28 - Elizabeth
Elizabeth
The ballroom of Havenport’s alumni center glowed under warm chandelier light, and every polished surface reflected the soft gold of the evening.
Round tables dressed in crisp white linen filled the room, each decorated with navy centerpieces and small Havenport flags.
The university crest hung proudly on banners along the walls, and a small stage with a microphone stood near the front.
I paused just outside the doorway and allowed myself to take a moment to soak it all in because I had to admit that this was the type of event I secretly loved.
The cheer squad had traded our uniforms for sparkling dresses and heels, and the football players had been squeezed into suits and ties. It was absolutely adorable.
The room buzzed with the conversations taking place among smaller groups.
Alumni, donors, faculty, and students, we all had a place.
I grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the countless servers that moved gracefully between the tables, carrying massive trays filled with drinks and small appetizers.
As the scent of expensive food drifted through the air, Jenna leaned toward me, eyes lingering on the dessert table with a great sense of appreciation.
“Okay,” she said, licking her lips. “I’m not saying football fundraisers are my favorite thing…”
I glanced at her. “But?”
“But if this is the level of catering we’re talking about,” Jenna continued, nodding toward a tray of chocolate mousse cups. “I’m willing to support the team’s future.”
I laughed under my breath, but my attention was quickly pulled away from her.
Across the room, the Highlanders gathered near the stage.
Most of them looked uncomfortable and awkward in their suits, but they still tried their best to pull off the look.
They were failing. Malik had already loosened his tie, and Dylan looked like he was going to trip over his own dress shoes.
And Ethan. My gaze lingered on him for a moment too long.
He stood with his hands loosely clasped in front of him.
He held his shoulders straight, showing off how well his dark suit hugged his frame.
I could see the way he braced himself, though.
It looked like he was waiting for something to happen, even at an event like this.
Mr. Pine stepped up to the microphone and tapped it twice. It was all that was needed to get the crowd to quiet down.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said smoothly. “Thank you all for joining us tonight to support the Havenport athletes.”
Polite applause filled the room.
“We’re gathered here tonight not just to celebrate our proud traditions,” Pine continued. “But also to invest in the future of Havenport’s football team.”
He gestured toward the guys, and their responses were unexpected. Ethan refused to acknowledge Mr. Pine. Malik swallowed awkwardly, and Lucas bowed as if he had just been crowned king of the world.
“These guys… Our Highlanders represent the next phase of this program.”
The team shifted slightly as dozens of the alumni turned to look at them.
“They’re young,” Mr. Pine said. “They’re developing, and while the season hasn’t unfolded quite the way we hoped…”
A few chuckles ripped through the room, but most people missed the way Mr. Pine pinned Coach Harris with his gaze.
“... I can promise you that these young men have the heart and determination to take this program where it belongs.”
This time the applause was curious, measured even.
I clapped along, but I could feel the lukewarm response like it was a small stone in my chest. When the dinner began and the crowd started mingling, the room filled with clusters of conversations.
The alumni drifted toward the players. Some were offering encouragement while others were clearly evaluating them behind thin smiles.
It was suffocating, so Jenna and I slipped out to the balcony to get some breathing room. The night air was much cooler, and it carried the scent of fallen leaves and damp grass. I had just taken a sip of sparkling water when a voice nearby caught my attention.
“Coach Harris!”
I turned slightly and saw a tall, older man in a charcoal suit facing Harris near one of the balcony pillars. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his smile was polite but unmistakably sharp.
“I’ve been hoping to meet you,” he said, extending a hand. “Daniel Crawford. Class of ‘82.”
Harris nodded politely but didn’t shake his hand.
“It’s good to meet you.”
Crawford took a slow sip of his drink, keeping eye contact the entire time. “I’ve been following the season.” He paused for emphasis, but Harris didn’t respond. “You guys got off to an interesting start.”
Jenna and I exchanged concerned glances. That was a very strange way to refer to their losing streak. Again, Harris didn’t respond. Crawford tilted his head slightly, seemingly amused by the situation.
“You know, I heard something curious the other day,” he continued. “That before this… you were actually a basketball coach.”
“Yes,” Harris said calmly.
Crawford laughed sarcastically. “And here you are leading a football team.”
And there it was. My shoulders tensed, but amazingly Harris stayed composed.
“The university needed someone who was willing to step in.”
Crawford’s smile widened slightly.
“Step in… Yes. But I imagine football alumni might feel more comfortable knowing the program is led by someone… experienced in the sport.”
Harris’s gaze sharpened ever so slightly.
“These boys need leadership,” Harris grated. “Not resumes.”
