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21

Lennon

F or once, I wish Grace would’ve stuck around to watch tape with me and Coach Holloway. It’s been a few days since he blew me off at practice, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what shifted between us.

And what I did alone in my bedroom the night after? Long forgotten. But it still doesn’t make sense to me. During the game last weekend, he was present and engaged and…excited for me. Every time I glanced over at the bench, his eyes were always on me.

Then in practice that day he shut me down and has been cold ever since. Even during our one-on-ones, he’s kept chatter to a minimum and turned into a drill sergeant in the weight room. My aching thighs and back are a testament to the rigorous training he’s been putting my body through.

But Grace had a final this morning and was excused. I stayed up way too late last night, cramming to get a stupid paper done for my Interpersonal Communications class and was tempted to skip out this morning. But we haven’t had a chance to review the game footage from my shutout, and I’ve been excited to watch it back. So now, I get to sit here in suffocating silence in Luke’s office with him.

The computer monitor is turned sideways with the footage playing. But I’d be lying if I said I’ve been paying any attention to it at all. It’s impossible to.

Not with Luke sitting at his desk across from me, hair pushed back from his forehead like he’s been running his fingers through it all day. His hand is fisted as he rests his chin against it, staring intently at the screen and never turning his eyes toward me. He’s in a blue Huskies long sleeve today, and the material is tight around his chest, biceps, and shoulders. Like come on, he had to have known what he’s doing when he picked it out.

He speeds past the footage where our team is in the other zone and slows it back down every time Westlake regains possession and brings it back to my end of the ice. But he never speaks.

Not when I step out of the crease to keep a play going like he had told me. Not when I manage to stop two rebounds in a row. Nothing.

His jawline is sharp and rigid, as if it’d be painful for him to open his mouth and speak. The air in his small office grows stifling, and I take a sip from my water bottle. It cools down my throat and relieves some of the burn inside of me that only seems to grow stronger every time I’m around him.

I didn’t want to be the first one to crack, seeing as he seems to be the one with the problem, but I can’t take it anymore. Not even the sound from the tape is enough to distract my racing mind.

“Do you have any feedback for me?” I ask, voice scratchy from sitting in silence for so long.

Luke simply shakes his head, not taking his eyes off the footage.

“Seriously?”

“What do you want me to say?”

I sputter. “I thought we were past this.”

“Past what?” He speaks in that old, monotone way of his, and I hate it.

“You not caring about your job. Not even trying,” I spit.

Finally, those dark eyes slowly turn toward me and pin me back against the chair. “Did you ever stop to think that me trying to keep conversation to a minimum between us, is me caring about my job?”

I chew on that for a moment, but it doesn’t make sense. If he cares about my success, he needs to be able to communicate with me. Not regress back to how we once were. “We still need to talk,” I argue. “If you’re not going to give me any sort of direction or feedback, then what’s the point in caring about your job if I’m going to fail?”

He looks pointedly at the film, where I make another block. “You’re not failing.”

That simple affirmation from him brings back a small ounce of pride I felt after the game.

“Thank you,” I murmur, averting my gaze.

“If you keep it up, and so does the team, you’ll get your goal.”

The championship. It seems so far away, but yet the months are passing me by. This entire semester has flown by. Time seems to move quickly when you don’t have much of it.

“Are you going to the family skate and fundraising gala?” I pivot the conversation, not wanting to get ahead of myself, and because he seems to be thawing slightly.

He hesitates, his mouth opening before he seems to think better of something, and simply says, “Yes. Are you?”

“Mhmm.”

“I didn’t think the team participated since it’s over winter break?”

“They don’t. Only two seniors are usually asked to be there as representatives for the team, so Aubrey and I were asked to be there this year.”

It’s a great event for the school. It draws in members of the community with a family skate at our hockey rink, allowing free ice time for anyone who comes. Then later in the evening, at the Dean’s house, which is more like a mansion, there’s a charity gala. Haulton has some wealthy alumni, and typically each year whatever money we raise for the charity, they match for our hockey programs for putting it on.

The tradition started long before I was a student here, but it’s Coach Maver’s pride and glory.

“So you’ll be around for the break? I’m asking because I was planning on giving you some time off of our practices, since Alice says she gives you guys three weeks.” He sounds disgusted at the rest Coach grants us, and I stifle a smile.

“No,” I tell him. “I’m only going home for a few days for Christmas, but otherwise I’ll be here. So if you’re around, I’d like to keep up our workouts.”

He nods once. “I thought you might want to spend the break with your boyfriend .”

This is the second time he’s insinuated that. “Why do you think I have a boyfriend?”

He gives me a dull look. “They may have their issues, but my eyes still see enough.”

I cross my arms, growing irritated. “And what exactly did they see?”

“You celebrating with him after the game,” he says evenly and shuffles a few papers around on his desk.

It clicks. Mason and his teammates coming to our last game, and him kissing me afterwards. It took me by surprise, mostly because we hadn’t been physical in any way for awhile, but I was too excited to say anything in the moment to him. Plus, surrounded by our friends, it wasn’t the right time. I was able to brush him off afterwards, which then led to his little breaking and entering stint, but obviously, Luke doesn’t know that. Why would he?

“It’s really none of your business.” The pen in my grip strains as I grip it tightly.

“It’s not,” he agrees, but his expression is pinched.

A sliver of something tickles the back of my mind. Maybe it’s delusion, or maybe it’s hope. Either way, I feed into it as I ask carefully, “Are you jealous?”

Wrong thing to say.

Luke’s eyes narrow on me, and his lip curls slightly as he spits, “And why exactly would I be jealous? I’m your coach.”

“I—”

“I don’t know what sort of ideas you have in your head after I let you use my guest room, but let’s get one thing straight. I broke the rules once for you, but it’s not going to happen again. If you want to report me to Alice, fine, go ahead. But unless you’re going to, you need to forget that even happened. I’m your coach, and nothing more. So I don’t give a fuck what or who you do in your free time. Got it?”

It would’ve hurt less if I got smacked in the face with a puck. The venom in his voice burns my skin like all my nerves are exposed. I sit in stunned silence for a moment, just staring at him, unable to form a response.

He looks back down at his desk and busies himself with something on his phone. His clear dismissiveness of me adds salt to the wound, but I refuse to sit here and let him see the way his words affected me. Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I blink them away.

Forget about watching the rest of the game. Standing, I shoulder my backpack and stride toward the door on unsteady feet. “See you later, Coach .”

Without even bothering to look up, he says, “You’d do good to remember that.”