Page 6 of Courtside

The team had already started practicing, but she hadn’t heard yet when she’d officially start. She supposed they wouldn’t need her until the games began.

She heated her copper kettle, making a to-go thermos of Earl Gray with milk and honey. She’d never been able to handle coffee, but the caffeine of black tea was the perfect balance for her.

Since she still had a little bit of time before she had to leave for her first class, Sage took her tea and breakfast tacos out to her small balcony. She’d set up a hammock chair and a small folding table, and along all of the edges she had potted plants in varying stages of growth. Some, like the hibiscus that was practically a tree, had been with her since her freshman year, while others, like the hanging fuschia and the window box of pansies, were new.

Done with her breakfast, she quickly hand-washed her dish and ducked into her bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and pulled her long hair back into a single braid that hung down her back. She ignored her makeup.

Moving through her apartment, she grabbed her backpack, refilled her water bottle, and then slipped her feet into the worn pair of Birkenstocks that sat beside the front door. Locking her door behind her, she ran down the stairs.

* * *

Sage jogged up the wide, stone steps toward the front entrance of the Robert D. Humphrey Athletic Center, pausing only to give a friendly slap to the tail feathers of Eckbert the Eagle, their rather unfortunately named mascot, who was captured in a ferocious bronze statue that greeted everyone who approached.

The massive, limestone building housed the natatorium, gym, and the shared basketball and volleyball practice courts, in addition to the typical things one would expect from a small college’s athletic facility: racquetball and squash courts, a weight room and fitness room, and numerous classrooms.

It was where she’d spent the majority of her time at Southeastern University, as almost all of her Sports Management classes met in the mostly windowless classrooms tucked in the lower floors of the building.

The wall of freezing air hit her as soon as she walked into the high-ceilinged atrium. Mindlessly, she unzipped her backpack and grabbed the crewneck sweatshirt she carried with her everywhere. Sure, it was hot in Charleston, but did everyone have to have the air conditioning so fucking cold?

She barely took in the trophy cases and dark green and gold accents that covered the walls around her, and resolutely ignored the wide bank of doors that led into the gymnasium, instead turning to the staircase that led to the lower floors of the building. She went down two flights, before following a hallway that led to one of the many classrooms tucked away into a corner.

The class, Sports Revenue Strategies and Analysis, was taught by the assistant athletic director, an ex-baseball player who’d spent some years in pro sports. He went by Coach Smith, even though Sage wasn’t sure he’d ever actually been a coach in all of his professional years. He was well-liked by the students in the program, as he walked the fine line between being casual and easy-going while still commanding the respect of those in his classroom. He also happened to be Sage’s advisor.

The class passed by quickly, with Coach Smith moving through slide after slide giving an overview of the course and the content they’d be covering. It was genuinely interesting, but was definitely geared toward those who were looking to pursue a career in sports marketing. Sage wasn’t entirely sure what she was going to do with her degree yet, but was pretty certain that marketing wasn’t where she wanted to end up.

“Sage, hang back a minute,” Coach Smith called as everyone was packing up to leave.

Shoving her laptop into her bag, she walked over to the front of the classroom. Once they were alone, Coach Smith rubbed a hand over his thinning hair.

“Well, I’ve got some bad news,” he started, not looking directly at her. “I just got a call from Coach Rivera, and they’ve decided to go with someone else for the Team Manager spot.”

Sage stilled. Coach Rivera was the head coach of the Women’s soccer team. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Coach Smith said, finally looking her in the eye. “She said that one of their seniors had a season-ending injury during pre-season, and since she’s also in the Sports Management program, Rivera is doing her a solid and letting her complete her internship requirement a year early.” He gave her a sad smile. “She said to offer her apologies to you.”

Sage couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But I need the internship to graduate!”

Coach Smith held up a hand. “I know, Sage. And I’ve already got another team lined up.”

“Who?”

“Men’s basketball.”

Sage froze. “No.”

Fuck no.

“No?” Coach Smith raised his brows at her, shaking his head. “Sage, you need this job. I know it’s not what you want —”

“Coach, it’s the worst program in the entire school.”Sure. Let him think that was why she couldn’t work with the team.

He at least had the decency to wince at that. “The new coach is good. He’s an alum. Has real potential to turn it all around.”

Panic clawed its way up her throat.What was happening? It was all planned out. Everything was going to go according to plan. “Isn’t there someone else?” She was trying to keep her voice even. “Racquetball? Pickleball?”

“Not real teams and no,” Coach Smith replied. “At this point there’s no one else.”

Fuck.

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