19. Malcolm
I spent years in the desert with only a bar of soap and a three-pronged comb for maintenance. We’d go days without a shower because we were so exhausted that we’d just collapse onto our cots, still fully dressed in our combat uniforms. My beard resembled a tumbleweed most of the time. So, it’s understood that my morning appearance shouldn’t faze me. But when I woke up this morning with my face plastered to the side of the leather sofa, looking like I stuck my fingers in an electrical outlet, it became clear I need to reassess what I let bother me.
Especially with Kate in the same room.
I don’t need her seeing the disheveled version of me. The version that probably whimpered into their pillow all night because they were having nightmares like a child. When I brushed my teeth, I barely recognized myself.
Adding that to the searing pain settling deep into my spine from the couch has now made me unfit to tackle any normal conversation.
“Another?” the waitress asks me.
I grumble a nod as she fills my coffee mug again. She just stands there, staring at me. I try to make it clear that I’m not interested in the polite morning chit-chat and migrate my gaze to the empty tables in the opposite corner of the room. The hotel restaurant is a fraction of the size of their fancy conference room. Dining tables are lined neatly in rows with weird seashell salt and pepper shakers in the center. The room is more outdated than the rest of the hotel, with brown leather seats and geometrical carpet to match, like they didn’t care to update this little corner of the place, letting it live its days out as an eyesore.
This room is comfortable.
And it’s empty, which makes it even better.
Mostly empty, anyway.
The eager waitress looks like she is going to crawl out of her skin if I don’t say something. So, I won’t.
I give her a nod of thanks for topping off my coffee. I don’t have the mental capacity for small talk, especially with a woman who has ogling eyes similar to my students. Don’t get me wrong, she’s attractive. I just can’t humor the idea of chatting it up with a woman that isn’t Kate, even if it is harmless weather conversation.
Especially not when I know Kate is on a coffee date with another guy.
At this very moment probably. I check my watch. Yes, this very moment.
The waitress takes my silence as a hint and finally leaves the table. I can breathe. Pulling my phone out to check today’s camp schedule, I ignore the slew of text check-ins sitting in my inbox from Benny and Ellie. I haven’t updated them on my Kate progress, and I sure as hell haven’t told them about her morning plans. But I know Ellie will combust if I don’t give her something.
As if right on cue, the woman texts me.
Ellie: SHE’S HAVING COFFEE WITH HIM?
Ellie: WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?
I clench my jaw, my teeth screaming in protest under the pressure, as I click my phone off. What am I going to do? She’s a grown woman. I can’t just crash her coffee date.
“Mornin’, Geer,” Daniels interrupts me just as I begin to imagine bumping into Kate at the exact coffee shop she texted me she was going to. “May I?” He nods to the empty seat at my table.
As if my raised eyebrow is answer enough, he takes the seat, coffee in hand. “You ready for the big game tomorrow?”
“It’s a scrimmage,” I correct. Shouldn’t have to. He’s a coach too, but whatever.
The big game.
The final event of camp before we all leave on Friday. Every year, the coaches and athletes split into teams to have one final brawl before we head back home. From what I was told when I first came to camp, it was meant to be a touch game to limit injuries, but over the years, it’s become the biggest scouting event of the week. If the kids can take down some of their college counterparts, they think they’re proving themselves worthy. The last three years have ended with at least one season-ending injury or suspension—or both. Now they have waivers for everyone to sign at the beginning of camp, releasing the football association from any liability, and it’s because of this game, which is really a scrimmage.
I grunt into my coffee mug. I’m less than excited about a potentially brutal game, especially when it almost ended one of my athlete’s careers last year. Garrett Connors has taken an entire year to get back to a place where he feels confident running again, let alone practicing.
“It’s just a pissing contest,” I grumble under my breath.
“Not a morning person, huh?” he asks with a genuine smile on his face, as if he’s actually happy to be awake and sitting across from me, a grumpy bear as some would say. I shrug. Alright, maybe I’m just being a jerk now, but I kind of want to see how far he’ll go with the one-sided conversation.
“Geer just isn’t a person person,” Travis Van says from behind me, making it clear that we are not alone.
“A person person?” Devon, who is also behind me, questions Travis’ quip attempt. “He just doesn’t like people…of any kind.”
I look over my shoulder to see most of my team squishing themselves into a booth—a four-seater busting with six large, hungry teenagers. They’re sitting on top of each other as they try to eat from the heaping piles of food they’ve carried over from the buffet.
“It’s nice to see a team spend so much time together. My guy has only been interested in the girls from other schools or playing his Xbox.” Daniels scoffs, sipping his iced coffee. It has whipped topping with caramel and chocolate drizzle down the inside of the cup. This man really has no shame.
