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Dereck
“Keep your focus on that ball, Denny! Focus, focus!”
Coach’s voice rings heavy through the air, grounding into my head, but not quite making contact with my brain. My hands fumble and the ball hits the ground, bouncing right into another team member’s fingers.
“Shit,” I mutter, and Coach reiterates my thoughts.
“Shit is right.”
“Sorry, Coach.”
“Take a break, guys,” Coach says with a shake of his head, and I grimace inwardly as he pins his gaze on me. “Denny, let’s take a walk.”
I take off my helmet and set it down on the edge of the bleachers, then follow Coach across the field, almost running to keep up with him. On the outskirts of the football field, people watch practice while they study on the bleachers, looking up every once in a while with half-assed interest. I scan the small crowd of onlookers, a habit I’ve always had when on the field, and I spot Rowan and Jamie walking behind the bleachers, heading towards the classroom building not far from here. Just seeing Rowan out and about, smiling under the warm sun, gets me all twisted up again, and I can barely tear my gaze away from her.
When we’re far enough away from the others for privacy, Coach stops walking and turns to face me, placing a rugged hand on my shoulder and squeezing.
“Same girl?” he asks.
“What?” My eyes have lost sight of Rowan and Jamie. They must be inside now. But the lingering smile she’s left is like a tick in my brain, unrelenting and annoying, but somehow fascinating in its own way.
“Is it the same girl that has had you distracted all season long?” Coach asks, drawing my attention back to him. I almost don’t answer, but that’s never a good idea with Coach. He’ll get it out of us one way or the other, every time.
“Yeah,” I mutter, resisting the urge to drop practice and run after her, just to say hello. It's always Rowan. It’s never anyone else, not even Carly. “Same girl. I’m really struggling with it, Coach.”
Coach sighs and nods, allowing his hand to drop from my shoulder. “Do you know what I did to the last girl I couldn’t get over?” he asks, and I shrug.
“I married her.”
I laugh, but Coach doesn’t, and that shuts me up pretty quickly. “I’m in college, Coach.”
“So was I.”
“That’s your solution? Just marry her?”
“If you don’t want to marry her, then there’s your answer,” he says with a shrug. “If she’s not important enough to marry right now, she’s not important enough to lose your life and career over.”
I’m not sure I can see his point, but I nod anyway, like it makes sense.
“Right.”
“So,” Coach says gruffly. “Would you marry her?”
I consider this for a moment, imagining waking up next to Rowan every morning … the smile on her face, the softness of her skin … maybe we’ll have kids, a little boy that looks like me and a little girl with her fiery red hair …
“Yes,” I say. “I would marry her. Today.”
Coach says nothing at all for a long minute, and for a second I think he might slap me upside the head. Instead, he sighs and slaps me gently on the shoulder once more. “Then you’re in trouble,” he says with a shake of his head. “Young love isn’t something to mettle around with. But you have to figure it out, Denny, because I need my quarterback. You got that?”
“Sure, Coach. I got it.”
“Good. Now get back out there and play like your woman is watching you from the stands.”
I look over my shoulder, just out of habit, wishing to see that Rowan had stopped to watch practice. But of course she hadn’t. She probably hadn’t even seen me.
“Sure, Coach,” I say with a nod, turning my attention away from the crowd of students. “Copy that.”
