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Gio flips them off. “Vete al infierno.” He loves to tell the others to go to hell during their fantasy league tournaments. This year, he’s stuck with a bunch of Seattle’s injury-plagued players.

Sebastian looks out of a window. The sun’s a heavy flare dropping behind the trees.

Zach goes on about a pretty girl he’s dating. It sounds promising, according to Zach’s standards. He jostles Sebastian with an elbow, then says, “She’s got a friend for you, bro. Remember Amelia?”

Sebastian shrugs. He vaguely recalls sharing a class, not that they talked. He scoops peas into his mouth to avoid responding.

“She’s pretty,” Willie mentions.

Yeah, thanks, Will!

“See,” Zach says, pointing his fork at Sebastian, “the gays approve.” His voice isn’t mocking, and Willie sits tall as if he’s accomplished something. He’s a traitor, and Sebastian considers stealing back his garlic bread.

“Who has time for dramatic romances?” Mason drums his hands on the table. “Definitely not me.”

Sebastian is thankful the attention is off of him and his nonexistent romantic life.

This time, Zach derides Mason, asking, “So you and Val aren’t hooking up this year?” When Mason hesitates, Zach lifts his eyebrows. He chugs his Red Bull.

Mason argues, “I didn’t say that—”

“Slow down, Zach,” Carl, another defenseman with jackal eyes and a blond crewcut, sneers. “He’s saving himself for Coach’s daughter, remember?”

Zach and half the team laugh. He snaps his fingers; his eyes are lit. “That’s right! You and Grey?”

Mason scowls, scratching his nose. “Knock it off, dude. I have no interest in—”

“Where is the brat, anyway?” Smith asks Mason.

“How am I supposed to know?” Mason nearly shouts, but his throat tightens around the last word. He glares at Willie, who chokes and laughs simultaneously. Mason probably isn’t against burying Willie’s body somewhere in the woods at this point.

Sebastian’s about to interfere, but—

“I’m here! I’m here! Sorry I’m late!”

Well, there goes saving Mason’s ass.

A girl with floppy bronze curls, pink cheeks, and bright emerald eyes runs breathlessly to the coaches’ table. She’s wearing a wrinkled BHS Lions T-shirt, denim shorts, and dirty Chuck Taylor All Stars.

Coach Patrick gazes at her with a smile. “It’s okay,” he says gruffly.

“Hi, Coach,” she says with a wink. She pecks a kiss to his cheek. He gives her one of those one-armed half-hugs. When she pulls back, Sebastian can see that the entire team is watching.

Sebastian can’t control his own grin when he sizes her up. GracefreakingPatrick, the Coach’s stepdaughter, doesn’t look much different than the twelve-year-old soccer fan who used to follow the team from match to match. Back then, she carried a mini-clipboard in her skinny arms, trying to play field general like her stepfather.

“You’ve got an audience, Grace,” Coach Patrick says with a chuckle.

She wrinkles her nose. No one calls her Grace but Coach. The last guy who did got kneed in the balls. She goes by Grey. “Grace is for princesses,” she told Sebastian once, “and I’m a soccer brat, through and through. No pink dresses and tiaras for me.”

Sebastian respected her wishes because, besides being a wannabe coach, Grey is a phenomenal soccer player. But she’s not interested in playing. Grey prefers observing from the sidelines, and carrying a pretty gnarly crush on Mason.

“Grey,” she mumbles under her breath.

Coach gives her a meaningful look and pats her hip.

When she sees Sebastian, her dimples show. She’s taller, more statuesque, than when she was twelve. Then she finds Mason, who is noticeably tense.

“Love is in the air,” Zach sings softly.