Page 131 of The Charlie Method

“Oh,” Shane says, his tone tactful. “Well…I see her point.”

“Hey, what’s all the commotion back here?” demands our new assistant coach.

Mike Hollis strides over from the front of the bus. He stops in the middle of the aisle, clapping a hand on the top of the seat in front of Will’s. His gaze sweeps over the group.

“Is there a problem? Who’s beefing who?”

Shane shakes his head at the man. “No beef,” he assures him. “Just giving Lattimore some girl advice.”

Nick glares at Shane as if to saywhy would you ever open your mouth.

Hollis nods in understanding. “Got it. All right, lay it on me. I’m bursting with wisdom.”

I snicker under my breath.

“No, you know what? It doesn’t even matter.” Hollis leans his hip against the seat and fixes Nick with a grave look. “I have one question for you, Nicholas.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“One question. This girl—is she wife material? You wanna marry her one day?”

I blink, not expecting that.

I don’t think Nick was either because he falters. Then he nods. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Think or know?”

“Know,” he says sheepishly.

“Then there’s only one solution to your problem. You call her up, and you say,You’re right. That’s it. You’re welcome. Just saved your relationship.”

Shane nods his agreement. “I mean, he’s not wrong.”

“I’m never wrong,” Coach Hollis says. “Why do you think I’ve been married for, like, a thousand years now? I know how to game the system. Oh, and I love my wife. That’s probably part of it too.”

“How’d you guys meet?” Colson calls out from his seat.

Hollis brightens. “Oh, it’s a great story. My daughters say it’s the most romantic story they’ve ever heard. Settle in, boys.”

Ryder and I exchange a look. We haven’t known this man long, but any love story told by Mike Hollis is bound to feature more than a few what-the-fuck twists.

“So, some people might say Rupi was stalking me,” he starts.

I rest my case.

CHARLIE:

Can I come over tonight?

The message pops up in our group chat as Will and I are leaving the Graham Center after the team bus dropped us off. Will reads it and shakes his head at me.

“What?” I say.

“You ate her out in a closet,” he chides.

“So?”

“So I don’t want her to feel pressured into hanging out again.”

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