Page 2 of Crossing Lines

“More like Coach Hot Stuff.” With a cackle, Ace slapped my shoulder. “You want some of that hot stuff there, Boehm?”

“Jesus.” I pivoted to grab my duffel, then stepped toward the hallway. I had better things to do than listen to these two idiots.But fuck, the guy was gorgeous. As I walked down the hallway, I snuck a glance into the stark light of the head coaching office.

Patterson and Gibson talked over the white board, no doubt strategizing our next game against Northern Michigan on Friday.

My gaze raked over Coach Gibson, his round ass peeking out from the bottom of his suit jacket as he raised his arm. Goddamn, he was nice to look at.

His gaze crept to mine, and he turned, then the hint of a grin teased his lips.

I blinked and snapped my gaze toward the hallway. It was like he knew every time I looked at him. I quickened my pace down the hallway painted in our school colors of maroon and gold. What were the chances the guy was queer? Probably slim to none. I could look, but I couldn’t touch. Even if he were queer, he was acoach. Not exactlymycoach, but still. Why the hell was my brain even going there?

I stopped at the glass doors leading outside, roaming my gaze over my reflection and the straight black hair framing my blue eyes. Coach Gibson’s eyes were even lighter than mine. Damn, the color almost made him look surreal. I shoved the doors open to the chilly desert air and breathed in, scanning the orange and turquoise hues of the setting sun over the high-rise buildings of Tempe and the jagged mountains farther out.Quit thinking about the guy and go home.We’d have a nice squad dinner tonight, and maybe we’d play some video games to wind down. And I would not obsess over Coach Gibson. I would not.

After sittingdown to dinner with all the guys at our dinner table, except for Archer, I dug into my plate of spaghetti, twirling my fork in the noodles. “Looks good, Ace.” I flicked my gaze to him, sitting at the head with Mason seated next to him and across from me.

“Thanks, Jonah.” With a quick smile, he stuffed a forkful of noodles into his mouth.

“How do you like your new coach, Tyler?” Mason glanced at me, then focused on Tyler, one of our best D-men.

Tyler, sitting next to me, straightened in his chair and cleared his throat, winding pasta onto his fork. “Seems cool.” He shrugged. “Kind of young, though.”

I chewed my food, forcing myself to stare at my plate. I was not going to look interested in this conversation. Mason and Ace didn’t need more ammunition to tease me with.

“How old do you think he is?” Myles, the heathen, cut his pasta into pieces before stuffing it in his mouth, then shook his wavy blond hair off his face and did a double-take of me with his brown-eyed gaze. “What?”

“You’re supposed to twirl your fork in the noodles, not cut it.” I stabbed my pasta with my fork and spun it around. “Like this, see?” I raised my brows. At least I’d gotten the conversation off Coach Hot—Fuck, Gibson.

“Dude, how long have we been having this conversation with him? Give up already.” Huffing a laugh, Ace shook his head.

“What do you think Coach Gibson’s deal is?” Mason sipped his Gatorade. “I mean, what sort of family business would keep you from showing up at your new coaching job at the start of the season?” He twisted his lips.

“Don’t know, but it had to have been something big for Coach to have agreed to it.” Tyler ate some food.

I focused on my spaghetti again, getting the perfect wrap around my fork. I’d listen and stay out of this.

“What do you think, Jonah?” Mason poked my forearm that was laying across the table.

“Huh?” I perused the table, everyone’s attention on me. Mason, the fucker. “I don’t know.” I slid a bite of food into my mouth. There, maybe he’d leave me out of it.

With a tilt of his head, Mason asked, “Did the rest of you seethe look on Jonah’s face when he saw the new coach? Damn, thought his tongue was going to hit the floor.” He snickered, then bumped his elbow into Ace’s. “Right, Ace?”

Leaning into me, Ace said, “Yeah, and Coach Hot Stuff noticed you too. Did you see how he looked at you?”

I dropped my fork on my plate with a clink, then wiped my lips with my napkin, drawing a deep inhale. Oh, here we go. I was not going to live this down. As I pointed at each of them, I said, “You both need to stop.”

“What? What’s going on?” The hint of a smirk played across Tyler’s lips.

Dragging his gaze from mine, Mason said, “When Jonah laid eyes on Coach Hot Stuff, he about popped a boner right there.”

“I did not.” I forced a glare at him. It was sort of true, but fuck if I’d admit it.

“Did too.” Ace cackled. “I saw your dick chub up in your joggers.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Myles swept an open-mouthed grin over his face and shifted forward in his seat, his gaze snapping to mine. “Damn, I was across the room, so I didn’t see.”

With a stuttered chuckle, I hung my head. “You guys are such assholes sometimes. I didn’t get a boner or chub up.” Okay, I kind of did the last thing. “The guy’s probably straight anyway.” Fuck me. I slapped my hand over my mouth. Damn it, I was a goner.

“Oh, so you’ve been wondering about him, huh?” Tenting his fingers over his plate, Mason peered at me.

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