Page 16

Chapter 16

New Coach

Robyn

“ A lright, settle down, everyone,” Coach Bob announces as we all stand on the field after practice, panting from a hard fifteen minutes of touch rugby. “I have some exciting news.”

“Are we getting the rainbow kits?” Khaos beams.

“No,” Bob sighs. “That’s not what I’m here to talk about.”

“It’s June, Bob! Honestly, it’s homophobic for the Valor brand to not give us rainbow jerseys.”

“I’ll take it up with the board again,” he grumbles. “In the meantime,” he emphasizes, trying to get us all to focus, “the search is officially over. Please welcome your new head coach… Isaiah Johanssen.”

All at once, the air vanishes from my lungs, and I can’t feel my face. Isaiah walks onto the field with Coach Laura—well, former Head Coach Laura—and his eyes lock right onto mine. He’s wearing a team athletic polo, which does nothing to hide his broad, muscular shoulders and thick arms. Isaiah has always had a prop’s body—which is to say, he clearly works out but clearly likes to eat. Big and strong, he’s a boulder of a man. The kind of man that could toss you around like a rag doll. The kind of man that bear hugs were named for.

Why does he look so at peace? Why is he not squirming away like he’s done around me for the last few years? What is happening right now?

Serwaa leans in to whisper, “Babe, did you know about this?”

“No,” I whisper back. Serwaa knows about my long-standing feelings for him. She and I became fast friends when we joined the team the same year, and within just a few months of meeting, we had told each other our whole life stories. She’s never met Isaiah, but oh boy, has she seen pictures and heard me talk about him.

“Oh my god,” she drawls.

“Ladies and gentlethems,” Laura says, “I’d like you to meet your new head coach, Isaiah. Coach Johanssen here played rugby in high school and college, played Premier League for the London Hornets for three years, and has been playing Division 1 with Philadelphia up until this last spring. He’s gone through a rigorous interview process and background check. Needless to say, I’m very pleased with this placement. Give it up for Coach Johanssen!”

Like a sheep, I clap along with the rest of the team, but I’m so rocked to my core that I can’t hear it.

He looks damn good. I mean, he always does, but he’s so polished today. Even his dark beard is shiny and well-groomed.

“Hello, everyone,” he waves.

Laura continues, “We’ve been watching you all from the press box, and I’ve been running him through your positions, though,” she says with a smile, eyeing him, “he already knew all your names and positions, so that was helpful.”

Of course he does. Isaiah takes rugby seriously when he needs to. I may have met him as a carefree college rugger singing about titties, but he’s driven and educated. Oh god, he’s going to make an excellent coach.

My coach … fuck. There’s no way I can pursue him now. This isn’t some club team where there are no restrictions around players and coaches dating. This is his job. This is my job. Even a whisper of something brewing between us could dissolve brand deals and ignite media backlash. If we were together, we’d both lose our jobs.

Why didn’t he tell me he was applying?

“I know practice is almost over,” Laura says, pulling me out of my spiral. “But I’d like you all to take some time to get to know him. We’ll leave you to it.” She leaves with Coach Bob and everyone swarms Isaiah.

Serwaa is the first to speak up. “You’re friends with Birdie, aren’t you?” she asks knowingly, and my heart rate speeds up. I pinch her butt in response, but she swats at me.

“Yes,” he says. “Robyn and I met in college. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“How many siblings do you have?” Khaos asks next, and I’m grateful for the redirection.

“Um,” his brows furrow. “Four…”

“What’s the order?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Oh, it matters,” Khaos replies, folding her arms over her chest.

“I’m the second born.”

“But what’s the order?” she repeats.

Isaiah looks to me for clarity, and I have to giggle. It’s not that he’s confused about what the order is; he’s confused about why we’re even asking. I give him a shrug.

“I have an older sister, Angie, then me, then my brother Dane, Jonah, and little sister Ivy.”

“Ohhh,” a few players hum.

Casshole nods her head. “Older sister, nice.”

“His brothers also play for Philly’s D1 team,” I add.

“Thanks,” he says softly before another question pops up that leaves him even more confused. “Do y’all wanna know about my credentials?” Isaiah asks instead.

“We were just told,” Serwaa says. “Now we need to know the real shit. ”

“How do you feel about cats?” Skirt asks.

He crosses his arms. “What?”

“Zay,” I start, but correct myself. “I mean, Coach Johanssen,” I wince. That feels weird to say. “Just answer the questions. We’re a relentless bunch.”

He sighs and shrugs. “Yeah. Cats are cool.”

“What’s your sign?” Khaos asks.

“I don’t know sign language. But I know Spanish.”

“No, your astrological sign.”

He doesn't say anything and looks back at me again.

“Tell them when your birthday is, Coach,” I laugh.

“January 12th.”

“A Capricorn?” Khaos balks and pretends to faint against me.

