Page 41 of The Underdog

He tilts his head in thought, shrugging as he speaks. “I taught you what it means to earn your way onto a team.”

I purse my lips. “Well, you haven’t approved of a single one of my ideas.”

“They’re not bad when they don’t involve a strip tease and an overplayed radio song.” Again, he defends himself.

I roll my eyes. “Well, what about when you hurt yourself the other day, huh?!”

My outburst causes us both to stop abruptly in place…again.

Like a metaphor, now, as we’re finally in the heat of the conversation, we reach the center of the pitch.

“What about it?” Warren chews on his bottom lip in concentration, causing a lump to form in my throat at the sight of it. He makes it insanely difficult to stay frustrated at times.

I hug myself in response, though as I do, I’m reminded of the fact that it’s still Warren’s jacket that engulfs me. Suddenly, there’s a familiar scent in the fabric that tells me I shouldn’t be feeling anything for this man.

I force the thought out of my mind. I have to before I say something else I regret tonight.

“I…” I stutter as he glances at me impatiently, waiting for me to finish my sentence. “I was just trying to help you, Warren, and you totally gave me the cold shoulder. I don’t think I deserved that.”

He runs his hand along his forehead in thought before he takes a seat on the field. For a second, I question his movement before he waves me over. “Come.” He gestures, almost as if he’s extending his hand to help me down. “Sit.”

Normally, the thought of sitting on the ground would earn a grimace and a resounding “no” from me, but at Warren’s request, I find myself kneeling before I know it.

We sit in silence for a moment until, finally, he speaks back up. “Listen, Delaney.” His tone is sincere. “I didn’t mean to be so short with you the other day.” The words appear to get tangled in his mouth as he says them. “So…let’s try and forget that happened. Alright?”

“Short?” I repeat, refusing to let this go so easily. “You were non-existent.” I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my head on top of them. “Is this what you call an apology,Coach?”

For a split second, I see his eyes darken as he holds my gaze. All the while, the muscles in his jaw visibly tighten and then release. “Why do you keep calling me that?” he sucks in a controlled breath before I watch him deeply swallow.

Had I been? Oh…I hadn’t noticed.

I slyly lift my head up despite the fluttering that erupts in my stomach from his glance. “Why do you ask?” I challenge. “Does it bother you?”

I can see the rise and fall of his chest as he contemplates his response. I know he wants to say something. It’s like I can see it lingering on the tip of his tongue. Instead, it’s what he really says that surprises me much more.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is softer than normal—with a deep-rooted sense of remorse. Yet, I can’t help but wonder if his simple response is a calculated way to avoid the answer to my original question.

I raise my eyebrows expectantly. “For?”

He shoots me a glare, evidently fed up with my games, as he leans back onto his hands. “I’m not gonna spell it out for you, Delaney. You know what I’m trying to say.”

I mimic his motion, feeling the dampness of the grass stick to my hands. “Why?” My attitude seethes through my tone. “Can’t spell?”

He subtly shakes his head, the faintest laughter breaking free from his usually stern lips. It’s a beautiful sight. He’s a beautiful sight. “You’re cheeky. You know that?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek to suppress a smile. “And you’re terrible at apologies. You know that?”

He looks at me softly, opening his mouth to speak when the stadium goes dark all at once—now, the only light source is the moonlight above us. Yet, even amidst the darkness, I can still see that blue gleam radiating from Warren’s eyes.

“Shit.” Warren attempts to stand up. “Sometimes that happens—I don't know why the generator didn’t kick in. I’ll go and re-boot?—”

“It’s fine,” I cut him short. “Stay…sit.”

Somehow, he does at my request, comfying himself on the ground, and this time, I can’t help but notice how he’s sat down just that bit closer to me.

God. I’ve never had him all to myself for such an extended period of time. A part of me wishes I could reach out andtouch him—actually feel the warmth of his skin for myself as it makes its way directly onto mine.

---