—a wolf—on it.
Shrugging my backpack over my shoulders, I stride out of the athletic building, heading for the café to grab a coffee before I go home. My steps feel light, buoyant from the excitement of my prospective meeting with Jason Caswell. It’s a step in the right direction.
My phone rings and I smile before I even answer. “Mom, what’s up?”
“You haven’t called me in a week, Cole. A week . Is this how I raised you? I don’t think so. Your sisters remember to call me. But not you. Not my baby boy. My one boy. Have you forgotten where you came from? The seventy-two hours of back labor I endured to push your ten-pound chunky ass out?”
Laughter bursts out of me. “Laying the guilt trip on thick, aren’t we? I’ve been busy with classes, Ma.”
“And you couldn’t spare five minutes to call your mother?” she harrumphs. “I see how it is. I’ll remember this.”
“Ah, don’t be like that.” Even if she has a point. “I’m sorry. I’ll be better.”
“That’s right, you will, or else I’ll get myself on a plane and come down there.”
Fuck, I know she will too. She did it freshman year when she was worried I wasn’t adjusting to life away from home. Newsflash, I was fine and she’s a worrywart. But she’s still my mom and I love her.
“Sorry,” I say again. “I’ll call you every day from now on.”
“God, no. Not every day. I don’t like my kids that much.” She laughs on the other end like she’s told the funniest joke ever. “Have you spoken to Jessa?” she asks, referring to my youngest sister. Before I can answer, she goes on, “Daniel proposed.” I swear, I hear her swoon through the phone. “It was so romantic. He had your father and me hide, along with his parents, so we got to watch it and take pictures with them after. I cried so much. When are you going to find a girl to settle down with?”
I sigh, dropping onto a bench beneath the shade of a tree across from the café.
“I don’t know, Mom.” I rub the back of my head, my mind going unbidden to Zoey.
I know what I went through last year pining for a girl. I don’t want the same thing to happen this year. Especially when time and again Zoey pushes me away the minute things get hot between us. The other night after Harvey’s I went to sleep and dreamt of a different scenario than the one that happened. We kept dancing, and she didn’t freak out on me, and when the moment was right I finally kissed her. She’d kiss me back like she was starved for me and we made out in the middle of the bar like two horny teenagers. When we got back home, I carried her to my bed—I had an actual bed in my dream, not just a mattress on the floor—and made love to her. I woke up right after with a raging hard on and jumped in the shower before she got up, taking care of business.
“Are you even listening to me?” My mom’s voice snaps me back to reality.
“Sorry. Zoned out.”
She grumbles some unintelligible under her breath. “You never call me and now you’re ignoring me while on the phone with me? The disrespect. And from my favorite son, no less.”
“I’m your only son.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She inhales a breath that rattles through the phone. “You are at least coming home for Thanksgiving, aren’t you?”
“Ma, that’s practically two months from now.”
“It’s never too early to start planning and if you’re not coming, I’m giving away your seat. And I’m never making you that French silk pie you love ever again.”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“I would never.”
I laugh, leaning against the back of the bench. “You know I’ll be there. When have I missed a Thanksgiving?”
“Never.”
“Exactly. Now don’t threaten me with French silk pie ever again. That’s just evil.”
She giggles. “All right, I’ll let you go. Your dad just pulled in the driveway.”
“Tell him hi for me and that I love him.”
“I will.”
She hangs up and I tuck my phone away, walking across to the coffee shop. I get in line and place my order. When it’s in my hand, I turn to leave but a waving hand catches my eye.
When I see it’s Rory I expect to feel something—hurt, sad, irritated, but I don’t feel anything and that says everything.
“Hey, how are you doing?” I walk over and pull out the chair across from her. “Where’s Mascen?”
“He’s in class.” She smiles, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I didn’t know you could sing. You were amazing the other night.”
“Thanks. I don’t usually perform for a crowd.”
“Really?” She sounds flabbergasted. “You were a natural up there. You didn’t look nervous at all.”
I shrug off her words. “I didn’t say I was scared to perform, just that I don’t usually, and that was way less people than those who watch in the seats at a basketball game.”
“You really have a beautiful voice. I was impressed.”
“Is that all you called me over for?” I arch a brow.
She laughs, crossing her arms over the table. “Am I that obvious? I just wanted to ask you for Zoey’s number. I … I got the impression the other night that she doesn’t have a lot of friends here, and maybe she doesn’t want them, but I don’t know what I’d do without Li and Kenna so I thought maybe I’d invite her to a girls night this week? Do you think she’d like that?”
“I don’t know. But you can ask her. I’ll give you her number.”
“Cool.” She beams as I rattle off the digits. Suddenly, her demeanor changes. She grows nervous, slipping her glasses up her nose and fiddling with her hands. “Are you okay?”
I know what she’s really asking. “I’m over you, Rory. We were never a couple and let’s be real, we probably would’ve never gotten to that point. We … we didn’t have that spark you need to have to make it work. That’s you and Mascen. If I’m being honest with you, what hurt the most was knowing Mascen wasn’t truthful with me. He’s my best friend, so that fucking sucked. But I’m over it. And I’m not sorry for moving out either, you two deserve to have your space.”
She laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m glad, Cole. You’re a nice guy.”
“That’s what everyone tells me,” I sigh, picking up my coffee. At times it feels like being told you’re a nice guy is a backhanded compliment. Like you’re nice but a lot of times not good enough. “I’ll see you around.”
She smiles, pulling a textbook over to her side. “Thanks, Cole.”
With a jerk of my head, I acknowledge her words and head out and to the parking lot. I’m done with classes for the day and I have to get to work.