Memories of Brennan and the coffee machine his wife mailed to him when we were on tour plow through my mind. He was always concocting different drinks with way too many flavors in them. Different sauces, sprinkles, and way too much whipped cream on top to make the perfect drink. Some were a hit, and others were better off as tank fuel.
Brennan’s face fades as I focus on Daniels. The similarities between the two are unsettling, and I have to look away to collect myself for a moment.
“Don’t worry. We’re here for the girls too,” Charlie says through a mouthful of food.
The guys all give a variety of responses—whistles, cat-calling, and the like. As ridiculous as they are, I can’t bite back my smile and shrug at Daniels—what’re ya gonna do?
We share a laugh as he finishes off his latte. “So, how’re things on the Stanley front?”
“Dude, put a muzzle on it,” I practically hiss at the man, trying to shut him up, darting my gaze in every direction to make sure no one heard his question.
“What’s up with Coach Stanley?” Garrett, the kid with ultrasonic hearing, pipes in.
If my looks could burn someone to a pile of ash, Daniels would be on the floor being swept up by housekeeping right now. His eyes widen in terror as he whispers, “Shoot, sorry.” He glances over my shoulder and winces. They’re probably burning a hole in the back of my head with their bug eyes right now.
“Nothing, Connors.” I try to roll away the tension crawling up my back and refuse to look at the table behind me. “Eat your food.”
In a blur, chairs tumble, feet scurry, and dishes clank as the guys rush from their table and pile into our table. I refuse to acknowledge what’s about to come, so I pull my cap further down onto my head, shadowing most of them from my site, and stare at the brown ring of coffee grounds at the bottom of my mug.
“What’s up with Stanley?” Charlie asks.
“Is she sick?” Travis asks.
“Nah, she probably got fired,” Ethan adds.
“Dude, shut up. She’ll never get fired,” Devon snaps.
“Is it Coach Sanders?” Garrett whispers to me, but everyone else hears, and the speculation worsens.
“Oh, that’s gotta be it. She was obsessed with him,” Travis says.
“He crushed her, man,” Devon snips. He is like a nephew to Kate and Benny, and I would bet he feels the same way I do about the guy that broke Kate’s heart. He and I had to endure a vegan baking class for a weekend because Benny was out of town. I sure as hell wasn’t going to go alone, so I bribed him with a week of hall passes so he’d go with us. It was equally the most ridiculous and intriguing thing I ever did. Baking. Who would have thought there was so much math that went into vegan cinnamon rolls?
“Will they let it go?” Daniels leans over the table to ask me. The guy can already tell these kids are resilient.
I eye him, making my answer clear. No, they will not.
“Should you just tell them?” he attempts to whisper, but the rest of the table has silenced themselves to listen to us. Just when I was starting to like Daniels, he goes and spouts my business off like he can’t control himself. I make a mental note to try to pay someone off to accidentally stumble into him at the scrimmage tomorrow.
“Dude, just tell us, and we’ll leave you alone,” Ethan pipes in.
“No, you won’t.” I scratch my chin with both hands before interlocking my fingers at the base of my neck, tense pressure spreading down into my shoulders. The impending gossip that’s sure to follow if I reveal what’s going on will get me found out. There’s no way these guys can keep something like this to themselves.
“We won’t tell,” Garrett says like he just read my mind. He’s been really good at reading a room since meeting with Ellie regularly. Damn that woman.
The rest of the table nods in agreement, gesturing their fingers across their lips like a zipper, or holding a finger over their mouth. Silent. They’re trying to promise me they will keep it silent. But I know them, too well, and even when something as small as, ‘I’m buying her a new clock for her classroom,’ was shared, it spread like wildfire.
If I admit my unrequited love for my best friend to this table of goons, I’m basically lighting the match myself.
“Maybe we can help,” Devon offers.
“Yeah, maybe they can,” Daniels adds, as if he knows us all well enough to confidently say yeah, let these hormonally crazed teenagers help you with your love life.
“How about no?” I say flatly.
More whispers and speculation occur.
They’re never going to leave this table. I’m never going to get a moment’s peace. The only chance I have to get out of this conversation is if I make a break for it.
I shove myself out from the table, almost tripping over Travis’s feet in the process. Protests follow me as I grab my room key and mug.
“Hey, guys!” Kate’s voice stuns my senses, a ricocheting ball of fire moving down my throat and into my chest. My shoulders tense, and my gaze whips to Daniels, who has made himself practically invisible as he slides so far down into his chair he blends in with the kids.
“Hey, Coach!” Charlie blurts it out unnaturally and high-pitched. It’s a miracle Kate doesn’t stop dead in her tracks. The table looks visibly uncomfortable, giving small waves.
