Page 75 of Coach
“Shane,” I breathed, turning the ball over in my hands. “Did you . . . did you make this?”
“I had a little time this weekend.” He shrugged. “I thought you could put it on your desk or in one of those cases, you know, a trophy case thing? It’s not much, really.”
I stared at the ball, stunned by the workmanship—and by the man who’dmadeit for me.
That’s when Matty’s overly caffeinated voice started peeping in my brain.
Was this the equivalent of “the forehead kiss wasn’t enough, so I made you this,” or was this some sort of dating consolation prize? Was Shane letting me down and saying he wanted to visit the friend zone? Or was he signaling something more?
Man, I hated dating and reading signals and sending signals and—fuck—why couldn’t adults just saywhat they meant?
“I, uh,” Shane stammered. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and, uh, I guess I express myself best through my hands.”
Nowthatsounded enticing.
Woodworking, idiot. He’s talking about woodworking.
Wait, did he just say he couldn’t stop thinking about me?
My pulse kicked it up a notch.
“This may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever given me,” I said, meaning every word. “Thank you, Shane.”
I glanced around. Only a few parents remained. Most of my guys had vanished to shower, leaving us virtually alone in the gym.
“I need to check on the guys and clean up a bit, then we can grab dinner.”
Shane turned and dropped onto a bleacher. “I’ll be here. Take your time.”
I tossed the wooden ball into the air a few inches above my palm as I headed to the locker room. It felt good, better than good. It felt like a piece of Shane in my hands, like the guy had carved out a sliver of himself and handed it to me—like he wanted me to carry a piece of him with me.
The locker room door flew open, almost smackingme in the head because I was too busy staring at my new toy to pay attention. Gabe appeared, hair wet, bag slung over his shoulder. His gaze landed on the ball in my hands. Then he looked up at my face, and past me to where Shane sat across the court. A broad grin spread across his face.
“The non-boyfriend give you something?”
“Not a word, you hear me?”
Gabe’s grin grew. “You’ve kept my secrets. I would never tell yours. Although, silence might have its price.”
I glared at the boy.
“Just kidding. It’s good to see you happy, Coach. You deserve it.”
And with that teenage proclamation, Gabe strode away, leaving me standing in the doorway of the locker room with a wooden basketball cradled in both hands.
Chapter 24
Shane
The gym was empty by the time he came back, just the glow of far-off hallway lights and the faint echo of a final bouncing ball somewhere in the past.
Then Mateo stepped out.
His hair still a little damp, freshly brushed, a slight curl at his temples somehow making him look younger and more dangerous all at once. He wore a fresh shirt—a rich purple one with a golden mustang across the chest like it meant something, and somehow, it suited him better than anything I’d seen.
He walked across the court like it belonged to him, not like a king or a star, just steady and solid, the kind of walk that didn’t ask for attention but always got it.
I stayed frozen, caught somewhere between trying to seem normal and nervously reliving the kiss I’d lefton his forehead like an idiot.
