by Claire Adams
“Well, let's not worry about it too much,” I encouraged Leena, “and besides, most of them are here to cheer for us. With all this support, we're sure to do well.”
“I sure hope so. We need to win this game, we really do.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
Leena looked across the court at the girls by the bench, the ones who hadn't made the starting line-up. Tammy and Kelly looked especially upset. “Those two are definitely hoping we'll screw up,” she said, nodding her head subtly toward them.
“Well, let's not give them that satisfaction,” I replied.
“I don't intend to.”
We reached our side of the court, and the referee blew his whistle for the five-minute warning. The game was about to begin. Leena had been chosen to represent our team, and she walked across to the net to meet the Miami team member and the ref to flip a coin to see who would serve first. We lost the coin toss, so Miami elected to serve first.
My heart was hammering in my chest, and my mouth suddenly felt as though I could drink a gallon of water and it wouldn’t even quench my thirst. I couldn't believe how nervous I felt. I breathed in slowly and deeply as their server soared the ball across the net.
It was a good serve and could have been an ace if it weren’t for a pretty spectacular dive from Leena who just scooped the ball up inches from the ground. The ball was passed across to me, and I jumped to attack it, sending it right to the back of their court.
Their captain dove for the save, but the player who received it fumbled, and it bounced out of the court. We scored! A surge of excitement rushed through me, and the cheers echoing around the hall from the crowd sent swells of exhilaration roaring through my veins.
Our players all high-fived each other, and the traces of nervousness seeped away. All it took was getting that first play out of the way. I was in the zone now.
We played hard and kept our intensity up throughout the first game, which we took very convincingly at thirty points to their thirteen. We took a quick break after the first game to have a breather and rehydrate. Leena got us in a huddle.
“We're kicking ass, girls; we're kicking ass,” she announced, and a murmur of agreement rippled around the circle. “Their defense is obviously their weak point. They lose points and are unable to defend every time we launch a strong attack. They're much better on offense, though, so we can't afford to let them get anything set up because, as good as our defense is, when they get a setup, they smash right through us. We have to keep the pressure on, and keep attacking.”
We all agreed, so for the next game, we arranged our positions in an attack formation. We'd weakened our defense, yes, and probably would lose a few points, but we'd win points far more quickly.
I was positioned on the net, and anything that came my way was spiked with merciless force right back over onto their side of the court. The roar of the crowd and the knowledge that my mom and sister were watching me and cheering was electricity in my veins.
And every time I would glance across at Wade to see that encouraging smile on his face, it added a whole new dimension. I could feel his eyes on me; feel his support and reassurance filling me with a new strength.
We took the second game by an even bigger margin. Our strategy was working.
Wade ran over to us as we dabbed at our sweat with towels and sipped on Gatorade.
“Girls, you are absolutely demolishing them! Yes! Hell, yes! Keep those attacks strong. You're breaking them under the pressure. You just need to take this game, and we'll all be able to go home early!”
I grinned; I couldn't remember when I'd last felt so charged, so exhilarated. We got back onto the court for the third game, and I had a strong feeling it would be the last one. I wanted to make this a totally decisive victory.
Again, we attacked with everything we had offensively, but I put just as much effort into defense. I dove and saved at least two strong shots from them, turning them into points for us. They were fighting back hard, though, and we lost a lot more points this time around. Eventually, it came to a match point; we were on twenty-nine, they were on twenty-eight.
They sent a strong serve over. Leena blocked it, and another team member set up an assist, bouncing the ball over to me for a spike.
I sprang into the air and made it seem like I was about to smash it with comet-like force across the net which had their defense diving in anticipation…except I didn't. Instead, I merely brushed the ball with my left hand so that it just cleared the net and dropped softly to the floor. It was a perfect ruse – and it had just won us the game and the match.
“Game and match to Florida State University!” shouted the ref as she blew her whistle. The crowd went wild, and my team congregated into a big, excited group hug.
Wade ran over too, high-fiving all of us, with a huge smile beaming from his face. “You girls did it! You did it! Well done, well done, I'm so proud right now, so proud!”
I was proud, too – of my teammates, of my best friend, and, of course, of myself. It was an amazing moment, one that I knew I'd remember always.
“Girls, I'm taking you all out to lunch, right now, to celebrate. Go get showered and then we're going to get pizza!”
*****
I said goodbye to Leena and the rest of my teammates, and then walked over to my car, which happened to be parked next to Wade's. I was still on a high from winning the game. I got in, turned the key and after a few seconds of what sounded like the motor whining at me, a series of clicks tapped over and over. I tried it again. Same result.
Still, I refused to let this put me in a bad mood. Not after the awesome day I’d had. Just as I was about to try it again, Wade came walking along to his car after having said his goodbyes to some other members of the team.
“Hey, Eryn, is something wrong?”
“Well, I think it’s dead,” I replied jokingly.
“Hmm, try it again. Let me take a listen.” I pushed forward on the key once more only to me met with another series of clicks.
