“Ryne, look, it goes without saying but I’m gonna say it anyway: you need to get your act together. I want to help but you have to talk to me.”
My jaw clenches and I count backward from ten, then look at Coach again. “I know, I got it. I need to refocus. I’ve been a little distracted but I know there’s no excuse and I need to get my shit together.”
He levels me with a stare. “Okay. But remember I’m here if there’s anything I can do to help, on or off the field. My office door is always open.”
My pride takes a dive-bomb at his words but I swallow hard and give him a clipped nod.
“Thanks, Coach.”
He walks away, heading toward Dacen now. A loud growly sigh escapes and I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the sweaty strands.
I don’t need anyone’s help. I need to cut the distractions. Or distraction, singular, I guess. This is my last season here and it’s already half over. I can’t let things go to shit when I’m so close to the end and need a good finish to boost my fall season next year at college. I swallow hard again as the unease in my stomach swirls faster and bile creeps up my throat.
Focus and finish.
Why is this so hard? It’s what I want. Right?
* * *
I’d avoidedDacen after practice, showering, changing, and getting the hell out in less than five minutes.
“You could try the classic ‘fuck ‘em and forget ‘em,’” Roman suggests from his seat at the bar counter in Evan’s basement. He holds onto the counter with two hands and spins the bar stool back and forth. I’ve been bitching to the guys about how I keep messing up at practice lately, and this is Roman’s advice.
So. Helpful.
Tyler frowns and even Evan gives Roman a healthy dose of side-eye.
“He could, sure,” Tyler drawls out in a dry voice. “But that’s a little like slapping a Band-Aid on a broken arm and calling it fixed.”
“Yeah, and he’s a dick but he’s not a bastard,” Evan adds.
That’s a ringing endorsement if I’ve ever heard one. I flip Evan off with both hands and he grins at me. Roman spins all the way around and stops when he’s facing me on the couch. He crosses his arms over his chest and continues with his advice.
“Just ignore him then. There’s no rule that says you have to like him or fuck him or talk to him. If he’s a distraction either do him and move on or just move on. It’s not that complicated.”
I run my hands through my hair, groaning. “Why do we sound like a bunch of girls right now, sitting around talking about this? I just need a way to not be distracted. That’s all there is to it.”
“Just ignore him.” Roman underscores his words by gesturing brusquely with his fingers. “How many times do I have to repeat myself?”
“I can’t just ignore him, Rome. We have that group project in speech class.”
“Or.” Tyler points at me. “Option three. Hang out with him, go out, see how things go. Maybe your brain will chill then.”
I snort and shake my head. “Are you suggesting I date him?” The memory I’ve tried to bury from this summer pushes its way to the surface of my brain. An angry jolt runs down my spine, stabbing along the way, and I grit my teeth. No thanks.
He shrugs and lifts his hands. “It’s an option.”
“It’s a stupid option.”
I lean forward on the couch and pick up a cookie from the plate on the small coffee table. Before I take a bite I look over at Tyler. His eyes are calm but he’s frowning.
“It’s still an option,” he repeats. He’s serious about this whole ‘me and Dacen dating’ thing. That’s laughable.
“This is coming from mister ‘I never go on a third date.’ You’re not exactly the authority on healthy dating advice.” I take a huge bite and sit back while I chew. Tyler rolls his eyes.
“We’re talking about you, not me. I’m not afraid of emotions. Nobody’s kept my attention long enough for a third date.”
“We know,” Evan chuckles. “You’ve worked your way through most of the student population at this point, and you swing all ways so that’s saying something. It’s a good thing this is our last year of high school because you’re about to hit the bottom of the barrel pretty soon. You’ve got some crazy-ass standards, man.”
