Page 22 of Love on the Sidelines

Marsha comes out of the hotel with room keys after checking in, and I'm just grateful to find my room and get to sleep. Sure, it's only five o'clock in the evening, but that's an hour later than at home and if I'm going to coach the girls, I'm need to be on top of my game.

It's not until we get to the rooms that I realize I'm in a connecting suite with Marsha, Sarah, and three other girls.

By suite, it's not to say there is room for days. Oh no, we have to scoot around each other just to get to the beds and bathroom. And the door to the room next to us takes up more space because we leave it open to come and go.

I claim the bed closest to the air conditioner because this girl runs hot at nighttime. Then again, the air will have to travel over the bodies on the pullout couch. Thank goodness I've graduated out of that spot. There's no rest at all on one of those things. Unless you're thirteen or fourteen and can bounce back from everything.

"Let's go get some dinner," Marsha tells the girls after we've figured out how to stick all the gear into designated spots.

"Go on without me," I say, tucking my arms underneath the pillow. "If you swing by a drugstore, will you grab me some cold medicine?"

Marsha nods. "For sure. Rest up. We'll try to be quiet when we come back."

I don't know how long they've been gone, but it feels like a blink and they're back again, except this time smelling like pizza.

"I got a few options for you," Marsha says, handing me the bag from the drugstore. "We missed you at dinner. I should've asked if we could bring something back for you."

There’s a knock on the door and someone answers it.

"I have a delivery," Emily says, walking in with a small paper bag.

She hands it to me and takes a step back, talking to Sarah about how they should wear their hair for the games tomorrow.

I peek inside and see a bowl of soup. I could look up and ask her who it's from, but I'd be the one to look like an idiot from that.

"Look who thought of you," Marsha says with a wink.

The girls leave to go with Emily and I scoot back on the bed, opening the lid and breathing in. This smells like the best chicken noodle soup I've ever had. I should probably taste it to finish that statement.

I take a bite with the spoon provided and close my eyes. This is exactly what I needed tonight.

"Is someone sweet on a player's guardian?" Marsha says with a grin. She's rubbing goo all over her face to prepare for nighttime.

“Do people say ‘sweet on’ these days? I don't think that's typical.”

"Hey, I might be a little older than you, but I'm still hip."

"Case in point. No one says hip now."

"They also don't say chill, but I think that's what you say every other word." We laugh at that and she gives me a more sober look. "So? You and Charlie?"

My stomach constricts, but I'm cool as a fan when I say, "Me and Charlie what?"

"I think you'd be great together."

An uncontrollable laugh overtakes me. "Just because he bought me soup doesn't mean he feels anything for me."

"Honey, I've been married to my husband for sixteen years and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't know what to do with me when I'm sick."

Okay, so a point goes to Charlie for that. What these points are supposed to add up to, I'm not sure yet.

"I'm not good with men, Marsha. I'm always too much for them."

Marsha laughs, spitting out some of her toothpaste. At least it didn't land on me. She disappears, probably to spit out the rest, and comes back a few seconds later.

"Why are you too much?"

"Too athletic, too dumb in science, too casual in my dress, too intense in sports. Too competitive in life."

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