Page 12 of Coaching Prince Charming

But I just couldn’t catch him again.

During practice, he was surrounded by assistant coaches and other players. In the mornings, he was always gone before I arrived at the gym. So, by the end of the week, I made a new decision. I would start working out an hour earlier.

The first morning of my brand-new routine was like being splashed with a bucket of icy water while sleeping in a soft, warm bed. I grumbled and dragged my sorry ass out of bed, brushed my teeth, washed my face, and trudged to the gym while only the barest hints of pale golden light were visible in the east. When I got there, more ice water awaited. Nate didn’t show up.

“Cut down,” he’d told me. He probably wasn’t coming every day, but I would have to if I wanted to run into him privately again. And when we met each other again, I would have to act like it was a pure accident and not a carefully concocted plan.

I sighed and did my workout to the psychedelic hits of the last century. They were all bangers that lifted my mood and, at times, made my fingers move as if I were playing the epic guitar solos.

After that first morning, my new schedule didn’t get any easier. Juggling gym, drills, studies, and some guitar practice hours was a challenge when all I ever wanted to do was nap, snack, and fuck. The last one was a miserable miss, to be sure, but it did nothing to curb my drive.

After a week of knowing with total certainty that Nate was out there, sleeping with men, my anger simmered perpetually in the daytime, but my dick stirred while I slept. More than before, those annoying mid-sleep hard-ons woke me up. Being a belly sleeper was extra inconvenient. It started feeling as though I was trapped in an enchanted circle; frustration fueled my late-night arousals, which then frustrated me beyond belief. It was only a question of when I would explode.

Some two weeks after the gym encounter, I still hadn’t run into Nate in the mornings, and I suspected that he had changed gyms. That evening, the drills were particularly hard. Coach Partridge, who was a much sterner person than the sweet, sexy Nate I dreamed of, was riding my ass in all the ways that weren’t fun. He had me playing center, and the offensive was not my cup of tea; he paired me with different players every time, even though I had a good thing with Ron in drills; he even singled me out for putting on my gear incorrectly one time. The last one was an embarrassing error I couldn’t deny. I also couldn’t tell anyone the true reason. While putting on the gear, I had been daydreaming about my coach, and some of the straps didn’t fit the right way.

In short, the time that followed the greatest discovery of my life was pretty much total misery. I should have been happy that Nate was gay. At least in theory, that should have made me hopeful. But in practice, it made me distracted and jealous. And the worst thing was that Nate’s knowing had pushed him even further away from me.

Part of my heart wished he was actually straight. Longing after him and knowing I would never have a chance hurt ever so slightly less than the thought that I had pushed him away.

It crossed my mind once, briefly, that it was possible Nate didn’t know I’d found him on Grindr. Perhaps he had just found my profile and blocked me for the simple fact that he found me unattractive. In his eyes, I was probably just his best friend’s kid and nothing else. He likely couldn’t imagine what a giant he was in my life. He had no idea how deeply he had touched me so many times as I was growing up, and not just by being my awakening but with his kindness, too. When Dad had grumbled about my poor performance on the ice one time, Nate had scolded him for hurting my self-esteem.

Who else could I have fallen in love with after that?

After practice, I showered and waited for others to leave. I put on clean underwear in the shower, which I always did, and finished dressing up in the locker room. Then, slowly, I carried my duffel down the hallway until I neared Nate’s office. His door was partially open, and no sounds came from the other side of the door.

I dared myself to enter his office. It made my heart skip a beat. I stepped inside and found Nate Partridge all alone. He looked away from his computer screen and into my eyes. He was so stiff in his chair that I could tell he was uncomfortable. “Hey, Coach,” I said.

“Prince,” he replied. “What can I do for you?”

I shut the door behind my back without asking. “I just wanted to say sorry,” I said. You were right to call me out on tardiness.”

Nate frowned a little. As he leaned back, he seemed just as uncomfortable. It was crazy how out of place he looked in here. “I never thought of you as amateurish, Prince.”

I bit my lower lip and winced. After a moment of hesitation, I said, “I wish you wouldn’t call me Prince when nobody’s around.”

He forced a chuckle. “Now you sound like Partridge.” He meant Beckett, of course, and it made perfect sense. “I am your coach, for better or worse.”

I crossed my arms on my chest because he didn’t invite me to sit down, and I didn’t want to presume that much. “I have a sense you’re not too happy with that,” I said.

Nate snapped his mouth shut and lifted his eyebrows briefly. I wondered if that was a smile he was fighting to hold back. “What gave me away?”

This was a dangerous conversation to get into. My heart thumped faster as I licked my lips. Did he know what this sounded like? Did he do it on purpose? “You’re doing a great job, Nate,” I said softly.

Nate put his hands on the desk and pushed himself up to his feet. Slowly, he came around the desk and sat on its edge, crossing his arms like me but making it appear a lot more casual. He was so tall that even when he was sitting at the edge of the desk, our gazes were level. “Why are you here, Prince?”

I pressed my lips together for a moment. “I guess I just wanted to say how much I appreciate what you’re doing for this team.”

He nodded slowly, never taking his gaze off my face. His arms were so muscular that he couldn’t hide the biceps under the hoodie. The sight made me work for air against the pressure that mounted on my chest. But Nate just shrugged. “And what are you doing here, at Northwood?”

“What do you mean?” Was that defensive? A little bit. But the question stung. It stung because I knew precisely what he meant.

“You’re immensely talented, Carter, yet you’re making newbie mistakes almost every day.” He wasn’t saying anything. Instead, he let me say it.

I hesitated only a moment, then remembered that Nate was the guy who’d had my back so many times before. Sure, he’d always done it as an adult to a child, but he had to know I wasn’t a child anymore. He had to see me as more than that. If anything, he would understand that my troubles were beyond a child’s. “Maybe you’re not the only one doing something he doesn’t want to,” I suggested.

Nate swallowed and looked at the floor. “Does Dana know you feel this way?”

I snorted with pure contempt. “He does, he doesn’t; it makes no difference.”

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