Page 107 of The Problem with Players

She pointed the bat toward me. “But he’s not the only one who thinks that way. Do you know I spent all the years before being told that stuff? I worked under a misogynistic head coach for years, Erikson, who would’ve laughed it off with Frank. I’d been told countless times not to get my panties in a frenzy whenever some crap happened. I was told countless times by Coach Erikson to”—she made quotations with her fingers—“take a walkwhenever I was being disrespected. Do you know how belittling that is? I was the only woman on the field and the only Black coach being told to take a walk because I was too much.”

I began walking in her direction when I heard her voice crack. “And then I went ahead and said the same bull as those assholes.”

She nodded slowly. “And I had the stupid idea that we were…partners.”

“We are, Coach. I’m in your corner through and through. I will never understand what it is that you go through, but I need you to understand that anything I do is to better our team and protect you. Nothing good was going to come out of that interaction with Frank Stagg. He’s a fucking clown who was trying to get under your skin because we whooped his team’s asses. I just didn’t want him to spoil our win with his ignorant commentary.”

She frowned and grumbled a little before biting her bottom lip. She looked back up toward me, the rage in her eyes from before somewhat simmering down. “Can you say anything other than ‘walk it off’ next time?”

I moved closer, took the bat from her hand, and placed it down. “What would you like me to say?”

“I don’t know. Anything but that.”

I took her hands and brought her left palm to my mouth. I kissed it lightly. “How about ‘leave it on the field, Coach’?”

“Oh gosh, no.” She shook her head as she inched a little closer. “Try again.”

I kissed her other palm. “Lap it out, Coach.”

“Nothing about walking or leaving the field,” she argued. “Something that wouldn’t feel so belittling but makes it clear that the other coaches are baiting me. Something that others wouldn’t understand. Something that’s just ours.”

I brought both of her palms to my mouth and kissed them. “Butterflies.”

“Butterflies?” she questioned, moving even closer. So close that I could easily step in and kiss her again.

“Yeah.” I nodded, leaning in and brushing my mouth against her soft lips. “Butterflies.”

Her eyes fluttered shut. “Why butterflies?”

“Because I’d have to be close to you whenever I said the word, and whenever I’m close to you, I get fucking butterflies.”

She reopened her eyes and shoved me away with a loud chuckle. “Okay, cornball.”

I gasped and tossed my hands to my chest. “Here I am, speaking from my heart, and you call me a cornball?”

“I’m sorry. If you didn’t say corny things, I couldn’t call you a cornball.”

“You know what? Take a walk, Coach,” I joked.

She snickered and flipped me off before she reached toward me, grabbed my shirt, and pulled me closer to her. “Kiss me, corny Coach,” she whispered.

“Is that an order or a request?”

“An order.”

“God…” I shook my head slowly, moving closer to her mouth. “I love it when you boss me around.”

I kissed her, and she leaned into it, kissing me back. My hands fell to the sides of her face as she tilted her head toward me. I loved this part of us. The part where we kissed and made up. The part where I was able to taste her lips against mine. The part where I could daydream about more when our mouths touched.

Oh, how I wanted fucking more.

“I’m having a case of déjà vu,” someone said behind me, breaking up the connection between Avery and me.

She stepped back and gently brushed her hand against her mouth.

Don’t brush away my kisses, Avery Kingsley.

I turned around to see Evan standing there with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said with an almost-smirk. “I didn’t know you two were…you two again.”

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