Page 28 of The Problem with Players

How he cleared his throat.

How he snickered.

How he patted me on the back whenever I made a good call.

Don’t touch me, Nathaniel!

I hated everything about that man. I honestly didn’t know hate could be so strong, which made it quite confusing to me when my stomach would sometimes flutter whenever he was near me. Then again, there were those small glimpses of him that I didn’t completely despise. Those quiet moments when he interacted with the guys on the field.

After Nathan’s first few practices, I stood back and studied how Nathan coached Jackson Perk on Friday night. The practice was over for the rest of the team, but Nathan volunteered to stay back to help Jackson out.

Jackson was a solid player but he never enjoyed the attention. Nathan took notice of him, though. Nathan focused on the guys who hung out in the shadows more than the others who shone in the spotlight.

Jackson was quiet. I hardly ever heard him make a peep allpractice, and he’d been on my team for the past three years. Yet as I watched Nathan teach Jackson how to reposition his batting stance, I noticed Jackson’s eyes sparkle with interest more than ever before.

“It’s all about the follow-through,” Nathan explained to Jackson as he held a bat in his hand, flexing every muscle in his arm as he demonstrated the swing in slow motion. “And don’t hold the bat too tightly. I know that’s a normal habit, but loosen up, and you’ll see it soar. Here, you try,” he told Jackson, handing him the bat.

Nathan placed a ball on the batting tee in front of the two, and Jackson got into place. With a slight sigh, Jackson rolled his shoulders back, gripped the bat, and swung as Nathan had instructed.

He struck the ball, and it went flying across the field.

Well, I’ll be damned.

I smirked, seeing the pride that shot through Jackson’s system. It was as if a wave of confidence filled every inch of his being.

“Hell yeah,” Nathan said as pure bliss fell against his face. He playfully shoved Jackson. “How did that feel?”

“Good,” Jackson quietly said with a nod. “Great.”

“Good, good.” Nathan placed another ball on the tee. “Now do it again and step into it more. Don’t be afraid to follow the swing.”

Jackson nodded in understanding and hit the ball with even more power. The smile on his face grew bigger. “Holy crap,” he breathed out, shaking his head in disbelief.

Nathan stood there proudly. He seemed to believe in the players more than they believed in themselves. “Told you. You got this, buddy. So it’s time you stop playing it small, all right?” He patted Jackson on his shoulder. “You are a star. Time to start shining brighter.”

Jackson laughed, shaking his head. “Thanks, Coach P.”

The joy shooting through Jackson made my heart feel as if it would explode with an overflow of happiness. I’d never seen that kid look so thrilled in my life.

Maybe I did hate Nathan, but it was clear he was good at what he did.

“All right, get home and get all your homework done. Remember, if you need help with your algebra test coming up, I’m more than willing to lend a hand,” Nathan said to Jackson.

And that hatred I felt for him?

It stupidly started to lessen.

“Thanks again, Coach P. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Jackson said, hurrying over to grab his duffel bag before he jogged toward the parking lot.

When Nathan turned to face me, I still wore my goofy grin. The second we locked eyes, I shook it off. He walked over toward me with his hands in his sweatpants pockets.

“You see that?” he asked me, speaking of Jackson. “He’s a powerhouse.”

“He is,” I agreed. I crossed my arms, trying to shake off the confusion in my head. How could I hate the man but still be so damn impressed with his skill level? “Good job with him. He needed that boost.”

Nathan arched an eyebrow. “Was that a compliment?”

“It was a observation from one coach to another. Nothing more, nothing less.”

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