Page 109 of Whistle

Madison: Which is?

Jamie: There she is. Baby girl, you must be tired ‘cause you been running through my mind all day.

Madison: *eye roll emoji* Like Rory, I thought there was an Elite 911. But here you all are. Talking about sex.

Wes: Coach’s bad attitude def counts as an Elite 911.

Prism: I think I might need a trauma latte for practice if he keeps it up.

Kruger: You know it’s bad when P uses words in the group chat.

Arsen: Is it that bad, princess? I’ll take care of it.

Prism: *bear emoji*

Landry: Maybe Dad could use a night out…

Ryan: I have an idea.

Ryan: I’ve got this.

Jamie: Fix it up, bro!

24

Coach (Emmett)

Knock-knock! My knuckles stung from the quick, aggressive way I smacked them into the heavy door leading to the dean’s office.

“It’s open,” a muffled voice invited from the other side.

I let myself in, closing the door behind me. “Philip, you wanted to see me,” I said in lieu of greeting.

It wasn’t unusual to get a call from Dean Cardinal, as he was the head of Westbrook University and Elite was its biggest pride.

“Emmett,” he said, greeting me by my first name just as I had him. When no one else was present, we always greeted the other casually because long before he became the dean and I the coach, we’d been students here. At one time, roommates and friends.

I wouldn’t not call him a friend these days. We were more colleagues than anything. Funny how, at one time, we were on the same path, but now our lives couldn’t be more different.

Philip had a wife and kids, a dog, and a picket fence in the nicest part of town. He played pickleball on the weekends and sailed in the summer at the country club. He was your typical alumni and lived what most people probably considered the American dream.

And then there was me.

Single. Never married. A cardboard box for a coffee table. A shitty coffeemaker in the kitchen and a daughter I had to fight her mother (who I never married) to see before she moved in with me last year.

“Have a seat,” Philip offered, gesturing to one of the chairs on the other side of his desk. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No thanks.” I declined. As I said, it wasn’t unusual to get called in here for Elite updates, but something felt off.

Or maybe it was just me. Either way, I was on edge. Had been the entire week since Bodhi moved into the dorm room Rush had given him. I knew I’d told him I needed some time to work things out, but having him gone from my house the very same day had been jarring. Especially after the night we’d spent together.

So many times, I’d had to stop myself from going to his room and pounding on the door, demanding to be let in. But I couldn’t. What if someone saw me? Heard me?

I thought maybe he’d come to me.

He didn’t.

I couldn’t say he was avoiding me, though. He came to practice even if he had to sit his Speedo-covered ass on the bleachers every morning. He was going to classes. I knew because I called his professors and checked. Overall, he was being good. Too good.

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