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Can I really blame Coach? I mean, I was sneaking around behind his back with his daughter, even when I knew that doing so put her future at risk. In his eyes, doing what he can to make sure she stays away from me is just protecting her.
If I were in his shoes, the kind of behavior I engaged in would throw up so many red flags and sound so many alarm bells, that I wouldn’t feel comfortable with my daughter staying with a guy like me, in a relationship like that.
I’ve skipped the two sessions of Pysch class that I’ve had since I walked away from Zoey in the hallway. The thought of being in the same room with her, when I know I’ll never be able to touch her again, never be able to feel her lips pressing against mine, never be able to feel the vibrations of her laugh while she’s snuggled tightly next to me … it’s just too fucking much to bear.
I’d rather just fail the class. Sure, it’d hurt my GPA, but it wouldn’t put my graduation at risk.
When the game ends with us winning 4-1, I can’t even summon the strength to cheer. I don’t share any high-fives with the guys. I don’t get hyped for the next game. I don’t have visions of the Frozen Four dancing in my head like everyone else surely does.
Coach gives a quick victory speech before we hit the showers on just that topic: the need to keep ourselves focused, to not ease up on the intensity or take our foot off the gas just because we’ve strung a couple strong wins together, because we need be in a constant playoff mindset.
I keep my head down during the speech. The playoffs are still more than a month away—just thinking about any length of time makes a pit of anxiety open up in my stomach. To me, the passing of time means nothing but more sorrow about not having Zoey.
In the shower, I stay silent under the scorching stream of hot water, even while the rest of the guys are excitedly talking to each other about the game, about how hyped they are for the playoffs, about so many of them being able to end their college careers with another national championship.
I leave the showers quick and get dressed. I’m not planning on hanging around to shoot the shit like we normally do, or to go out with the guys if they want to hit up a bar or get dinner together to celebrate.
I just want to go back home, lock myself in my room, and be fucking miserable all alone.
A hand falls on my shoulder after I step into my pants and tug on a shirt.
“Hey, man,” Hunter says. “How you holding up?”
I glance behind me. It’s Hunter. He’s still just got a towel wrapped around his waist, and is taking the couple minutes we have as the only two out of the shower to check in.
I told him about what happened with Zoey, how Coach walked in on us kissing, and how he’s going to let our breaking of the rules slide as long as we end things. I haven’t told anyone else, but since Hunter knew about Zoey and me already, and because he’s my best friend, I thought it was right to keep him in the loop.
Plus, it felt good to tell at least one of the guys, so that I didn’t have to keep this entirely bottled up. I don’t really want the whole world knowing that I’m moping in heartbreak like a teenager, but having one best friend who you can share your sorrows with takes the edge off.
“I’ll live,” I answer.
Hunter sighs. He glances behind him to make sure we’re still alone. “Have you tried sitting down and talking to Coach? Letting him know that you really care for Zoey, that it wasn’t just a meaningless fling to you?”
I laugh bitterly. “What would be the point? He’s already made up his mind. Besides, I don’t even know if Zoey feels the same way. And I don’t want things between her and her dad to get messed up because of me.”
Emotions swirl in my chest as I think about just how many reasons there are that Zoey and I can’t work. Even though love is supposed to conquer all, this is the real world, and all too often there are insurmountable roadblocks standing in the way.
And then, there’s the biggest reason of all …
“Besides,” I say. “Coach said he’d keep our secret if we ended things. If I don’t hold up that end of the deal, and he goes to the University about this, Zoey could fail the class that assigned her to the team. Or worse.”
“Do you really think Coach would do that to his own daughter?”
I sigh. Hunter’s line of reasoning is tempting. But to hope for the best would be naïve.
“If he thinks he’s doing it to protect her, because he doesn’t trust me to take care of his daughter since I already put her future at risk and snuck around behind his back like I was keeping a dirty secret, maybe he could. Either way, if there’s even a chance of that outcome, I can’t allow it to happen. I damn sure can’t let myself be responsible for it.”
Hunter opens his mouth to say something else, but two more of the guys step out of the shower, and our conversation would no longer be private.
“We’ll talk later,” he says, before walking to his locker to get changed.
Without exchanging another word with anyone, I slink out of the locker room and head home. When I get there, locking myself in my room and being all alone with my misery is exactly what I do.
33
ZOEY
Irush into the bathroom, glad to find myself alone so that I can relieve the pressure in my chest by letting out a couple raw sobs.
