Page 44 of The Strike Zone

Maybe Coach was losing it. That would explain his weird behavior. And this weird conversation.

And why he made no sense at all.

Given his parting shot was about not caring what I did, I assumed that meant he didn’t care about what I didn’t do either. Therefore I wasn’t signing that stupid form for no reason.

I was still chewing on it when Ace appeared. “Hey, what was that about?”

I shook my head. “I dunno. Coach is…he’s being so weird about this form thing. I don’t get it. Why does he care about me being friends with Scout?”

Ace shrugged. “Maybe it’s about what happens when you become more than friends.”

“But there’s no guarantee that’s ever going to happen,” I snapped.

As I said it, my chest squeezed tight enough that it was all I could do to rub away the sensation I hadn’t felt in a while; the sadness dragging through me as it dawned on me that there was a strong possibility Scout and I would never be more than friends.

No matter how much I joked around with her, or helped her carry shit, ordered her coffee…anything to get her to notice me, maybe the timing was all wrong.

She had her new job to concentrate on. Not that any of it mattered to Coach.

I shook it off as quickly as it arrived.Focus, Parker. Get your head in the game.

“Hey, you wanna come up to HR with me?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, put it this way. You’re coming up to HR with me.”

“I can’t.” Ace’s head flopped back with a loud groan. “I have to go see the doc. I have the VO2 max test.”

My own groan echoed his. I wasn’t sure who wanted to do their thing less. Him or me. The VO2 max test was gross, and something every player in the roster had on their schedule once a week. But I’d take it over a trip to the sixth floor.

“I’ll swap with you.” I laughed.

“Seriously, dude, why are you going up to HR?”

“Because Coach will ask. He wants me to sign the form.”

“But you’re not dating,” he added unhelpfully.

“I know we’re not. But if Coach asks whether I went up, I can say yes.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his head, followed by ten seconds of silence as we walked down the corridor. “You know, this could be a positive. That everyone has faith you’ll seal the deal.”

“I guess.”

“Well”—Ace slapped me on the back as we stopped by the stairs leading down to where Ace was headed—“good luck. I’ll be done in an hour if I haven’t died.”

“You’ll be fine,” I assured him, though I was also aware death was a distinct possibility. Even occasionally preferable.

Five minutes later I stepped out on the floor where HR sat and stared at the welcome board that split up the floor, detailing where each department was located. It definitely wasn’t as welcoming as Scout’s floor, and there were no cardboard cutouts of Jupiter either.

I’d only ever been up here a couple of times. HR was on the same floor as legal. While I’d never had any need to visit the legal department, the first season Shepherd took ownership, Ace used to drag me up to complain on a near daily basis about how PlayStation hadn’t got his likeness right forThe Show. It was therefore up to legal to do something about it.

It hadn’t been long before he’d been banned from visiting them.

Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure if that ban still stood, or if it was on a season-by-season basis.

What was I even doing up here? This was so dumb.

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