Page 23 of Save the Game

Coach follows, rising fluidly and carefully placing the chair back where he got it. The line between us feels blurred, and I don’t know where we stand, now. He’s my coach—somebody in a very clear position of power over me; but now, he also feels like my family. He feels like the uncle you can talk to and trust not to rat you out to your parents. My arm swings toward him, as though my body is pulling the strings and not my mind. He sees the movement and smiles, kindly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

Relieved, I step forward into him and wrap my arms around his middle before I can think too hard about the implications of hugging Coach Mackenzie. He rests his arm across my shoulders, not holding me to him but not pushing me away either. He passes a hand down the back of my head, and my eyes prick with tears. I don’t hold onto him long, dropping my arms and stepping back as I clear my throat. This is turning out to be a strange fucking day.

“Thank you,” I tell him, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. It’s hard to look at him too long.

He picks up his own things and rests a hand on my shoulder once more, walking with me out the door and toward the exit. It’s already dark when we get outside; he gives my shoulder a quick squeeze, and squints into the darkness.

“You’ll be all right getting home?” He asks.

“Yeah. I’ll be all right. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

I watch him as he walks off, moving slowly. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I read the text from Luke one more time, bolstering myself. I tell myself that talking to Luke will be as cathartic as talking to Coach Mackenzie was, and that I’ll feel better once it’s done.

7

Luke

I’m so wired, I can’t sit still. The diner is fucking empty, the stocking is done, and everything is clean. My phone is resting on the counter, silently, and I am going out of my goddamned mind. Grabbing a rag, I spray down the counters just as Reggie comes out of the kitchen.

“Kid, that ain’t going to get any cleaner. What is wrong with you tonight?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re bouncing off of the walls. I’d suspect drugs, except you’re always a little bit,” he waggles his fingers and pulls a face, clearly meant to indicate insanity. I toss the wet rag at his face.

“You’re a dick.”

“And you need to calm down. What’s got you all worked up?”

“Nothing. Well, actually, no, it’s not nothing. Dating stuff.” I point a finger at him. “Shit I’m not going to talk to you about, in short.”

“Whatever, kiddo. This about that boy you get all glassy-eyed about,” he points toward the empty booth where Max sits, “every time he comes in?”

I stare at him. Reggie, for all his qualities that I like, has never given the impression of being particularly emotionally tuned. I scowl. “I don’t get glassy-eyed, what the fuck does that mean?”

“Mm,” he hums, leaning over to grab a glass from under the counter and walking over to fill it with soda. “You look at that kid like you’re starving and he’s your last meal.”

“All right, I think that’s quite enough from you, thank you.”

“No need to be embarrassed, it’s all right to have a crush.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, tapping the screen of my phone to make sure I haven’t missed any texts. Fuck it. “I was hoping he’d come tonight,” I admit. Reggie nods, smirking. I’d already brewed a pot of decaf coffee, which now makes me feel like an idiot.

“I’m going to go clean the bathrooms,” I say, because even that is better than standing around here doing nothing.

“I’d hold off on that, for now.”

“Why?” I ask, but he only raises his glass in a silent salute and brushes past me to the kitchen. “Reggie, what the fuck?—."

The bell over the front door chimes and I look over. Max—lovely, tousle-haired, sleepy-eyed Max—walks in, and I swear to god I almost cry in relief. I smile at him as I walk around the end of the counter.

“Holy shit, thank god,” I say, reaching out and pulling his face to me with my hands on his cheeks. He huffs a startled breath against my lips as I kiss him, and puts a hand on my waist. Leaning back, I move my hands from his face to his shoulders. “Hello, you.”

“Hi. Hello,” he responds, and I laugh.

“Hi, hello,” I mimic, and he rolls his eyes. Turning around, I raise my voice and call to the kitchen: “I’m taking my break.”

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