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His agreeable head nod only prompts me further. “You two need a divorce, and you need it ASAP!” I clap my hands at them, prompting them to move away from one another. Ironically enough, even in the huddle, they’d been right next to each other.
“Yeah, split up, lovebirds,” Wilks eggs them on.
“Hey, Wilks!” I seek this as a perfect opportunity to get to him next.
He nods in my direction, confidence radiating off of him through that cocky smile he’s always got on.
“Coach here tells me you’re the captain, the big shot,” I say, meeting his gaze as I speak. “Is that right?”
He egotistically smirks in response. “Yeah,bigsounds like the right word to describe me.” He puffs his shoulders, causing a few muffled laughs and cursing throughout the group.
“Hmm,” I ponder. “Then tell me, why can’t you make a singleshoton net lately? I mean, is your aim really that bad? Gosh, I don’t want to envision what your bathroom looks like at home, or worse—how your girlfriend feels about your lack of direction…that’s if you even have one, of course.”
Warren, who was taking a sip of water beside me, chokes back a laugh at my comment before quickly turning in the other direction.
He’s not the only one who can’t seem to contain themselves. The rest of the team erupts into shouts and laughter, falling over one another as I smirk proudly.
By now, Alf has joined the huddle, and I’m almost sure that I hear him say to Warren, “Look who finally came out of theirshell.” A comment that, this time, doesn’t solicit a frown but instead an intrigued nod.
“Coach!” Wilks urges like a whiny baby. “Are you really gonna let her talk to us like this?”
Warren shrugs in response. “Why not?” he asks. “It’s all very true. Anything else you’d like to add, Delaney?”
Not only am I surprised by his sheer willingness to let me continue, but I’m also taken aback by the way hearing him say my name makes butterflies unleash in my stomach. I’d never been a fan of my own name, but now I’ve never wanted to hear it more, especially when, for the first time, I feel like he actually wants to hear what I have to say.
“That was pretty much all of it,” I finish, partially because I think I’ve made my point and partially because I genuinely don’t have another area of feedback. I’d really laid it all on the line just now. “But the rest of you, don’t think I’m not watching,” I warn them. “I’ve been doing my research on you guys, and from what I’ve read and what I’ve seen, you need a shake-up. You know, there’s this ride back home at the state fair called the cranium cracker. God, I’d love to toss you all into it. This past week has been painful, and the reason why is because I know each of you are better than this. So, get your heads out of the gutter and fix it up; otherwise, I’ll have to crank the heat up even more. Understood?”
After my lengthy rant, I let out a breath, leaving the team glancing at each other, their expressions almost impressed.
A moment of silence passes by before Warren finally blows his whistle one last time. “And with that, practice is over,” he announces. “Come back tomorrow and get on the field with that feedback in mind, will ya?”
I smile at each player as they exit the pitch and head into the tunnel, murmuring amongst themselves about my little display.
“Now!” I clasp my hands together eagerly as I turn towards Warren and Alf. “Can I actually start to do my job now?”
They look at each other in unison, although I know it’s been Warren who’s been the one holding me back the entire time and not Alf, who waits for his approval.
Warren tilts his chin slightly in the direction of the tunnel, an action that prompts Alf to place a careful hand on my shoulder—one I catch Warren’s eyes falling onto before he quickly pulls them away.
“Well then,” Alf instructs as I look up at him. “Let me show you your office, Miss PR.”
I can’t help but squeal in excitement. “Office? Are you serious? I’ve been waiting for this day for, like…a week!” I grin happily, causing Alf to chuckle. “Are you sure?” I smile over at Warren.
“Go on,” I hear Warren’s final two words as Alf leads me down a side hallway in the tunnel, the darkness suddenly contrasted by bright sunlight as he leads me into a small office overlooking the field.
“Oh, my gosh! This is mine?!” I run into the middle of the room, glancing around at the walls, the desk, and the shelves just waiting to be decorated with pictures of me…and family, of course.
The large window on the wall, situated right behind the sidelines where I stand next to Warren each day, offers a perfect view of the field.
“It’s all yours,” Alf confirms. “I’ll leave you to settle in.” He flashes a warm smile before closing the door on his way out.
I hop into a swivel chair that lingers by a glass desk, twirling in a circle before I stop myself at the sight of Warren cleaning up the field after the practice.
As he picks up the pylons, I can’t help but notice the way he’s found a ball and is dribbling it effortlessly between his feet, the ball moving from his right foot to his left almost magically.
Even in dress pants and shoes, he takes a shot on the net with a sheer force that I haven’t seen one of the players exert.
He runs his hand through his hair roughly as he heads back to mid-field, gathering the last of the pylons and stray footballs.
