Page 7 of The Fadeaway
I lift my head in acknowledgment. After I’m showered and changed, I stop in Coach’s office as requested.
“What’s up?” I slouch into the chair on the opposite side of his desk and grab two granola bars from my bag. These things are worthless. I’d need to eat like twelve to satisfy my hunger, but two is all I have left. Need to tell my mom, the saint who keeps our pantry stocked, to get something more substantial next time for snacks.
Coach stares down at his phone, a mixture of confusion and excitement in the way his mouth curves into a smile but his eyes scrunch together. “One second.”
I’m amused as he proceeds to make me fucking wait while he’s lost to whatever he’s got going on.
I give in and comment on his weird actions when the man actually snickers at the ping of an incoming message. “Sexting during office hours?”
It takes a moment before he lifts his head and meets my gaze. “Sorry, what?”
“Nothing. You wanted to see me?” I lift a hand for him to get to the point.
He sets the phone on the desk and then leans back in his chair. “Right. I want to switch things up a little bit on Sunday and have you up top of the zone instead of in the back. Shaw is still finding his place and we’re going to have to play the ball more aggressively if we want to rattle them.”
Makes sense. I’m taller and faster than the other options and Z is a beast down low.
“All right. Anything else?”
His phone pings again and he glances down before answering. “Yeah, what about local restaurant suggestions? Something nice but not too pretentious.”
I feel my left eyebrow arch up in question. “Team dinner?”
“Uhh. No.” He shakes his head. “Just thought you might know somewhere good. Since moving to Valley five years ago most of my dining out has included In-N-Out I’m afraid.”
“We talking restaurants of the romantic variety?”
The embarrassment that spreads across his features throws me off. Coach Daniels is not the kind of guy I expected to be looking for dating tips. “I said nice, not romantic.”
“When it comes to dining, those two things are synonymous.” I decide to put him out of his misery. “Araceli’s. It’s got great views, good menu, but it’s not over the top.”
“Araceli’s,” he repeats the name back slowly like he’s trying to remember it.
I toss the granola bar wrappers in the trash and pull my phone out. “I’m texting you the details. Shouldn’t need a reservation on a Thursday, but if you have any problems, just tell them you’re a friend and you want my table on the patio.”
“Yourtable on the patio?”
“I have a standing Thursday night reservation.”
He cocks his head to the side looking at me like the twenty-one-year-old kid he thinks I am.
“You better hope tonight isn’t the night I finally need it.” I stand and grin leaving him before he can ask me more.
4
Katrina
I was never particularly fondof mornings. Looking back that seems ridiculous. I mean how hard was it to get only myself up and out the door? Mornings now, though, are torture. Someone should warn you before having kids that getting up before the sun lasts way beyond the baby years. And those little Energizer Bunnies don’t understand the concept of not speaking until you’ve had a cup of coffee.
Nope, Christian barreled into my room before the sun even thought about rising and he’s been going nonstop ever since, chattering away all the while.
“Christian, we’re leaving in two minutes.” I don’t know why I give him a warning like that’s somehow going to hurry him up. My three-year-old son has no concept of time.
I grab my books and laptop and shove them in my backpack running through a mental checklist making sure I have everything for school, and he has what he needs for a weekend with his dad.
“Don’t forget to grab your soccer ball in case you guys go to the park.” Highly unlikely but if he takes the ball, there’s at least some chance that Victor will feel obligated to spend some time with his son. I’m so far beyond subtle manipulation at this point.
“Alright let’s load up.” I heave my backpack on my shoulder and grab the soccer ball that I spot laying on the living room floor. I mean honestly it isn’t like I wasn’t going to have to carry it anyway.
