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I’m not as secretive as I hoped, as Alf catches me off guard while I rush through the tunnel and onto the side of the field. Much to my dismay, his outburst causes all heads to turn in my direction, but it’s Warren whose burning gaze I can feel the most—a gaze that refuses to allow me to look away.
Why does he always have to look so good? Like, can’t a girl catch a break? Despite the whistle resting between his lips, I can almost sense his face shift as he sees me, his hardened eyes showing a hint of that softness I had begun to get familiar with. I swear I see a glimmer of shame cross his face before he turns away abruptly and blows the whistle, calling the group in to reconvene after their drill.
“So, how was your time off? Do anything exciting?” I almost forget that Alf is standing in front of me with a cheery expression on his face as I keep my gaze locked in on Warren. Desperate to get his attention for just a moment longer before I finally decide to glance away.
“Oh…” I meet Alf’s wondrous eyes. “I definitely did someexcitingthings,” I sarcastically remark, loud enough that I hope Warren can hear…and feel bad about it.
Unknowing of theexcitingthing I’m referring to, Alf shoots me a delighted grin. “That’s great, Laney! I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
Oh, I’m sure you’d much rather not.
I have to force a smile in response before searching for the time around the stadium. “Is, uh…practice almost over?” I ask him.
“Just about.” Alf peers down at his watch. “Parker’s been working these boys like there’s no tomorrow. He’s in one of those moods again.”
“Is that so?” I can’t help but act clueless despite knowing the cause of Warren’s moodiness for once.
Alf’s short with a nod as he meets my eyes. “Who knows with Warren?” He shrugs. “Maybe something happened during his break.”
My throat tightens as he speaks. It’s almost as if he’s looking at me for assurance. I shrug, attempting to act unknowingly despite being all-knowing.
“Maybe,” I offer, gulping down yet again as the raging desire to see Warren in his element again demands all of my thoughts.
“How about you go and talk to him?” Alf suggests, almost as if he’s reading my mind. “You always seem to lighten the mood.”
His request brightens my face for what feels like the first time in days as I take off my coat and rest it between my arms, revealing the loose satin dress I’d carefully opted to wear underneath.
You know what they say: oftentimes, the best things lie beneath the surface.
“That’s a great idea, Alf,” I announce with a cocky smirk. “I’ve actually been meaning to say a few things to him.”
Alf raises an eyebrow in question, words lingering on the tip of his tongue as if he wants to speak—perhaps debate the scheming tone in my voice. But instead, he slowly nods his head and joins the boys on the field while I carefully stride my way over to Warren.
Yet, with each step his way, Warren conveniently opts to go the other. It doesn’t matter though. There’s no escaping. Warren can attempt to follow the boys on the field as much as he wants. I’ll chase him down if I have to. I have a message to give him, and it’s one I refuse to go unread.
“Hey, Coach!” I’m sharp with my tone, demanding his attention as I reach into the pocket of my jacket.
Somehow, he halts in place at the sound of my voice and looks over at me as his sharp eyes finally rest on mine. Thankfully, we’re close enough so that no one else seems to catch wind of my outburst.
Warren’s silent. I’m silent. It’s awkward. He’s awkward. This is off to a terrible start.
But realistically, nothing needs to be said here. I pull a paper out of my pocket and gently press it into his, watching his throat tighten up as his eyes linger on my touch.
“What is this?” He asks, his voice quiet and unsure as he pulls out the note, unbreaking of his gaze.
“Open it and find out.” My face is stoic, but my voice is inviting as I head back through the tunnel, knowing damn well that this message will lead him right where I want him.
“Meet me in the change room.”
W A R R E N
“Hey…um…Alf.” I’m acting like a total incompetent fool after reading Delaney’s note, desperately trying to concoct some sortof escape route straight down the tunnel and into the change room as quickly as possible.
“Yeah?” He hardly turns his head in my direction. It’s a small thing to notice, but undoubtedly an action I’ve been guilty of omitting his way one too many times. I hadn’t realized just how annoying it was until now.
I clear my throat, adjusting the collar of my shirt. It’s gotten tighter after seeing Delaney again—though the image of her somber eyes as I left her high and dry in the hallway has refused to rid itself from my mind. Honestly, not a second has gone by where she hasn’t consumed every ounce of my being. There’s a reason why I’m still holding this practice—because it’s the only thing stopping me from crawling back into bed and reminding myself of how much of a fool I’d been.
“I…uh…need to go and clear something off my desk.” I foolishly opt for it as my excuse. “Mind taking over?” I gesture in the direction of the boys.
