Page 52 of Love You Already
When I turn to face forward again, we've managed to catch the eye of everyone on the field, Coach Whitaker included. His eyes are covered in a pair of aviators, though even without them, I have no doubt he's checking out my sister. I'd argue with him about not making a move on her after all these years, but I suspect I know what holds him back.
His age. His job. The town. Fear of rejection.
Let's be real, my sister is a knockout. It's a subtle kind of beauty, though it's potent. Men would worship the ground she walks on if given the chance.
“Back to it boys,” Whit yells a second before another one of the coaches blows a whistle. He walks toward us, meeting right at the edge of the playing area. The team is further away so we don't have to worry about an errant ball heading our way. At least I hope we don't.
“Hey, Whit,” Bridgett says, her voice all soft and sweet.
“Whit,” I repeat, though a lot less sugar-coated.
He nods to me, “Rose,” then turns to Bridgett. “How's it going, Bridgett? Glad you could make it.”
“Sure thing.” My sister rushes to speak before me. I catch her scathing stare, and I have to fight back a laugh.
“We're going to run some drills, and then I'd love to get a few close ups if possible. Maybe make the boosters extra happy to encourage them to work extra hard this year for funding.”
It's a known fact that our boosters do the most for the team. Each event is them going above and beyond. From fundraisers to organizing events, they handle it all. Whitaker may be the face of the team, but it's the boosters that keep things going off field. They keep the morale in town focused on these boys, and some have even suggested they are the reason Whitaker is even here.
Bridgett nods eagerly. “Sounds like a plan. I'll unpack and get started.”
He leaves us without another word, his mind already back on the game. I watch him leave as I try to think objectively about what has my sister so hung up over the man. Sure, he's ok to look at. Nothing like Lachlan.And he knows a thing or two about football. Not the superior sport.But does that make him worth all this effort? Not if I were to decide.
“Come on. Stop staring at his ass before we're asked to leave,” Bridgett whisper shouts at me. I laugh as I move to follow her to the stands.
The metal is hot to the touch, meaning I'll be doing a lot of standing for the day. It's that or plop onto the grass. I can't fathom going to the emergency room with an ass burn from bleachers. It would be absolutely horrific.
“Yes, ma'am. What are you here for today?”
“I burned my ass.”
“You did what, ma'am? Burned your —”
“Ass. My ass.”
“And how did you do that?”
“Bleachers. High school football bleachers.”
Yeah, no. I'll pass on that particularly brutal situation please and thanks.
I watch as my sister places her bag down on the bleacher — no chance of ass burning there — and then pulls out her camera. The graduation gift has been upgraded a time or two and now the thing looks uber professional. She's even got those long telescopic lenses. I should know all about them given how intensely she shopped for the one she wound up with. I had to convince her I was as enthused as she was after the tenth call to confirm I agreed with her.
Now watching her take photos of the team, I realize she is absolutely doing the right thing for her. As much as I couldn't understand it at first, I can see that this is her niche. Her happy place. Mine was on the back of an angry bull. Hers is here. I can't fault her for that.
Despite my beef with Whitaker and the way he drags out their mating dance, I don't hate the guy. He's a damn fine coach. He's led the boys to a number of championship games and even one win. It hasn't been duplicated since, though people are whispering that this year is the one. This will be the time they take home the trophy again and Firefly Cove becomes a household name.
We'll see. I'm not holding my breath or anything since it's up to a lot of factors for it all to work out.
In the end, I know that there has to be a hell of a lot of stuff going right for the team to win. More than just a good coach and a talented group of players. You have to have other teams who don't play at their best. You have to have everyone on the same page, the same mindset. If not, then you have absolutely no chance of winning.
“Huddle up,” Whit calls out to the boys on the field. They move around him, forming a half-moon of sorts.
Bridgett darts out to catch the formation. I watch as she gathers different angles together. Some from low near the ground and others from up high. She commandeers a step stool from near one of the coaches and even hovers behind Whitaker as he speaks to get his point of view of it all. She's giving it all she has, and this — this is the reason he keeps calling her back. I can tell from the tiny smile he gives when she's close that he enjoys her company too, but more than anything, she's committed to the task at hand.
I pull out my phone while I wait to see if there's anything from Lachlan. He's been exceptionally quiet today. Once I mentioned it was girl time, he acted as if he completely understood the need and wouldn't bother us one bit.
Only problem with that is that I want him to bother me. I want him to intrude and tell me he misses me or that he's thinking about me. I want him asking what we're up to and telling me how much he wishes he could be there.