Page 72 of Off Limits

Uh-oh. That’s never a good sign.

Coach examines me for a moment, his brown eyes piercing, his face solemn, and I give him my best impassive face, waiting patiently for him to cut to the chase.

“How would you say the season is shaping up so far, Simon?” he asks at last.

My brows jump in surprise. That’s definitely not the opener I was expecting. “Alright, I guess.”

“Just alright? We’re having a winning season for our first season in this division, and if we can keep that up, we’re on track to get into a bowl game.”

“Sure, yeah. We’ve been doing pretty good.” I nod, my initial surprise fading away now that I can see that this is headed exactly where I expected when I sat down.

Coach sits forward and plants his forearms on the desk, leaning closer. “Is there a problem with the team you’d like to discuss?”

I shake my head. “No.” I don’t know if we’re as tight as we’ve been in past years, but I’m not sure if that’s just me for all my own reasons, because there’s a new coach, or because of the transfer quarterback taking over for Cal. Could be any combination of those things, actually. But we’re playing well together, and that matters more than any off-field bonding. Especially to a coach who was brought in to give the program a strong start in its first Division I season.

He studies me for another long moment. “Okay, then, is there anything going on with you specifically that you’d like to discuss?”

“No.” I don’t even bother to shake my head this time.

He sighs, dropping his head down between his arms for a second before raising it again. “You’re one of our strongest players, Simon. One of the captains. I rely on your level head and leadership out on the field.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. So it concerns me when I see one of my seniors, one of my top players, suddenly performing like garbage. Last game was bad enough, but we managed to pull it off despite your footwork being off and you letting Kilpatrick get sacked when you normally would’ve blocked that guy from getting through with no problem.”

The tips of my ears heat up, the uncomfortable and unwelcome feeling of shame sitting like a lump in my chest. I open my mouth to say something, make some excuse for my performance in the last game and in practice this week, though I have no idea what.

But Coach holds up a hand to forestall any explanation I might give. “I don’t really need your apologies or excuses, Hindley. And I know that’s all I’m going to get out of you, because you just said you don’t want to tell me what’s actually going on. So I’m going to assume it’s personal shit and not that your grandma is dying of cancer, because I would hope you’d be willing to tell me something like that.”

He spears me with a look until I shake my head.

“Good. Then what I need is for you to get your head back in the game. Whatever shit’s got into your head, you’re not going to get it out by running yourself into the ground. The strength coaches have told me you’ve been putting in extra time in the weight room, and I know I’ve seen you in here more often than normal, drenched with sweat and breathing hard from a run or some other type of cardio. You’re a smart guy. You and I both know that keeping up like you’ve been doing is a recipe for injuries. None of us want that.”

Again with the look until I nod.

He nods too. “We have a game in two days. Tomorrow is a rest day for you. You’ll watch tape during practice instead of running drills with the team, because I need you at a hundred percent. If we lose the next game, we’ll be on the cusp of turning our winning season into a losing season and jeopardizing our chances of making a bowl game this year. And not to add to the pressure, but I’ve heard rumors of scouts planning to attend one of the next few games. You want to be on top of your game, not showing the world that you can’t hack it. The pressure in the pros is much worse than at the collegiate level. I know you and Cal have been planning on getting invited to the combines in the spring, and I’ll just say that if you finish the season strong, you’re likely to get an invite. But if you keep sliding down the hill you’re on, you might just kiss those chances goodbye. Go home. Finish whatever you need to do tonight, and then, I don’t know, take a bubble bath or some shit. Relax. Let your body rest. Go to bed early and get plenty of sleep. Don’t let me see you before tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yessir,” I mumble, standing and leaving, Coach’s attention already back on whatever he was working on before I came in.

While I didn’t exactly have my ass handed to me like I’d expected, the forced rest day tomorrow is the worst news I’ve had all week. What am I going to do with myself if I can’t workout? How am I going to keep my hands off my phone and away from Ellie’s contact info?

Cal pops up from the bench where he was obviously waiting for me, the same concerned look on his face from before I went into Coach’s office. “What’d Coach want?”

“Nothin’” I grunt, walking past him.

“Hey,” he calls behind me, the syllable short and sharp as he catches up and shoves my shoulder. “What the fuck, man? What’s going on with you?”

I shrug and stop, but only so I can drop my backpack on the ground and yank my sweatshirt over my head. It’s cold enough outside now that it’s November that I don’t want to be out in my T-shirt, even if it is sunny today. The perfect fall day, crisp and clear, crunchy leaves dusting the edges of the sidewalks around campus, so at odds with the storm clouds hanging over me.

When my head pops out of the top of my sweatshirt, Cal’s there waiting, his arms crossed, his face now a scowl. “Something’s up. I’m not stupid. You’ve been off for like two weeks. I’ve been putting up with your grumpy bullshit, hoping it would blow over soon, but it’s affecting you on the field now, enough that you’re getting dragged into Coach’s office for a lecture. So I’m gonna ask again: What the fuck is going on with you?”

I bite back the words that want to come tumbling out. He wants to know what’s wrong with me? That’s fucking hilarious. Or it would be if it weren’t so infuriating. Because he’s a big part of what’s wrong with me. Or more specifically, what went wrong with Ellie and me. She wouldn’t give us a real chance because her asshole brother’s delicate feelings might get ruffled if he found out we’re together.

Part of me wants to just tell him everything. Right here, right now.

But I don’t. Because what purpose would that serve? We’re not together now, but Cal would still be pissed about me dating his sister. He’d be pissed I even spent time with his sister. Hell, when I told him I was helping her with her statistics classone time, he wasn’t even thrilled about that.

The whole point of keeping my relationship with Ellie a secret was so I wouldn’t ruin my friendship with Cal. And telling him would definitely do that.

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