Page 30 of Coach Sully
She cuts her eyes at me, and I drop the subject. Our conversation picks up again, and time melts away. I could talk to her for hours on end and never run out of things to say. The plan was to ask her about that Toronto player grabbing her, but seeing her face so brightly lit while we discuss a wide plethora of topics, share our favorite things, and compare our values, I don’t want to dampen the mood. I’m enjoying our little bubble.
“Holy shit, it’s three a.m.!” She shrieks.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” I confess, standing up and stretching. “Guess I’m having too much fun with you, Kendra.”
“This was nice.” She hops off the bed, and we brush our teeth side by side. My hand falls to her lower back as I move around her to spit in the sink. Every time I touch her, it’s not enough. The tension is palpable, but admitting it is pointless. There’s nothing we can do about it right now. Not without hurting the other professionally or making it worse. Somehow, pretending it doesn’t exist is easier.
She wraps up her curls, and I grin.
“Don’t make fun of my bonnet.”
I smile and pinch her side. “I’m not. I think you look cute.”
She flips the bathroom light off and clears off the bed, then pulls back the top bedding. “Oh, do you care what side you’re on?”
If I thought the no-fraternization policy was hard to abide by earlier, my will is really about to be put to the test.
“I’m usually on the left,” I reply.
“Perfect. I’m a right sider.”
I remember from the night she slept in my bed. “Easy enough,” I say, peeling off my shirt next to the bed. She looks away from me like I’m about to strip naked. “Do you want me to…” I raise the shirt, and she waves me off. “No, it’s no problem. I’m on this side, you’re on that side. We’re adults, right? Doesn’t bother me! Are you okay with it? I mean, it’s notlike—” We’ve literally seen each other naked before, but now there’s this barrier between us we don’t know how to put up. I’d be fine taking it down, but I’ll respect her wishes.
“You good?” I bite back my laughter.
“What?”
“What?” I echo, climbing under the sheet.
She does the same and taps the lamp to turn it off. The silence between us is deafening. Every little sound of the hotel settling is amplified. Each of us stare at the ceiling. I hear her swallow and open her mouth, inhaling, like she’s about to say something. Then more silence.
“What were you going to say?” I ask. I turn my head in her direction, and the streetlamps outside barely illuminate her face.
Eventually, she turns her head to face me. “If things were different…” she whispers.
My hand covers her small one, and I weave our fingers together. “If things were different, things would be different.” A melancholy longing falls between us.
Kendra’s someone I’ll never forget, regardless of how my future plays out. Decades from now, whether I’m married to another woman or not, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, my thoughts will drift to her from time to time. The luckiest night of my life, when the hotel gave away my room and I stayed up until 3:00 a.m. with Kendra Ames discussing anything and everything. I’ll likely wonder what could have been if I had chosen her over my career, because it’s natural to regret the things you don’t do, but if I had chosen Kendra, I’d probably regret not accepting a head coach position.
My fingers twitch to pull her into my side, cover her body with mine, and hold her close, but until I can give her all of me, I won’t hurt her by dragging out the fling we had. I release her hand. She will be watching me date other women, women I’m not even excited to meet, and she deserves better than that. Thelonger my mind ruminates on this show and being intimate with women right in front of her, the more frustrated I become, until my thoughts formulate into a plan…this is only temporary.
I’ll go on the dates. I’ll do what they ask. I’ll finish this stupid contract with the production company… but I’m coming back for her.
Itried to focus on the woman I was introduced to, but all the show prep I had with Kendra over the last couple weeks has closed me off to anyone else. The less I’m allowed to have her, the more I want to say fuck the rules and do it anyway. Especially after that night we stayed up talking for hours at the hotel.
I was reminded twice today to not look into the camera, which I wasn’t, I was looking at Kendra standing next to it. Luckily, now that she’s interviewing me, I’m supposed to keep my eyes on her. That’s easy. Trying to separate myself from her, for her sake? Not so much.
I’m in the back studio where the questioning takes place, or as they call them, “confessionals.” Since I’m only meeting one woman at a time, they want to practice filming my first impressions so I know what I should be noticing. They asked me for feedback after my first date, and apparently, I need to say more than “Fine.” I’m set up in a chair under bright lights. Apaper napkin thing is folded and stuffed in the collar of my shirt by one of the makeup artists as they apply some product to my face, what that is, I have no idea. I can’t tell a difference.
Before long, Kendra hustles through the door wearing one of those headsets everyone and their uncle is wearing, along with walkie-talkies. She appears to be in the middle of a conversation.
Everyone at the studio loves her. I’ve watched her do at least six unique handshakes with staff members. She’s alive in this place. They should be doing a show about her, not me. She’s way more entertaining to watch. Like a ball of light brightening the faces of everyone she’s put in front of. Myself included.
“Thanks Curtis,” she says, then her eyes lock onto mine and that bright smile appears on her face. “Ready?”
I nod. Her demeanor is friendly, but she’s focused. They snatch the paper from under my collar, and the director I met earlier—James—checks the shot through the camera lens. “Levels are good,” he says to Kendra. They do a countdown and just like that, we’re filming again.
“Tell me what you think about Kia.”