He snorts and shakes his head, but a small smile plays on his lips now. “You’re ridiculous.”
I grin wide now. “That’s what they tell me.”
He settles back into the couch, and the tense moment seems to be over. But I’m also praying he doesn’t kick me out. I don’t want to leave yet. Even if friendship is all we can ever have, I’ll take it.
I could definitely use a friend these days.
To my utter shock, he hands me the remote. “Okay. You can pick the movie. I’ll pick it next week.”
My eyes light up, and he chuckles, not saying anything else. But I think he must know how much the gesture means to me. Next week. We’re doing this again next week.
We’re going to be friends.
ELEVEN
NOAH
I’m such a goddamn coward. I should have told Chance everything that night at my house, but I couldn’t get the words to come out. He’d just told me about what had to be the worst time in his life, and I couldn’t even tell him I’m bisexual.
That I’ve had a secret for so damn long. That it’s suffocating. And while I might not know exactly how he feels, I can relate in some ways. That I’m glad he could at least tell his parents about his sexuality because I never felt like I could, and now they’re gone.
That I hid a part of myself for their entire lives.
That they never knew, but I’m still sure if they did, they wouldn’t have been accepting of it at all. Not even in the fucked-up way his parents seem to be. I wanted to tell him so many things, but instead I settled on letting him choose the movie we watched.
He chose some older comedy I hadn’t watched yet, and we ended up having a pretty good time after that, no matter how the secret burned deep within me. I hate to say it, but . . . I think we might be friends now.
Crazy.
But my head is most certainly fully in the game tonight. Another Friday night. The stadium lights are on. The crowd is loud, and it doesn’t matter that we’re the visiting team, half of the stands are filled with red and black.
Kensley Panthers signs are held up. Faces are painted.
It’s a cool night in early September, and my heart races as I stand on the sidelines and try like hell to keep my cool. Ellenwood is a worthy opponent, and they’re giving us a run for our money.
Not to mention, Jackson is struggling again. I apologized to him last week and told him I’d be more patient. I meant it, and I always stick to my word, but he’s got to step it up. He’s a good kid, and he’s talented, but I’m not sure where his head is sometimes.
“Jackson,” I holler but keep my tone even.
He runs over to me, pulling his helmet off his head as he says, “I know, Coach. They’re just fast tonight.”
I hold up my hand to silence him, but I grin because I know how much he cares about what I think, and I don’t want to crush the kid. “I know. But we don’t worry about them. We worry about us. We’re faster. We’re better. Play like it.”
He nods his head, breathing heavily. “Okay. Yes, sir. I’ll do better.”
I slap him on the shoulder pads and nod with a smile. “Get out there.”
He’s smiling when he bounces off, pulling his helmet back on. Then I notice Chance is at my side, grinning like the cocky asshole he is. “See? Doesn’t that feel a hundred times better?”
“Don’t start.” I try to keep the amusement out of my tone but can’t seem to.
He chuckles, but it doesn’t last long. The team makes mistake after mistake, and we wind up tied. My entire body is wrenched up tight. My stomach coils in endless knots, and I feel Chance watching me almost as much as the game.
I can feel the scrutiny, and I don’t like it. I try to keep my head in the game and keep my cool. There’s no yelling or screaming, at least not on the outside. But my entire soul is screaming on the inside, hoping we can pull it off.
Nervous about Billy’s warning and the town’s gossip. About them wanting to tear my job away from me if I give them enough reason. This is all I know. I can’t lose it.
It all comes down to the final seconds of the game, and we barely make it. My entire body is shaky, and I feel like my knees might buckle, but I manage to pull it together enough to get through the bus ride back to school and the after-game talk in the locker room.
But I feel almost numb as the last player leaves, and I go into my office, finally sitting down in my chair. My hands are still shaking. That was close. Way too damn close.
When the door opens moments later, I instinctively know who it is. The players are all on their way to celebrate their win, I’m certain. When I look up and see Chance standing there watching me, looking worried, I’m not surprised at all.
“Noah . . .”
His deep timbre reaches my ears, a quiet worried desperation coming from him. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” He closes the door behind him and walks behind my desk to stand next to me, crowding me in. “We’re friends now. You have to tell me what the hell is going on. Why these wins mean so damn much.”
“Wins are kind of important in sports,” I say with no conviction.
“What’s going on?”
All of a sudden, I’m so damn tired. So tired of it all. Of keeping secrets. Of doing what’s considered the right thing. Of being who they want me to be.
“They want my job.”
I can tell he’s being careful when he kneels in front of me, his eyes gazing up at my face. “Who does?”
“The town. The school board.”
His hands go to my knees, and I stifle the surprise at the electric shock zinging through my body at the touch. “Why would they want that? You’re an amazing coach.”
“I’m not who they want me to be. At first I was.” I swallow hard, the words nearly choking me. “I was the perfect small-town hero. The jock. Married a cheerleader. Had a family and the picket fence.”
He squeezes my knees in his hands gently and makes me look directly into his eyes, holding me there in his gaze. “You’re still that man and so much more.”
I shake my head. “I’m not. I’m divorced. My daughter ran off with her teacher.”
“Who she loves. And who by your own account is a damn good man who treats her right and loves her right back. Who’s an adult.”
I nod slowly, but I don’t take my eyes off his. “I’m . . .”
His brows crinkle as he watches me carefully, like he’s trying to figure out what I’m not saying. But he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t ask me to go on or tell me to.
“I’m . . .” I try again. The words war in my head. Words I’ve kept to myself all these years. But for whatever reason, I feel safe with Chance. Maybe because he’s told me all his deeper secrets.
Maybe because I know I owe him my truth, whether he’s demanded it or not. I want to tell him.
I need to tell him.
To tell someone.
“I’m bisexual,” I finally manage, but it’s barely a whisper.
The shock in his eyes and the gasp on his lips tells me I’ve fooled even him. He had no idea.
But I find myself holding my breath and waiting for words—any words to come out of his mouth.