Page 59 of Courtside

Every player was looking at him, and a few nodded along as he wrapped up his speech. He looked over at Jordan and then at Jenks, who both watched him with obvious determination on their faces. “Captains,” he continued, speaking to the two seniors. “Come up with a game plan for tonight. You’ve seen the tape. You know who these guys are. Take ten to talk with the team, and then bring the plan to me.”

With one last nod at the group, David turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

“What the hell did you say to them?” Tim asked, leaning over into David’s space as the home crowd cheered when Jordan hit another three.

“All I did was let them give me a haircut,” David replied, unable to keep the huge smile from his face. He looked up at the scoreboard. They were only down 35 - 30 coming up to the end of the half.

They were playing their asses off, making Greenville fight to earn every point. At Jordan and Jenks’ suggestions, they’d dropped any attempt at half-court pressure and focused instead on protecting the basket and getting their bigger guys into position to rebound.

And then there was the fact that Jordan couldn’t miss a shot. He didn’t celebrate his makes; his face remained stoic and almost expressionless as his teammates celebrated around him, but he returned their high fives and even shouted an occasional “Let’s go, boys.”

It was the shift that the guys needed.

As the clock counted down to the half, Monty and Matty scoring brought them within a point of Greenville, who couldn’t get a shot off before the buzzer.

The team couldn’t help but celebrate as they ran into the locker room. A part of David wanted to remind them that they were still losing, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. The fact that they were so close with a team like this was worth celebrating.

As had become customary, David, Tim, and Sage hung back in the hallway outside the locker room to give the players a minute and to give the coaches a chance to talk over their game plan.

“Must have been a hell of a haircut,” Tim said, a grin on his face as he leaned against the wall opposite of where David stood. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jordan play like that.”

David glanced over at Sage, who’d had that crooked smile on her face for the entire first half. Even as her fingers had tapped away on the tablet, the smile never wavered.

She looked incredible in the blue blazer and pants that she frequently wore to games. Combined with the ponytail and heels, she looked like she should be the one sitting at the head of the bench.

“He’s 5 for 6 from the three,” she said, looking down at the tablet she held in her hands. Her eyes jumped up, meeting his gaze head on as she addressed him. “They’re playing out of their minds tonight, Coach.”

For some reason, hearing those words from her meant more than he could quantify.

“I don’t think I’m going to say much,” David said, looking over at Tim. “Just to keep doing what they’re doing.”

“Sounds good.” He gave a nod to David before going into the locker room.

David stood there frozen. Had Tim just given him a nod of approval? He rubbed a hand over his beard, a combination of embarrassment and pride warring in him as he berated himself for being so affected by the older man’s praise.

“Nice work,” he heard her say, and he blinked to see Sage standing in front of him with her fist extended.

He bumped his hand against hers. “Thanks, Lefty,” he said, remembering what it had been like to dance with her.

Dancing with her had been a mistake. Up until then, so much about her had been a product of his imagination. Was her skin soft? How would her body fit against his? How would she respond to his touch?

Now he knew too much.

He knew that her skin was soft like silk and yet cool to the touch. He knew that her body tucked perfectly against his, her height bringing her close enough that it was easy to whisper against her ear. He knew that she softened like butter in his arms.

He should have known better. Everyone knew that dancing with someone was the only foolproof way to suss out chemistry. If you moved together well on the dance floor, well, then chances were you’d be fucking electric in bed.

Anddamnif they hadn’t moved like they’d been dancing together for years.

Shaking his head, he realized he was alone in the hallway. He had a team to coach, and a goddamn game to win.

* * *

The sound in the locker room was deafening. Sweaty bodies leapt up and down, shouts and cheers filling the humid, sweat-stenched air.

They’d won.

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