Page 14 of Under the Lights (The Big Boys of BRU #2)

Thirteen

Sierra

By the time finals rolled around, I was doing everything I could to avoid people. Since I’d confronted Jas a couple of weeks ago, I’d changed my routine.

Every morning, I left home at dawn, studied at the library all day, and didn’t return until late at night, going straight to my room.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand again. Another text from Jasmine.

Jas: u coming to the mixer tomorrow? we still need someone to do the sign-in sheet :)

I stared at it for a second too long, trying to decide if she’d really just slapped a smiley face on that like nothing had happened.

Another buzz.

Jas: idk why you’re being so dramatic about this. seriously.

And then:

Jas: you’re making it into a whole thing when it doesn’t have to be. just chill.

I locked the screen without replying. The pit in my stomach twisted tighter. She was either pretending none of it mattered or trying to convince me it didn’t. As if I’d imagined it all.

I knew what I had to do, what I wanted to do, but it was a matter of preparation. To rush into it would get me nowhere. Things couldn’t go on like this forever — that much was clear.

Sooner or later, one straw would break the camel’s back.

***

My stomach twisted into knots as I pulled into the parking lot. Restless energy filled my body, as if every cell were vibrating. Thoughts shot through my head at lightning speed, turning and twisting into a maelstrom of chaos.

The world felt too loud, too overwhelming, forcing me to act out of character to cope. Texts sat unread in my inbox, my to-do list grew, and my nerves felt like exposed live wires.

It was a wonder my eye hadn’t started twitching yet. I felt like one of those overbred chihuahuas, literally vibrating on the spot.

I loved my job, and usually, I was so grateful to be able to do what I do. But today … today, my feet moved more slowly, somewhat sluggishly, as I trudged toward the local community gym.

My so-called sisters were stealing money from charity — yet I was supposed to move on with my life, to teach little girls how to high-five after a serve.

The soft light of the setting sun cast an orange glow on the glass door as I pulled it open to step inside. Immediately I was greeted by the sound of whistles echoing through the space and the smell of rubber soles on polished floors.

I blinked rapidly to adjust to the bright lights overhead, which did nothing to help with the slight headache that had been building all day. As I cast a look around, the bleachers were mostly empty. I set my water bottle down with a soft clink, followed by my bag.

As I straightened up again, a squealed “Sierra!” was the only warning I got before skinny arms wrapped around my middle in a fierce hug, knocking the wind out of me ever so slightly.

The shift inside of me was immediate and palpable.

My worries from just moments before were forgotten. All those grown-up problems and issues shifted to the background, as one of my girls, Lila, peered up at me, grinning happily. The chatter of the rest of the team, following behind her, cut straight through the noise polluting my head.

I’d been coaching a girls’ volleyball team, ages eight to twelve, ever since the end of my freshman year. An opportunity I not only cherished but which also provided me the extra money I needed for anything my scholarships didn’t cover.

Lila had been particularly shy when she started playing, and it took me weeks to draw her out of her shell — but it was so fucking worth it. Seeing the beaming smiles of those little girls and their joy for this sport made warmth spread through my chest.

Their energy was infectious, and their trust was grounding. Betrayal and fake invoices were foreign concepts to them. Their world still made sense.

“Good to see you too, Lila. You ready?” I smiled as she untangled her gangly arms from around me, nodding enthusiastically.

After making them run and stretch to warm up, we started practicing serves, some of which were more graceful than others. I rolled the cart filled with volleyballs to where I had them lined up.

I clapped to get their attention. “Alright, girls. Let’s see …

Lila, Mia, aaand the four of you over there,” tossing one of the older girls a ball, I pointed them out, “move to the other side of the court. I want you to work on your passing. Keep the ball in the air as long as possible. We’re looking for long rallies, okay? ”

Nods and a chorus of “Yes!” and “Got it” rang out before they moved noisily to the opposite side of the court.

I turned toward the remaining girls. Some on the team were still embarrassed about their abilities, so I tried to have them perform either simultaneously or while the others were occupied.

“Alright, let’s give this a try. We’re working on our serves today.

I want to see a consistent toss, proper arm swings, and solid contact with the ball.

Ready? Go.” I blew my whistle, and the gym was immediately filled with the sound of little hands smacking the synthetic leather, sending the balls bouncing in every direction.