Crawford chuckled. “With all due respect, Coach, results matter.”
“Of course they do.” Harris rolled his eyes.
“And so far your results haven’t been impressive,” Crawford said matter-of-factly.
Harris was seething; I could see it in his eyes and the way his fist clenched behind his back, but he didn’t take the bait.
“This team is young,” he said. “We’re building something from scratch, and that takes time.”
“Time,” Crawford repeated thoughtfully. “You’ll forgive the donors if they wonder how much of it they should invest.”
My grip on my glass tightened, but Harris’s voice remained steady.
“I’ve coached long enough to know that progress doesn’t always show up on the scoreboard first.”
Crawford studied him curiously, but he didn’t give his thought process away. “And you’re confident these boys will eventually prove that?”
Harris didn’t hesitate at all. He spat out his response immediately. “I’m confident they’re worth fighting for.”
His words landed with quiet conviction, and Crawford considered that for a moment before giving a small nod.
“Well,” he said, sounding rather defeated. “I suppose we’ll all be watching.”
As he walked away, Jenna leaned toward me. “Wow. If that wasn’t a polite interrogation, I don’t know what is.”
I nodded slowly. It was exactly like Ethan mentioned the other day, but what stuck with me wasn’t the challenge. It was the way Harris answered. He said that the team was worth fighting for, and I believed him.
I spotted Ethan standing alone at the far end of the balcony and excused myself. I wove through the clusters of guests and finally reached him. He stood at the railing, looking out over the dark campus.
“Hey,” I said softly.
A faint smile flickered across his face. “You clean up nicely.”
“You’re not exactly suffering in that suit either.” I nudged his arm lightly.
For a moment we stood together quietly, with the muffled noise of the fundraiser spilling through the doors between us.
Then I took a chance and told him about the discussion I had overheard.
About the questions and the way Harris answered them.
I expected him to feel encouraged, like I was, but instead he gave me a short, humorless laugh.
“Of course he did.”
I blinked, confused by his response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that he knows what the donors want to hear, and he’s playing into their hands.”
I understood where he was coming from with that comment, but I knew he was wrong. What I saw wasn’t an act. It was a man who kept smiling while he was being insulted.
“That didn’t sound fake,” I protested. “He seemed very serious.”
Ethan shook his head. “You didn’t hear what he told Pine.”
“Then why don’t you tell me.”
Ethan took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, and rested his elbows on the railing. I could see that this was hard for him, so I just waited until he was ready.
“At the pep rally, Pine was chewing him out about the record, alumni pressure and donations.”
He took a deep breath, and I put my hand on his, listening carefully.
“What was Harris’s response?”
“He told Pine that he never wanted this team in the first place.”
I frowned. The man I just heard speaking didn’t sound like the same guy he was describing. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“But it’s still a fact. Coach doesn’t want this team. He doesn’t believe in us, and if he doesn’t give up on us now, he’s going to lose his job.”
“Just look at the way he’s working you guys up in practice—”
“He has no choice!”
I wanted to understand what he was saying, but I just couldn’t believe it. Harris wouldn’t do all he has done for no reason. There had to be more to it.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. This isn’t about commitment. I’ve seen him with you guys. No one can fake that kind of commitment.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened and his eyes darkened. “So where do you think I got this? Do you think I’m just making it up?”
I stepped closer, not knowing what to say. “Maybe it was just a misunderstanding?”
“It wasn’t a mistake. I stood there listening to everything. He said it loud and clear.”
“Then why did he act this way tonight?”
Ethan straightened himself out and pulled at his suit. He was clearly angry with my response, but I had hoped there was still a chance for me to talk some sense into him.
“Because that’s what coaches do in front of donors.” He took a few steps back. “And if you’d rather believe that over me, there’s no reason for us to continue this discussion.”
“That’s not fair,” I murmured.
“It feels pretty fair from where I’m standing.”
“I’m just trying to understand.”
“No, you’re trying to explain it away. I did the same, but after hearing what I heard, I can’t do that, as painful as it might be.”
I wanted to believe him. I really did, but it didn’t match what I had seen. And I wasn’t there to hear the words that upset him this much. I didn’t know what to do or where I stood with him, but neither of us could take this at face value.
“Just forget it,” he said, turning away.
“Ethan—”
“I’m done trying to convince people of things they don’t want to hear.”
His tone was bitter, and that startled me. He had never spoken to me in such a way, and it crushed me. I reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled away, which hurt even more.
“You chose Harris over me. We have nothing more to say to each other.”
“I’m not—”
His expression hardened as he adjusted his jacket.
“Enjoy the rest of your fundraiser,” he said before storming off.