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NEW ASSISTANT COACH FOR THE WOLVES

By Wes Bowers

Franklin West has a new face. Coach Lane Masters is a former NCAA Championship swimmer from Billings, Montana. After completing a degree in Sports Management at University of Minnesota, he’s joining the Franklin West swim team as Assistant Coach under current coach, Doug McMann.

When asked about his new role, Masters said, ‘I’m looking forward to taking the Wolves to the next level. There’s a ton of potential on the team and I’m here to make sure we shine like we’re supposed to.’

Coach Doug McMann, British two-time Olympic medal winner, said he was, ‘grateful for the fresh input’ and was looking forward to working with Masters.

Welcome to Franklin West, Coach Masters. Go Wolves!

I read the article twice. There’s nothing there I don’t already know. My attention lingers on the photo of him standing poolside. Smiling. Happy. Frowning at the screen, I click out of The Howl.

“Everything okay?”

I fix a smile to my face and reach up to take my coffee from Aldo. “Yeah. Just reading up about the new assistant coach.”

Aldo sheds his jacket and slumps down onto the sofa next to me. It’s only then that I realize my choice of seat is a lot smaller when you’re sitting next to an adult male athlete. If it bothers him, he doesn’t let it show, his thigh flush with mine as he gets comfortable.

“I can’t get a read on the guy,” he admits. “It can only be good for the team, though. Right?”

I hum my noncommittal answer. “How are we doing this, then?”

Aldo grins at me, his brilliant white smile stark against his olive skin. “I was hoping you’d ask that.”

He leans forward and reaches for his bag, his t-shirt riding up to expose his back. I tear my attention away, bemused. I’ve seen him in skintight jammers a gazillion times, yet a sliver of skin and the top of his black boxer briefs has my interest piqued? I shake my head, watching as he tugs a laptop from his bag and opens it on his lap before reaching for his oversized mug of coffee.

Within seconds, he’s opened a complicated looking spreadsheet, turning the screen toward me.

“I already inputted our times from today’s practice,” he explains, pointing at one of the columns. “Then I’ve used this formula to populate the fields of the races so that we’re evenly spread and best matched.”

My lips twitch, despite how impressed I am, and Aldo raises his dark eyebrows.

“What?” he asks.

I shrug. “Nothing. I just didn’t realize you were a geek.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of geekiness,” he says, grinning at me before taking a sip of his coffee. “Can you see anything you think we should change?”

I stare at him for a moment, a little annoyed at myself for being around this man for years without seeing him as anything more than a teammate. But then, why would I have looked any deeper? It’s not like any of my teammates know anything about me other than my famous parents and my role as the Hive resident DJ.

Trying to focus, I stare at the spreadsheet, looking at the lineups for the races. His formula, however the hell it works, is pretty flawless, but I do spot a couple of things to change.

“Great,” Aldo says as he swaps the information around. “That looks really solid.”

“Where did you learn to do that?” I ask, tucking a leg under myself and turning slightly to face him.

Aldo frowns a little. “Economics.”

My skin heats as I realize I didn’t even know what his major was. “Ah. So, what’s the plan after graduation?”

This time, Aldo’s mouth twitches and he shifts, mirroring my position as he cradles his mug with two hands. “You really know nothing about me, do you?”

Unease swirls in my gut. “Should I?”

He shakes his head, his dark hair brushing his forehead. “Ever hear of Cuore Rustico?”

“Of course, I have. It’s like the biggest chain of Italian restaurants in the country. My dad’s obsessed with the rigatoni Bolognese.”

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