“Yeah. Sounds like your battery died. We'll have to get a new one; without it, this car isn't going anywhere.”
“Well, crap,” I replied. “Is it too late to get one now?”
“I’m sure we can.” He glanced at his watch. “The auto parts place should still be open. Come on, we'll drive over and see.”
Thirty minutes later, we were pulling back into the parking lot of the pizza joint with a new battery in tow. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you missed your calling as a mechanic,” I told him teasingly.
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about changing careers if this coaching thing doesn’t work out,” he retorted.
“Don’t you dare!” I exclaimed and bumped my shoulder into his as he tightened something around the new battery he’d just installed under the hood of my car.
“Thanks, by the way,” I said. “I really appreciate you coming to my rescue once again. I really wish there was some way I could repay you.”
I glanced over at him as he turned to look at me with the heart-stopping gaze that I kept getting caught up in. Our eyes locked with an intensity that coursed through every nerve of my being.
“A kiss would go a long way,” he said in a soft, velvety voice. “That’s how it’s done in the movies, right? Hero gets a kiss?”
He said it as a joke – except that it wasn't…and both of us knew it.
“I like the sound of that,” I whispered.
I felt his fingers wrapping themselves around my hand as he pulled me closer to him. My pulse quickened, and heat began spreading through my body. On some level, I knew this shouldn't be happening. I knew that he knew it, as well, but somehow, that didn’t stop the pull toward each other. It couldn't stop it.
His hand tangled itself in the hair at the base of my neck, and he pulled me to him. Seconds later, our lips were pressed together, and his tongue began to explore my mouth, slowly and gently at first, and then I felt fire and heat rushing through m
e as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as the kiss grew heavy and passionate. I ran my fingers through his hair and felt his strong arms pulling me tight against him.
I felt his hands run down my back as we kissed with more and more intensity. Waves of pleasure whistled through my body as I pressed myself up against his hard, muscled torso.
His hands moved further down to wrap around my waist, pulling my lower body against his and making me very aware of his member starting to throb as it hardened, pressing against my belly.
We parted from the passionate kiss, both panting softly. I didn’t know who stepped back first, but suddenly, we were standing apart.
“Wow,” he gasped. “That was...just wow. That was pretty damn amazing.”
“Yeah,” I replied, also trying to catch my breath. “It really, really was.”
“I’m sorry, Eryn,” he said, “I know I shouldn’t have done that. I was out of line.”
His words said one thing, but the way he was looking at me screamed that he wanted to do it again. And, I wanted him to. But I couldn’t say that. Could I?
“Yeah. Ummm…probably not a great idea. Was it?”
We both stood in silence for a while.
“I need to go see my mom,” I said suddenly, a nasty awkwardness creeping through me. “I'll talk to you later, okay? Thanks again for the ride to the store.” With that, I got into my car as quickly as I could and drove off, a huge storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions raging within me.
CHAPTER 12
Wade
I was still trying to catch my breath as I watched Eryn drive away and trying to tame the fireworks going off in my mind – cliché, I knew, but there was no other way to describe how it felt when we had kissed.
I didn’t even know what prompted me to suggest the kiss. Of course, it had been the first thing that had popped into my head when she'd asked if there was any way she could repay me for my help, but I didn't intend for the words to actually come out of my mouth! I really didn’t expect her to encourage it.
But now, damn… I was really glad they had. Wrong or not, that kiss had confirmed what I had secretly been feeling for her, she had also secretly been feeling for me.
But now what? That was the big question. There was, of course, the massive elephant in the room that I knew neither of us wanted to confront, even though we ultimately were going to have to: the fact that I was her coach and she was my player.
Not to mention the age difference.
But it was just so easy to talk with her. The conversation always flowed quickly and smoothly between us. It really wasn't as if there was any difference at all in years between us.
But the coach-player thing...there was no way that that wouldn't be a problem. A huge problem, in fact.
I supposed I needed to do some research, and that would mean chatting to a few people who had been working here a lot longer than I had. Different schools had different policies on things like this, and I needed to find out exactly what ours was. There was only one person I trusted to ask about a subject so delicate. Someone who had worked at Florida State for a long time; someone I knew pretty well, since he'd been my coach once upon a time: Coach Hatting.
The fact that we'd just won our first game by a very convincing margin would be a good reason to go speak to him and would make for an easy lead into the conversation. I took out my phone and called him up.
“Vinson!” he said in his rough, gravelly voice as he answered the phone. “What can I do ya for?”
“Hi, Coach Hatting,” I replied, “you in the mood for a beer or two?”
“It's 'Cal;' you can drop the 'Coach Hatting' thing, Vinson! I ain't your coach no more! But hell yeah, I could do with a Bud, sure! I'm guessing you wanna talk about the girls' first game, huh? How did that go?”
“We won!”
“Excellent. Well, then I definitely wanna hear about it. Let's have a beer over at Captain Dorego's. You can buy me a shrimp burger, too; how does that sound?”
