Page 157 of Coach
The double entendre tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Not only was Benji my star player and next in line to become team captain, he was currently abandoning a live tryout to sneak over to the bleachers like we were in the middle of recess instead of a bloodthirsty state-title program.
Who is he making a beeline toward?
My gaze slipped ahead of him, then up the bleachers.
Jessica, of course.
High school’s answer to a human tractor beam.
I watched, my mouth now slightly agape, as Benji leaned one elbow against the railing at the end of the bleachers, all long limbs and misplaced confidence. Jessica, sensing fresh prey, flipped her hair and smiled like she’d just been named queen of the county fair.
I couldn’t hear them, but I didn’t need to.
Benji grinned, flexed a bicep, and said something that made Jessica giggle and bat her lashes so hard it generated enough wind to flutter the paper on my clipboard.
My eyes narrowed.
Oh, no.
Oh, no, no, no.
Not today, Satan.
Not atmytryout.
Without a word, I blew the whistle so hard I might’ve triggered early hearing loss in half the gym.
The ball stopped bouncing.
Sneakers stopped squeaking.
Boys who’d been chatting halted mid-sentence and stared.
Everyone froze.
Even Benji.
Mid-flex.
Jessica blinked up from her perch like she wasn’t actively trying to seduce half my roster.
I started walking.
Stalking, really.
And let me tell you: There’s something very satisfying about the sound of your own sneakers squeaking on a polished gym floor while every single boy within arm’s reach watches you like they’re about to be called into the principal’s office.
Benji straightened, panic setting in a little too late.
“Uh, hey, Coach,” he said, voice climbing several octaves into the land of poor decisions. “I was just—”
“You were just what?” I cut him off, crossing my arms, clipboard tucked tight to my side. “Giving private lessons in the middle of tryouts? Practicing your layup game on the bleachers? Recruiting Jessica for theboy’svarsity team?”
A snort escaped from somewhere behind us. Someone was going to run suicides until they puked for that later.
Benji had the audacity—the audacity—to grin.