“That’s a good thing,” I beam, shaking her shoulders. “That means he’s determined and hardworking. He’s organized and honest.”

“Sensitive,” Serwaa adds.

“Loyal.”

“Finally,” Cass grumbles. “I won’t be the only one anymore.”

“Do you have a partner? Or kids?” Skirt asks from the ground as she takes off her pink boots.

“No and no.”

My heart skips a beat at his answer. He’s going to find someone else now.

I would love to be the reason he answered ‘yes’ to that, but it’s not going to happen—I lost my chance with him. If there was ever a sign telling me he wasn’t interested, then this was it. Because Isaiah would have never taken this job if he wanted me. He wouldn’t have risked something between us if his feelings were mutual.

Dell’s voice slices through the fog. He still likes you.

Ha. Clearly, he did not know what he was talking about. I should have listened to my gut and given up on Isaiah. For the last six years, we’ve rarely seen each other, as much as I’ve tried. Granted, he was across the Atlantic Ocean for three of those years. When he came back, he was different. I know suffering from that shoulder injury cost him his spot with the Hornets, and I wish I could have been with him to help him through what was probably a dark time. Instead, our friendship suffered those three years. We were both focused on our rugby careers. It makes sense that the friendship we formed in college faded because of that. I just expected we’d pick back up when he got back here.

There were a few times I was able to corner him at rugby events, and while the words we spoke were those of friends, his body language was unfamiliar. He was jittery and flushed and kept pulling at the back of his neck. He barely spoke, and I was too tongue-tied to say anything meaningful.

It hurt to know our friendship was reduced to that, but now that he’s here and he’s my coach, maybe we can have a fresh start and rebuild.

The team peppers him with questions for the next fifteen minutes, and by the time practice is over and everyone heads to their cars, I’ve mustered enough courage to speak my mind.

“Zay,” I call, running over to him before he opens his car door. “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” he says, and that calm confidence is back. Where has that been hiding all these years? That’s the old Isaiah I remember and fell for. Not the cagey, hiding-in-the-shadows man I’ve come to know.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were applying?”

“I wanted to earn this on my own merit.”

Unable to stop myself, I let the thoughts tumble out. “How’s your shoulder and neck? Angie told me all about it.”

At that, he rotates his shoulder. “I can’t play anymore, but it’s a lot better.” He swallows. “Dell’s been helping a lot. ”

Guilt digs its sharp claws into my gut at the mention of our mutual…friend? “So you quit your security job?”

“Yeah. I’m finishing up this week. I already hired someone to replace me.”

“Listen,” I sigh, doing my best to calm my nerves. “About Saturday night—”

“It’s okay.”

“No. Why didn’t you tell me you worked there? I would have liked to see you. I go there a lot.”

“I know.”

Suddenly, my throat constricts slightly and an unexpected sting forms behind my eyes. I can do this; I can speak my mind. “Why have you been avoiding me?” I ask, unable to fight the tremble in my voice. “What have I done to you?”

“Nothing,” he replies quickly. “I—I’m sorry. I just wanted you to be happy and safe.”

“Safe? Why wouldn’t I be safe? And I’d be a lot happier if we could be the kind of friends we used to be.”

Isaiah pulls at the back of his neck. “A lot has changed since college, hasn’t it?”

I nod.

“Can we start over?”

A clean slate sounds amazing. Maybe if we do this, I can get my friend back. Maybe if we do this, I can go back to a time when Isaiah was just a friend and no more—before my feelings ran deeper and my desires ran rampant. I can hope, can’t I? It’s all I have now that he’s my coach. There’s no trading to a different team because rugby isn’t like professional sports. There aren’t multiple teams to get drafted to. Short of moving to another country to play, I’m stuck here with Isaiah Johanssen as my coach.

It’s time to start fresh.

“Yeah, we can start over,” I smile, and weirdly enough, a peaceful weight covers me. The corner of his mouth curls up, and suddenly I can see twenty-year-old Isaiah, the day I met him.

A small, surprised grunt escapes him when I launch myself into his arms for a long-overdue hug.

“I missed you, Zay.”

His responding squeeze is delayed, but it blankets me in comfort. I’ve missed his strong arms. I’ve missed his scent, but it’s a little different now. Is that coconut and almond? Rosemary?

Shamelessly, I take an exaggerated inhale. “Why do you smell so good?”

His chest shakes as he chuckles, and he pulls away to shoot his baby blues into mine. “It’s my beard oil.”

“I’m obsessed,” I groan.

“Easy, killer,” he smiles, and we break apart.

I missed this. I missed us. I can live with being just friends if it means he’s himself with me again. A smiling Isaiah was always my favorite. If being my coach is the only way I could have this version of him again, then I’ll take it. The comfort of his friendship outweighs my struggle.

For now.