Page 18 of The Coach

“Tell me about it.”

We both laughed at that. “Seriously, though,” he said. “I was sure I was going to lose when I saw how hot you were in your tight purple spandex. It was very distracting.”

“Yeah?” I teased him. “Is that why you copped a feel?”

“Hey, I’m a red-blooded dude. Can you blame me?”

We laughed again. It was so easy to talk to him, to joke about the things I would struggle to admit to anyone else, even to Finn. The chemistry was undeniable, a spark that flickered in the space between words and glances. Under different circumstances, I might have leaned into it, let myself enjoy the easy flirtation, the possibility of something simple and fun. Chris was handsome, charming, and there was a warmth to him that felt easy to be around.

But every time I caught myself thinking about it, my thoughts drifted back to Blake—his steady, grounding presence, the way his hands had felt on me in the locker room, the raw intensity in his eyes when he looked at me. There was no denying the pull I felt toward him, the way he’d carved out a space in my heart that I was still reluctant to surrender to another. The heart wants what the heart wants.

Chris must have noticed my distraction because he stepped back, tilting his head at me. “You’re somewhere else, aren’t you?”

I gave him a small smile, shrugging. “It’s been a long week.”

He nodded, his smile softening. “Dude, I’ve seen that look. I’vehadthat look. You’ve got it bad for someone.” Noticing my panicked expression, he chuckled and said, “Relax. Your secrets are safe with me. I only hope that, whoever he may be, he realizes how lucky he is.”

“Thanks,” I said simply, not knowing what else to say.

He seemed to understand, even without me opening up. “Look, how about we exchange numbers, and if you ever want to chat, hit me up. I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. As a friend.”

The offer hung in the air, light but genuine, and I found myself nodding, grateful for his kindness. I didn’t have any gay friends, and I could really use one right about now. Granted, we lived in different states, but beggars can’t be choosers, and Chris seemed like an awesome guy. So I fished my phone out of my pocket and handed it to him. “Sure, I’d love to stay in touch. But for now, I think I need more alcohol in me,” I said, glancing at my empty bottle.

He typed in his number, then looked up at me. “You know what,” he said, giving me my phone back with that mischievous grin. “Beer’s not gonna cut it. Let’s do some real damage.”

Before I could protest, Chris started chanting, “Shots,” and within seconds, the whole group joined in: “Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots!”

What the hell, I thought. Let’s get wasted.

12. Blake

Alone in my room, I paced, restless, my mind running through the events of the day, my stomach tightening with each new thought. Was Tyler with that Chris guy now? Had he gone out for a drink, or something else? Some late-night hookup that would leave him laughing in the way he did when he thought no one was watching? Would they slip out somewhere private, just the two of them, to hang out alone? The thought sat heavily in my chest, a weight that I couldn’t quite shake. The kind of weight that made me want to break something or knock on a door in the middle of the night just to find out if my suspicions were true.

Not for the first time, my gaze wandered to the mini-bar by the bed. I didn’t have to open it to know what layinside: temptation and ruin. A final step in my downfall. But no; I wasn’t that person anymore.

Pacing across the room like a caged tiger, I rubbed my face, the beard scratching my sweaty palms, and went to the bathroom for a quick shower. If nothing else, it might help drown this desperate rage that had coiled inside me ever since the match. I scrubbed my skin until it was red and raw, the warm water growing cold, then wrapped the towel around my waist and hurled myself onto the bed. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. Was I going crazy?

I turned on the TV and started flicking through the channels, searching for something that would distract me. The endless stream of news, reality shows, and old movies didn’t do the trick. Not even the sports channels held my interest. When I landed on a soft-core porno, I paused. Is that what I needed? A quick tug to relieve some of this tension and ease my body into slumber? My hand strayed to my cock, palming it over the towel.Yeah, I sighed, as the chick on the screen unhooked her bra and exposed her rack. She had a glorious pair of tits. But as the camera zoomed on her lower half, still clad in a lacy white thong, the first thing I thought was how flat and small her butt was compared to Tyler’s.

Jesus, I was so far gone.

The knock came just as I’d started to let the thoughts fade, startling me. I leaped up from the bed, secured the towel around my waist, strode across the room, andopened the door. What emergency could make any of the boys go banging on my door at this hour? But there was only Tyler, standing in the hallway, leaning just a little too much on the doorframe, his eyes bright, a faint flush on his cheeks.

“Coach,” he murmured.

“Tyler.” His name came out rougher than I meant, my pulse quickening at the sight of him there, rumpled, his hair tousled, the smell of booze drifting off him. “Is everything all right? What are you doing here?”

He swayed a little, chuckling as if he’d forgotten the answer. Then he looked me in the eye, anguish contorting his pretty face. “I couldn’t do it. I wanted to go for it, but I couldn’t. Even when we joked and flirted, all I could think about… was you.”

“Get inside,” I said, not wanting someone to witness us quarreling, stepping aside to let him in.

He slipped past me, stumbling a little as he walked to the edge of the bed, and I closed the door behind us, the latch clicking softly in the quiet. I turned to him, a dozen words on the tip of my tongue, none of them strong enough to break the silence between us. I should have told him to go back to his room, sleep it off, come back when he could see straight. But something held me there, rooted to the spot, watching the way his gaze focused as it roamed over my body, a quiet warmth that seemed to reach past every wall I’d put up. He lickedhis lips as he looked at me, and I felt my cock stirring under my towel.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I forced myself to speak. “Tyler, did something happen with Chris? Tell me everything.” I told myself it was none of my business, that I had no right to feel this way, but jealousy was a slow burn, a steady ache that wouldn’t fade.

“Why do you care?” he said, meeting my eyes with a look that held nothing back, that same look of defiance, of quiet determination.

“I don’t know,” I said, stepping up to him. “But I do.”

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