Page 20 of The Change Up
“Coach Weber.”
The tall, very attractive baseball coach turns to me. He’s wearing navy sweatpants, a CTU Baseball long-sleeve shirt with a CTU Baseball cap, and aviator sunglasses covering his eyes. Coach’s attire is a lot more casual than I was expecting. He takes a moment before responding, and with his dark lens, I’m not sure if he’s appraising my appearance or if he’s struggling to remember who I am.
Assuming he can’t remember who I am, I reintroduce myself. “Chloe Mariano from the newspaper. I’ll be joining you this season.” My voice wavers in my introduction over concern that he doesn’t remember me and concern that he’s going to be frustrated that I’m standing before him.
“Of course,” he begins. “I remember, Ms. Mariano. I’m just surprised to see you this dressed up for an almost seven-hour bus ride.”
“Oh,” I falter. “I wasn’t exactly sure what I should show up in so I went with my usual outfit. Is-is this okay?”
“There’s no dress code here. Feel free to dress in whatever makes you comfortable. If anyone ever gives you any hassle don’t hesitate to come to me or one of the other coaches on staff. We have a few other women on the training staff, and all the guys are to treat you with the same respect as anyone else.”
I smile. Coach Weber’s response was not one that I was expecting. In high school, the girls were forced to abide by archaic dress codes in order to keep the pervy high school boys from getting too excited in class. Shoulders covered, shorts pastour fingertips, and absolutely no low-cut shirts because heaven forbid, girls were a distraction.
“Thank you, Coach. And please call me Chloe.” He shakes his head in acknowledgment. “Sorry, I’m new to all of this. Where would you like me to put my bag?”
“You can take it to the side of the bus and the equipment team will make sure it is loaded in the storage compartment. Feel free to sit wherever you want on the bus. When we get to the hotel, the coaches will all gather for a debrief in the conference room. Please join us, and we’ll go over all the details.”
I nod and begin walking in the direction Coach instructed me to take my suitcase. I don’t make it very far before Coach Weber calls my name. “Chloe,” he starts as I turn my head over my shoulder. “I forgot one thing. Have fun. But not as much fun as the last two guys did.”
A wide smile stretches across my face. “You’ve got it, Coach.”
“Oh, and you can call me Callan.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen, Coach.” He chuckles, and we both go about our way.
Maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all. I thought for sure Coach Callan Weber was going to be a hard ass who took everything seriously. I mean, isn’t that how all the coaches in movies are? They’re gruff, never smile, don’t take any crap, and are all about being focused. Callan is not what I would’ve pictured at all.
Handing off my bag, I climb the stairs and enter the charter bus, and my feet stall when I reach the top stair.
Holy smokes. This is nice.
Definitely not any old-school bus. I’ve never been on a charter bus, and this is not what I was picturing. Inside are rows of black leather seats that look insanely comfortable like mini recliners. Each row has four seats: two on each side separated by the aisle. Above the seats are temperature vents and gauges,individual lights, and TVs in the back of the headrests. If it were possible, my jaw would be on the ground like in cartoons.
There are a handful of guys on the bus. Toward the front, there appear to be a few members of the coaching staff while some of the seats toward the back are occupied with players staring at me. And that niggling of self-doubt is crawling up my spine. Forcing the thoughts that are fighting to break free, I put one foot in front of the other and began walking toward an empty seat.
A few of the coaches turn my way, and we give the typical tight-lipped smiles and head nod greetings. Ignoring the eyes coming from the back of the bus, I leave a few rows open before sliding to a window seat on the opposite side of where people are dropping off their bags.
I am so out of my element.
Anxiety starts to creep in, inviting that element of self-doubt that I’m not good enough to be covering sports. Not to mention, the idea of seeing Cody after our awkward night together. Is he going to be angry that I didn’t tell him I would be along for the season? I was really hoping I could convince my professors to find someone else. But karma wasn’t on my side.
Deciding on being anti-social, I take a few minutes to make myself comfortable. Reaching inside my cross-body, I pull out AirPods and my Kindle before depositing my purse on the floor at my feet. I’m stuck between wanting someone to sit beside me and wanting the seat next to me to be open.
Scrolling through my phone, I click Spotify and find my go-to reading playlist: Noah Kahan Radio, which is filled with a mixture of genres ranging from alt-country, indie, and folk played by some of my favorite artists. Their voices are so soothing and their songs are good, but the beat never pulls me out of my reading, which is hard to find.
Switching on my Kindle, I open the latest novel by Elsie Silver. I’m back in my small town era, and I couldn’t be more excited to spend this bus ride devouring her words. I’ve been dying to read Jasper and Sloan’s story since I started the Chestnut Springs series. Who doesn’t want to read about a damaged hockey god who ends up on a road trip with his childhood crush?
Players start to file onto the bus, but I keep my head down and focus on the words in front of me. The idea of making uncomfortable eye contact as we do the weird smile/nod combination makes me cringe. I’d rather come off as completely standoffish than awkward.
I’m only a few pages into my book when the notion of looking up completely encompasses me. It’s like I physically feel him before I even see him. My eyes find him immediately. Only the beautiful golden hazel eyes are staring back at me completely cold. His eyes pin me with anger and frustration while his facial expression is completely blank. Cody Jacobs stares back at me with zero emotion, and I feel myself shrink in my seat. He brings a paper cup to his mouth, and I watch his sharp jaw and Adam’s apple bounce as he swallows. Cody passes me with no acknowledgment that I’m even sitting on this bus.
Hurt courses through my body. I’m not naive enough to think that our night spent together during the ice storm would change our relationship. It was just Cody being Cody. He can’t help but insert himself into being the hero in every girl’s story.
A light touch on my shoulder startles me to the point I jump about a foot out of my chair dropping my Kindle on the ground in the process. Grabbing my heart, I rip an AirPod out of my ear with my other hand.
“Oh my gosh,” I say breathlessly.
“Shit, Chloe. I thought you heard me.” I hadn’t realized Ty Billings slid into the seat next to me. “Mind if I sit with you?”