“See you there in half an hour?” I replied with a chuckle.
“Perfect.”
I cut off the call and breathed out a slow sigh. A touch of nerves set in. I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to the questions I was going to ask him. Hell, I didn’t even know if Eryn would be open to trying that kiss again.
Nonetheless, I needed to know. No woman had ever stirred me up like Eryn. And I wasn’t about to pretend I wasn’t feeling anything.
Forcing down the anxiety, I got in my car and began the drive.
*****
Half an hour later, a waiter in a pirate costume greeted me at the door of Captain Dorego’s and I couldn't help but chuckle under my breath at how unenthusiastic he seemed in his role.
“Arr matey, be you dining alone or with company?” he asked in what had to be the worst pirate impression I'd ever heard.
“A friend of mine is on his way. Table for two please.”
“Follow me then, ye'll be seated in Davey Jones' locker.”
I followed the teenage boy over to the table, marveling at how cheesy the whole pirate theme was and wondering why Coach Hatting had chosen this place. Perhaps, despite the silliness, the food was actually decent.
“A tankard of ale or a mug a' rum for ye, matey?” asked the teenager.
“How about two Buds?”
“Arr, two Budweisers it tis then,” he replied, and then hurried off.
I smiled as I saw Coach Hatting shuffling in as the pirate left. He walked over to me and we shook hands.
“Tell me all about it!” he said, getting right to the point as he sat down. “What was the final score?”
“It was a total whitewash,” I said with a grin. “We absolutely creamed them.”
“The score, dammit, the score!”
“We took it straight – three games. First game was thirty to thirteen, the next they only managed nine, but the last game Miami did fight back hard, and managed to get twenty-eight. It was too little, too late for them, though.”
Coach Hatting was overjoyed. “I knew it! I just damn well knew it! Gosh darn it, you've done a stellar job, Vinson. I knew that team just needed a real coach to take 'em to the top.
“That bozo who was there before, with his bribe-taking and general sloppiness, he did enough damage that they finished second to last in the league last season. If I ever see that moron, I swear to God, I'm gonna clock him, right in the damn jaw! But man, you're turning it all around, Vinson, you're turning it all around!”
“Don't forget that you're also responsible for this success, Coach — I mean, Cal. You coached them before I showed up, so it's just as much your victory as it is mine.”
“So tell me, Vinson, who were the star players?”
“Leena Kenton; I made her captain because she's a real extrovert and great at drumming up team spirit. She played well. Jacky Shay, she was great on defense. And Lois Bruin, she played her ass off. But I gotta tell you, Cal, there’s one who really played like an absolute pro-”
“Wait, let me guess...Eryn Barnett?”
“Yes!”
“It's a damn crime that she’s been on the bench for so long. It really is. She has the most potential I've seen in a player since...since... Well, since I coached you all those years ago.”
“I know. She really does, and she really did us proud today.”
“Like you, Vinson, I think she could get to the top. I'm talking Olympics, Vinson, Olympics! Then the pro circuit. Just like you!”
“That's what I'm hoping for, too, Cal. I really am.”
We paused the conversation for a bit to sip on our beers. I wondered how I could steer the topic away from volleyball and more toward student-teacher relationships at the university without making anything too obvious.
“Cal, tell me about your coaching days. I mean...what was life like on the campus back when you first started there? You know, when you were a young man.”
“Hmm, well, I suppose it wasn't much different to how it is now. O
f course, there weren't all them fancy gadgets and phones and computers and stuff, and I seem to remember kids spending a lot more time in the libraries back then instead of on computers.
“But that was back in the late ’70s and early ’80s, and I mean, the whole country was different back then. You know, we had just come out of Vietnam, where I served, you know, and...”
I listened to him go on and on, recounting stories about his early days at the University, and his time in Vietnam. It wasn't that I wasn't interested — he was telling me some pretty fascinating stuff — but I really was anxious to find out about the student-teacher relationship thing. I let him continue with his stories, but when there was a break in the conversation, I jumped in.
“Sounds like you had a real interesting time over those years there. I was wondering, though, what about the gossip side of things? You must have had some juicy stories to tell, right? I mean, did any professors, you know, get it on with their students and get caught?”
I asked about professors specifically because I knew if I mentioned coaches and players, he might figure that something was up with me.
He chuckled. “Ha ha! Well sure, it happened a few times. In fact, one guy I knew, he was a history professor. He ended up dating one of his graduate students.”
“Really, huh? And what happened with that?”
“Oh well, they had to keep things secret, real quiet. But they're married now, and have been for about twenty years! So I guess it was the right thing for them to do. Ya know, true love and all that.”
“And, he's still at Florida State?”
“Oh, hell no. When they discovered that he was dating his student, the university offered the pair of them the following choices: they could end their relationship immediately, or if they refused, either he had to resign from his post or she had to quit her degree.”
My heart sank. “So the policy was definitely against them.”