Page 56 of The Coach

Lauren watches me for a long moment, then nods once, decisively. “Alright. We’re telling him after the game. Fate will show us the way.”

My stomach clenches. Because suddenly, that doesn’t feel like a choice anymore.

It feels inevitable.

The game has started, but I’m barely watching.

Because I can’t stop looking at him.

Jackson moves like he was born for this. The sheer command he has over the field, the way he directs his players, the intensity in his stance—it’s mesmerizing. He’s not just coaching; he’s leading.

And I’m completely unraveling.

Lauren nudges me, but I don’t even blink.

"You're staring," she observes.

"Shut up."

She smirks. "Admit it. The man looksgood."

I do not admit it.

Because admitting it means acknowledging that I have to talk to him.

And I’m not ready.

What if he doesn’t want this?

What if he doesn’t want me?

What if I ruin everything?

I grip the edge of my seat, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Lauren… what if I just…don’ttell him?”

Lauren doesn’t hesitate. “ThenI’lltell him. I’ll post up a post on social media and let it go viral. I’ll make a Tik Tok, or...”

I snap my head toward her. “You wouldn’t.”

She arches a brow. “Try me. If it comes to that.”

I inhale sharply, stomach twisting.

There’s no way out of this.

The stadium empties out, the last of the roaring crowd filtering into the streets, their cheers still echoing in the night air. The energy lingers, electric and thrumming through my veins.

I should leave. I should go home.

But I can’t.

He deserves to know.

Lauren, of course, has already mapped out an escape-proof plan. She grips my arm like a woman on a mission, steering me toward the restricted players’ entrance.

“Alright, listen. There’s security, but we’re getting past them.”

I stare at her. “How?”

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