Page 3 of Bump and Run

Our teammates linger around with sodas and plates stacked with burgers and chips. Ty instantly darts over to grab his own plate while I stand back, taking in the moment.

I’m in Cary Pierce’s backyard.

“Hey, Junior.”

A light hand brushes my shoulder and I lock eyes with Bob, our assistant coach. He’s been around the university for nearly as long as Duncan was. “Hey,” I greet him.

He chuckles at my expression. “Bit of a shock, eh?”

“More than a bit!” I laugh. “I thought for sure you’d be our new coach.”

Bob waves his hand. “With this old mug? Nah… I mean, I did, too, but when the school board called me about this… I didn’t argue with it. It’s what’s right for you boys.”

I nod. It hasn’t sunk in at all yet. Cary Pierce is our new coach.

“Hey, guys!” Pierce’s voice booms across the lawn, instantly grabbing our attention. He claps his hands together and scans the crowd, making sure to make eye contact with each one of us. “I can tell by the looks on your faces that I don’t have to introduce myself or list off my qualifications. But who I am isn’t important — you are. It’s an honor to meet you all. I look forward to getting some one-on-one time with each of you and, hopefully, being the coach you deserve.”

Ty nudges my ribs, practically giggling to himself with a full plate of fried food. I have no idea how any of them can eat right now. I can hardly even breathe.

“I’m coming in a little late here,” Pierce goes on. “The semester has already started and your first game is this Saturday. It was unfortunate to hear about your old coach. From what I’ve been told, he was a good man but from every tragedy comes opportunity. You know, when I told people I was moving here to be your coach, they looked at me and asked — Why? You’re Cary Pierce. You can coach anywhere you want. Why go to that school? They’re just a bunch of losers.”

I glance around, feeling the air shift and team’s morale plummets. We won one game last season and even less than that the year before. The term loser is more spot-on than we’d care to admit.

“No talent, no wins,” Pierce says. “You know what I said? I said they were right. You are a bunch of losers…” He glances around again, letting it all sink in on us. “But so was I. When I played college ball, I was nothing. We were nothing. We had stats not so different than yours right now. Then one day, a new coach came to town and changed everything. He trained us harder than we’d ever thought possible. He motivated us to not only change our minds about how we saw ourselves but to change everyone else’s mind as well. I want you to let me be that coach for you.”

I feel a boost of confidence, one I haven’t felt before in my entire life. The rest of the team stands a little taller, too.

“We went all the way to the top that season and the next one and the next one and this season, I’m going to do the same for you. My old coach died two years ago. Before that happened, I made a promise to change a few lives just like he did. I want to start with yours. How does that sound?”

The team erupts with shouts and applause, myself clapping louder than anyone.

Cary Pierce, our new coach. It’s a dream come true, an absolute fairy tale made a reality.

“All right!” he shouts, clapping with us. “I like the enthusiasm!”

I expected this semester to be awful in many ways. My classes aren’t great and I wasn’t planning on the team doing much better than last season, but now, with Cary freakin’ Pierce leading the charge…

We might end this year as gods.

Movement draws my eye towards the house, along with a sudden flash of light as the kitchen fluorescents flick on. A shape passes by the windows, short and petite with feminine curves. She rounds the island counter towards the refrigerator and my breath catches in my throat.

I step towards the house, my gaze locked on her body. She wears tight yoga pants and a baggy sweater that hangs off one shoulder. Her bare feet glide along the floor with bright, pink-colored toes. Long, brown hair sits on top of her head in a sloppy bun.

Complete, casual elegance.

I slide the outer door open to walk into the kitchen and she spins around with two bottles of water in her hands. I gulp my saliva down as her stunning, blue eyes flash at me.

“Hey—” I choke.

“Hi,” she says, kicking the fridge door closed.

“Who are you?”

She raises a brow. “Excuse me?”

“I mean…” I step closer to the counter. “I’m Junior.”

“Junior of what?”

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