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I turn to see Coach Thompson approaching. Hastily, I tuck my phone back into my shorts. He hates technology and I’m already on thin ice.
“Hi, Coach,” I greet.
His shrewd gaze looks me up and down. I know evidence of Lennon’s recent sleepless nights are clear on my face.
“You good, son?”
“Yes, sir,” I reply.
I was just as vague with him about my whereabouts as I was with the guys, which I know is a large part of the pushback I received. I told Coach Thompson there was a personal matter I had to take care of, and my reliability in the past and importance to the team is the only reason I’m not being asked to pack up my locker right now.
“I trust you had a damn good reason for your absence?”
I swallow. “I lost someone I cared about, Coach. The funeral was this morning.”
His expression softens into a sympathetic one I’ve never seen before. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He keeps studying my face. I’m guessing the lines of exhaustion and lingering sorrow are saying a whole lot more than our conversation over the phone did. “If you need to take more time, let me know.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
He nods. “Nice to have you back, Winters.”
“Thanks,” I respond. Coming from Coach Thompson, that’s basically the equivalent of a bear hug.
We set up our usual circuit around the weight room. All the teammates I hadn’t seen yet give me warm greetings and relieved smiles. I wonder how many of them thought I was absent due to a serious injury, like Elliot.
Once our weight session ends, the whole team heads to Maloney’s. The local pizza and wings joint is already buzzing with activity that significantly increases in volume when the team appears.
Baseball is Clarkson’s most popular sports team. Mainly because wewin. The last time Clarkson’s football team had more wins than losses was before I was born. In the three years I’ve played on the baseball team, we’ve made it to playoffs every season.
We fill up three booths along the side of the restaurant that faces the street. The town Clarkson is located in doesn’t hold much of a draw to anyone but college students attending school here, but there are a few younger families walking along the sidewalk outside. Probably here to camp in the surrounding mountains.
I end up smushed in a booth between Drew and Elliot, impatiently tapping the table. I’m starving. Aside from the eggs I burned this morning before choking them down, I haven’t eaten anything. Lennon didn’t eat anything at all. My table drumming quickens as I battle the urge to text her again.
Before I can fully talk myself in or out of a decision, our waitress appears.
“Hey, boys,” Jessica greets.
Her attention bounces between Drew and Jamie, who’s seated across from me. Unlike most of the girls who hang around the team, Jessica has divided her attention between my two housemates since freshman year.
Predictably, the love triangle—lust triangle would be more accurate—has generated lots of drama. When guys tell me I’m wasting my college years in a serious relationship, I wonder what they make of this mess. The other side of casual hook-ups is not all that sexy.
“Five large cheese pizzas,” Elliot orders. “Actually, make it six. And two pitchers of beer. No, three. We’re celebrating havingourpitcher back!” He claps my shoulder. “Get it?”
“Yeah, I got it,” I assure Elliot.
“Coming right up,” Jessica replies.
A few of the guys here aren’t twenty-one yet, but Maloney’s popularity has more to do with its generous carding policy than its greasy pizza. “I might need one of you guys to help me carry it all over.”
“I will,” Jamie immediately offers.
“All right.” Jessica departs with a coy smile, while Drew stares daggers at Jamie.
Elliot sighs next to me.
I’m not the only one fed up with their drama.
“Why don’t you guys find someone else?Eachfind someone else,” Elliot stresses.
