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“I don’t think people sit there and wonder about other people’s dining etiquette. It must be a you thing.”
The laugh that rumbles from the back of his throat is soft but deep. Chills stir in my belly, and I squeeze my thighs to stop the odd feeling.
The waitress drops off our drinks, and I grab my soda like I’m dying from thirst, gulping it down as I fiddle with the straw. I need to steer the conversation away from myself.
“So, do you think we’re ready for the start of the season?”
Fallon blinks, considering my question seriously. “It’s hard to gauge without seeing how you girls play. Individually, you all have grown tremendously, but this isn’t an individual sport. And the majority of our players are new and haven't played together yet. So we’ll see.”
“So you think we’ll fail,” I say, a small bit of defeat hollowing my tone.
His head jerks back. “When did I say that?”
“In between the lines.”
“Sage, do I seem like the type of person who doesn’t say what I mean?”
I can feel the flush climbing up my neck, knowing he’s right, and I’ve let my own insecurities draw the conclusion. “Sorry.”
There’s a tense silence before the waitress drops off our food, and we both give our burgers more attention than each other. This is how I imagine going out with your coach would be like if you didn’t have a crush on him. The awkward looking around at other patrons as you eat, neither one knowing what to say to start a conversation. At one point, I say how good my burger is,and Fallon only acknowledges it with a small nod. So I give up, accepting I’ve ruined the mood.
He waits till I’ve finished every bite before standing and moving to the register up front to pay. I follow behind him silently, only muttering a quick thank you as he holds open the door. As soon as we’re back in the truck, he finally speaks for the first time in twenty minutes.
“Which way?”
I tell him the cross streets and turn to watch out the window.
“You can turn on some music if you like,” he says, breaking the momentary silence as we leave the parking lot.
Looking at his middle console, which is just a giant screen, I don’t want to embarrass myself by trying to figure that out.
I shake my head. “It’s okay. You can put it on if you want.”
He sighs, his knuckles flexing on the steering wheel.
I cross my arms, annoyed that he seems annoyed with me. “I’m not being difficult. I just don’t care if we listen to music or not.”
“I didn’t say you were being difficult.”
“Your sigh basically implied it.”
Fallon chuckles humorlessly. “You just took it that way. You are awfully defensive any time we talk.”
My mouth falls open and I turn to stare at him. “Because you’re always insulting me.”
He glances at me, his eyebrows pulled together and goes back to the road. “I’ve never insulted you, Sage.”
It’s my turn to laugh now.
“You basically thought I was coming here to only party, you thought my ego was so massive that I was above the entire team, you implied that luck has gotten me as far as I am, you thought I was flirting–” I say listing everything on my fingers before he interrupts me.
“Peters, it’s a bit of tough love. Have you ever had a coach care about the intentions of their players? Making sure they’re taking it seriously?” he asks.
I huff, offended that he’s implying the same thing again and the fact that he’s reverting to using my last name. “I accepted an athletic scholarship. I feel like that tells you enough.”
“A lot of athletes take scholarships and lose them from fucking around.”
“Is this about coming to Slater Hills again? Why does everyone care so much? Don’t list it as a suitable option then.”
