Page 55 of Home Field Advantage
But she stops herself quickly as soon as she sees the corner of my lips twist up. Her cheeks turn pink, and I want to take her face between my hands and beg her never to stop laughing like that.
“Are you okay, Poppy?” Tucker asks her, dipping to her eye level with a hand on her shoulder. “Why are your cheeks all red?”
“Dammit, Tucker,” she says through gritted teeth.
“Oh,” he says before looking between both of us. “Ohhh! Wow. I mean. Cool. Great.”
“No, no. Nothing is going on between us, Tuck,” she defends, pointing a finger in his face. “So don’t start any rumors around town.”
He winks. “Got it, Poppy.”
She groans. “I’m being so serious. Dallas is just my neighbor, and I’m Sage’s teacher.”
And there it is again. The reminder right from her lips that she’s off-limits.
I’m about to open my mouth and ask her how her day was, anything to hear her keep talking, but there’s a tap on my arm. Looking down, I see Ethan with the backward baseball cap next to me.
“Coach, is it snack time yet? My blood sugar is basically crashing.”
My eyes widen. “Oh my god, Ethan. Are you diabetic or something? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“No, but I have the metabolism of a horse. Or so my mom says.” He shrugs. “I don’t know what it means, but I just really like snacks. My dad says that all kids my age are like this. And then my parents argue for about one whole minute about how I can’t live off snacks. But little do they know, Icanlive off snacks. I need them to survive.”
I stare down at him in disbelief as he rambles through his words.
Poppy and Tucker are both giggling behind their hands next to me, and the weird tension from before is gone.
Thank you, Ethan.
“There’s a bag on the bleachers for you,” I say, and he scrambles off.
“Seems like you have your hands full with this coaching thing, huh?” Poppy says.
I look around the gym. Kids are throwing tennis balls in all different directions, and others are playing with the plastic bats I brought, so we don’t mess up the gym floors with real ones. They’re using them like their lightsabers. One kid is even running around the gym with a bat between his legs, as if he’s riding a horse. And then there’s Ethan trying to negotiate snack time like he’s part of a hostage situation.
I nod in response. “I’ve coached adults before, never making it to the championship game. But I think I’ve made it.”
Poppy tilts her head to the side in question.
“Are you going to coach us or what?” Archie shouts from across the gym, interrupting my thoughts.
I lean in so only Poppy can hear. “I’ve made it to the championship game of patience.”
“I’m not sure you’re going to win that either,” Tucker mutters.
She rests a hand on my shoulder, the friendly touch igniting the fire within me. “Welcome to elementary school.”
And with those parting words, she takes her hand off of me—and I fucking hate it—before she walks away. I stare because I can’t help it. I’ve been drawn to her from the moment I saw her, and this isn’t any different.
The urge to run after her is strong, but I have a team to coach.
If that’s even what you want to call it.
“Are you okay?” Gabe asks. I had no idea he was even standing so close to me. “Your face is doing something weird.”
“I agree,” Tucker says, adding fuel to the fire.
I clear my throat and avert my gaze from the door Poppy just left. “All good.”