She eyes them, suspiciously, before turning to me. “Good morning,” she speaks like there is no one else around. Or maybe that’s how I hear it. Sure. Either way, I want nothing more than to wrap her up in my arms and take her upstairs with me.
I give her a nod when she’s beckoned by the group of girls standing in the doorway to the dining room. She waves at them before waving bye to the table. “See you guys this afternoon!”
Her smile is bright and unfaltering when she looks at the guys, and they all look like they’ve seen a ghost, staring wildly at her with mouths forced into creepy smiles and hands still held up in frozen waves. “Okayyyyyyy,” she says, clearly unsure how to take the scene. I can’t blame her. They look like they’re accomplices to a crime. Turning to me, her eyes soften as they move all over me, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she gives me her secret smile. “I’ll see you guys later,” she says again, still watching me. Gripping my forearm with a double squeeze, she lingers there for a solitary moment before retreating down the hall with the girls.
I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and feel my cheeks burn as I stare at the empty space she just left.
“Dayuuuuuuuuuum,” Ethan laughs, drawing my attention to the peanut gallery.
“Geer has the hots for Stanley.” Travis gives a sly smirk, and I immediately regret letting him come to camp.
“Atta boy, Geer!” Charlie claps.
Dread fills my gut as I reluctantly sit back down. They’ll just hunt me down if I try to retreat upstairs.
“Dude, how long has this been going on?” Devon asks. His tone is calm amidst the rowdy whispers moving around the table.
“Does she—”
“No. She doesn”t know,” I interrupt Garrett and moan into my hands. “And I’d like to keep it that way.” They all protest, typical moans and groans threatening to overpower my own thoughts. “At least until I figure out what I’m going to do,” I whisper more to myself than to them.
“Dude, this is sick. First, Mr. Divata and Ms. B. Now, you guys.” Charlie’s excitement is comparable to a child at Christmas, which is expected. The kid is always meddling in people’s love lives. I swear he was the one who sent Margaret flowers to light a fire under Bill’s tail. “What are we gonna do about Sanders?” he asks the group.
“We could slash—”
“No. No committing felonies—in any form.” I run my hand down my face and stare at Ethan, painfully aware of his tendencies. I’m also pretty certain he had something to do with the fire alarm last night. “And you guys need to get to your morning workouts. Quit bothering me.”
A ding from my back pocket draws their attention, eyes darting back and forth expectantly, as if I am going to read my messages to them out loud for a little story time.
Their stares bore into me, and I relent, pulling my phone out to see Kate’s name light up on my phone.
“It’s her,” Devon whispers as he looks over my shoulder.
“Thanks,” I snarl at him and open the message then immediately click my phone off and shove it back into my pocket. “Alright, time to end this.”
“Come on, what’d she say?” Travis whines.
“Let us help.” Daniels finally joins in with the brigade. My disappointment in him to fall under this teenage peer pressure is clear when he gives me an innocent shrug.
A silent beat passes as they all wait patiently. Again, I can just leave anytime I want and go back up to my room, but alas, I sit. “She’s going out with him again,” I say through clenched teeth.
A low, demeaning whistle is shared by a few guys, along with a few winces—winces, yes, because the truth of the situation is painful. Kate is going on a date with her ex, and she just sees me as her friend, yet I continue sitting at this damn table with these kids whispering all around me.
“We need the girls’ help on this,” Charlie says, pulling out his phone.
I abruptly slam my hand down on top of his phone, his childlike hand twitching under mine. “No!” I yell, startling the table out of their scheming. “It will get back to her.”
“They’ll be discreet,” Travis tries to reassure me.
“Nah, Geer is right. We can’t risk it. We gotta handle this on our own,” Devon says, nodding for Charlie to put his phone away. He does so reluctantly. “We all got game. We don’t need their help.”
Ethan and Garrett guffaw at that as Devon gives them a sly smile. The only game these kids have is on the field. I really should be talking to my adult friends about my very adult dating-life situation, but I am still sitting here. I shake my legs to make sure they have feeling in them, readjust in my seat, checking for any new gravitational pull that has overpowered me, and find nothing. Yep, I am sitting here by my own free will.
“So what are we gonna do?” Daniels asks the table. He’s fully invested in this now.
“I got it!” Garrett yells, his excitement is evident as he tries to wipe the smile off his face. Leaning halfway over the table, he lowers his voice to a whisper, and I find myself clenching the edge of my seat. I don’t have time for this. Using plots and schemes to win a girl over has never been my way. But I lean in, waiting for Garrett’s master plan, fear and excitement sticking to my skin like the salty air. The sliver of self-respect I was maintaining after waking up this morning is completely gone by the hands of six rambunctious teenagers when he says…
“We’re gonna crash their date.”