“Can I serve it like they do on TV? With the jump and the spin?”

Kate’s eyes widened with delight as she looked up at me. She was practically vibrating with excitement.

I snorted, shaking my head in amusement, before giving her a wide smile. “You can try, but if you land in a split again, your mama’s going to come for me.”

“That was one time.” She said, rolling her eyes at me.

“Uh-huh. One very memorable time.”

Kate shrugged, obviously unimpressed. As I walked along the line, I corrected their form and offered pointers.

“Oh wow, Paige! That was amazing. Good work!”

Every time one of my girls experienced a success, even if it was just the tiniest improvement, my body flooded with genuine excitement. I knew from experience how important it was to be cheered for, so I tried my hardest to make them feel good about themselves and their efforts.

I blew my whistle to garner the girls’ attention. “Alright, let’s collect the balls, put them back in the cart, and then we’ll switch.”

A sharp, little finger poked right into my ribs, making me yelp in surprise.

“Coaaaach,” Valentina whined. “My shoes are cursed.”

“Did you anger a volleyball spirit or just forget to double-knot?” I arched my brows.

She threw her arms in the air, clearly at the end of her rope. “I don’t know! I just ran, and they attacked me!”

I nodded emphatically. “Classic shoelace ambush. You gotta stay ready.”

Dropping to my knees, I tied her laces, making sure to double-knot them this time.

“There you go.” I lifted my gaze to hers, warmth spreading through my chest as she met my smile with a genuine one of her own.

“Thanks, Coach Sierra,” she crowed, before running off again.

After the other group ran through the serving drill, I called the whole group over to me again.

“Alright, girls. Time to work on our setting-”

“Setting?” One of the youngest girls asked, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Like a tea party?”

Giggles erupted around us, and I had to bite back a smile.

“No, honey. Setting, as in passing the ball to one of your teammates so we can set up for an attack.”

“Oh!” She blushed, clearly embarrassed. Wanting to avoid anyone making fun of her unnecessarily, I continued with my explanation of the exercise we’d be running through.

They were chaos, absolute chaos. But it was pure . Unfiltered. And with everything crumbling around me, this was just the reminder I needed.

Watching them run through the setting drill from the sideline, I realized that this was the only place I’d felt completely at ease in the past couple of weeks.

Here, at least, it felt like I still mattered and made an impact.

I enjoyed the way they looked at me. Like I knew things. Like I was steady, someone they admired. If only they knew what my life really looked like these days…

Valentina waved wildly from across the gym. “Coach Sierra! Look, I got it over the net this time!”

With some effort, I managed to muster a big, genuine smile, even if it ached a little.

“You crushed it, Valentina. I’m so proud of you.”

Just as practice wrapped up, my phone, tucked into the waistband of my shorts, buzzed briefly against my hip. I had an idea who it might be. My jaw clenched as I tugged the device out from under my shirt and tossed it into my bag, not bothering to check it.

Unease tinged with fury had my stomach in knots, but I pushed it down and forced the smile to stay in place.

“Okay, girls! Come over here, please.”

As they formed a loose half-circle around me, I pulled a container out of my bag. Delighted squeals rang out as I opened it, and I grinned from ear to ear. I loved spoiling these girls.

“Listen up! I’ve got enough brownies here for everyone, so no squabbling. Each of you can grab one on your way out, okay?”

A chorus of enthusiastic “Thank you, Coach Sierra”s and enthusiastic agreement rang toward me. The soles of their sneakers squeaked as they hastily scrambled to grab a brownie. I’d gotten up even earlier than usual to bake them before anyone else woke up.

I took malicious, petty pleasure in knowing that the entire sorority house woke up to the delicious scent of chocolate throughout the building, only to discover there were no baked goods to be found.

Because they sure as hell didn’t deserve my kick-ass brownies, finished with a sprinkling of edible glitter because, why not?

My sparkle might be dulled at the moment, but my volleyball girls definitely deserved it.

I lingered for a moment, watching them giggle and file out. As I returned their waves and smiles, I felt a bit better about myself. Seeing those girls today had helped me to realize that not everything completely sucked.

Not the entire fucking world was evil. Grabbing my duffel, I took a deep breath and walked back into the chaos waiting outside the gym doors.

***