Page 59 of Overtime
Yeah, there is. And it’s big. The size of this whole place. And it crept up on me when I didn’t realize it. And I don’t know what to do because this really isn’t like me at all. I don’t let anything interfere with games. Least of all girls.Especiallynot girls I’m not even dating. And yet…
Was Coach right when he banned me from dating for the rest of the season? Except, shit, I don’t remember getting twisted into a pretzel over the Kelseys in my life. Was he wrong, and now his mandate has turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy?
Archie’s expression shifts into worry. “You look ill. Maybe we should let Edwards in?—”
“Don’t you dare.” I take a step forward, looming over him. “I will finish the game. Make sure the guys score.”
He hits my chest. “In case you haven’t noticed, douchebag, we’ve been having your back all night.”
I’m letting the team down. Some captain, huh?
I have enough shame to ease off. Just a smidge.
“Is this about what number 4 said?”
“No,” I answer. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay, great. So it isn’t about the game. That means it could be about a million other things no one can possibly guess at.” Archie pulls at his red hair. “One day you’ll have a breakdown if you keep bottling shit up like this, Aran, and it won’t just affect your game. I’m your best friend. You can talk to me.”
“Maybe later.” Maybe never. But I add, “Definitely not when we have a game to salvage.”
He throws his hands in the air and walks away. Wish I could walk away from myself too.
I wipe my face with the sleeve of my jersey and join the rest of the team. Coach keeps laying down a play for the opening minutes, but when his eyes catch me, they promise murder.
I lower mine to theCon my chest I no longer deserve.
“Keep playing like this, and I’ll be starting next game,” Edwards says while we head back out after intermission.
“Shut up, man. Everyone has off days,” Archie spits out at him.
Yeah, everyone does. But not me. That’s why they call me “the Iceberg.” I’m supposed to be an impenetrable, unmovable block of ice. Today, I’m lava. Just oozing all over the place and destroying everything in my path.
“Rodriguez.” I immediately hold back for Coach to catch up to me. “Is everything okay at home?”
I do a double take. That wasn’t what I expected at all.
“Yes, Coach.”
“Then what the hell is your problem today?”
That’s more like it.
“I’m focused now.”
“Better late than never, I guess,” he says, his words dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure the scouts will completely forget howyou allowed three goals and got into a fight in the first two periods.”
I wince. “Scouts?”
He gives me a textbook sarcastic expression. “We’re regionals contenders. What did you expect? Of course there are scouts watching. You more than anyone should be busting your ass out there to show them not drafting you will cost them.”
“I—” But I clamp my mouth shut. I have nothing to say. No excuses. I’ve sucked, and I know it.
Turning my head back to him by my mask’s grill, Coach says, “Tell me you’re going to play like a brand-new man in the third period so I don’t have to pull you in front of those scouts.”
“I will, sir.” I clench my jaw and my fists. “I won’t let the team down.”
“Good. Go out there and break their wings.”
