Page 13 of The Coach

“Goodnight, Mandy,” I murmured back, standing up and walking her to my door. I watched her step out into the night, the soft click of her heels ringing like an ellipsis,dot-dot-dot. An unfinished sentence, vague and incomplete. Just like the two of us.

I stood there, alone in the street light, long after the sound of her car disappeared in the distance. As the silence settled around me, a solitary ache rose within, solid and familiar. Resting against the wall, unwanted images flashing through my mind, I felt the unavoidable weight of a question I could still not answer.

9. Tyler

I decided to attend the practice even though I couldn’t train. How could I miss it? Any chance to be in Blake’s presence was precious. Now more than ever. Finn teased me all the way to the gym, going into explicit detail in describing how he would use his free time if he was in my place. I suspect he’d think differently if Sandra held the practice instead of Blake. We all have our priorities. Besides, I had another ulterior motive today. I was a man on a mission.

Finn and I were just approaching the gym when we saw Coach standing at the entrance and talking with Professor Richards. They stood very close—tooclose—grinning like love-struck idiots. She was touching him as she spoke, her hand patting his large hairy forearm in the rhythm of her words. I couldn’t make out whatthey were saying, but I felt anger rising in me like a tsunami.

“Uh-oh,” Finn said beside me, his voice dripping with snide amusement. “Looks like Coach is dipping in something on the side.”

I was too mad to reply. He meant it as a joke, I was sure, but if even someone as clueless as Finn could notice their suspiciously flirty manner, it meant that I wasn’t imagining things. Something was going on there. I’ve never been the jealous type—or so I thought—but now I was hitting Professor Richards with a proper death stare. Blake wasmine! How dare she think she could take him from me, with her curvy figure and long blonde hair?

They finally noticed us as we got closer, and I could now pick out their words.

“Look, I gotta go now,” Blake told her. “I’ll see you later.”

She smiled and trailed her finger across his chest. “You got it, big boy.” Then she twirled away in a mist of sweet perfume.

Wow. So, Blake was a cheater. Our eyes met, and his expression shifted in an instant. His body went rigid, his face serious, frowning. Maybe he was disgusted after yesterday’s accident in the locker room. Or he was simply surprised to see me. I couldn’t tell. But at least he had decency to look somewhat ashamed that we caught him in the act.

“Tyler,” he said, completely ignoring Finn standing next to me. No Davidson; he used my first name. “What are you doing here? You know you can’t train until your leg is fully healed.”

“I thought I should observe,” I said through clenched teeth. “You told me I could.”

He nodded, still frowning. “Right. Go inside, then.”

I looked at Finn and said, “Go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Finn stared at me for a moment, befuddled but not invested enough to care. He made a face and went inside the locker room to change, leaving me alone with Blake. We gazed at each other in silence for several seconds before I spoke.

“Coach?”

“What?”

“I… I was wondering if you could… give me another massage.”

He inhaled, taking a long, deep breath through his nose. My words were innocent, but what was left between the lines was anything but. He studied me with a flicker of surprise, my bold request catching him unprepared. But he’d told me himself to come by if I needed help with the recovery. Guess after yesterday he didn’t think I’d take him up on his offer. And in normal circumstances, he’d be right. But I was desperate, and I needed to know. His eyes narrowed, a hint ofsomething wary, half-hidden. Yet he kept playing his part. “Your leg’s still bothering you?”

“Yeah. It tightens up when I walk or stand too much, gets worse by the end of the day.” I managed a small shrug, though the pain was real. But we both knew it wasn’t only that. He had surely put two and two together by now. Cumming just from him touching me was a dead giveaway. Still, I held his gaze, waiting for his next move.

“All right. See me in my office after practice.” With that, he turned his back to me and went inside the gym. A moment later, I followed him.

It was on.

* * *

The practice went like a thousand times before. Blake barked instructions, and the guys followed, moving around the mats and toppling each other in rehearsed motions. Alex sat next to me, another injured outcast, his eyes locked on our teammates, anguish carved into his face because he couldn’t join them. I still felt guilty about that, but I couldn’t care less for the practice itself. I only waited for it to be over so I could be alone with Blake. Two hours never seemed so long.

At last, Blake blew the whistle and the class was over. Alex and I went with the guys into the locker room and sat on one of the benches while they stripped out of their singlets, discussing the moves and techniquesthat they practiced. It was a bit unusual to be the only clothed two in a sea of naked bodies, my gray sweatpants and blue hoodie out of place, but no one thought anything of it. We were part of the team, and the guys tried to include us despite us not participating in today’s exercises.

When everyone finished showering, I told Finn not to wait up for me. He gave me a curious look, but after I told him my leg still hurt and I needed to ask Coach about it, he left the locker room tagging along with Scott and Jared. One by one, the other guys dressed and left until there was no one else around. I was alone at last.

With tentative steps, I made my way to Blake’s office. I found him hunched over the desk, focused as ever on something he was writing—notes, drills, probably the plans he made to keep each of us on track, perfectly in line. His desk was a strange mess of order: a coffee mug stained at the rim, papers stacked high, the faint smell of pine and leather hanging in the air. For a second, I hovered in the doorway, wondering if this was a mistake, if I should walk away, let him keep that world intact. But my leg throbbed, tension twisting through my hamstring like an over-stretched wire. And I needed to know.

“Coach,” I said, more harshly than I’d meant, the word coming out with a strange edge, like a question.

He looked up at me. “Tyler.” He took a breath, the kind that looked like it was meant to clear the air, to establish some space that wasn’t there. “Come in.”

---