I’M in the Wombat’s locker room before their home game today. Max and the photographer interrupt our pregame pep talk to take a bunch of obnoxious photos of me with the kids. They don’t even bother including Coach Aaron, even though he’s the main coach. I notice when they’re done taking photos, Max pulls a few kids aside and asks them interview questions about me.
Yeah, good luck with that. I’m sure none of them have any positive remarks.
When we make it out to the bench, the first line gets ready with their sticks and gloves. The eight boys I normally work with are the first stringers, and some of the lesser skilled, younger kids fill in as needed. We’re playing the D.C. Dragons today. I knew dragons would be a cooler name. And the Dragons are playing a good game this season, so it’s going to be a tough fight for our boys.
This being my first game ever as a coach, I’m nervous. Not even going to lie. I have a newfound admiration for Coach Young. I can’t imagine how much pressure he must be under coaching an NHL team with a huge arena full of fans. It’s a thousand times more nerve-racking than actually playing.
I’m standing behind the kids, along with Coach Aaron, watching anxiously as the puck drops. This could be a huge disaster since Freckles and Noah are out there together. The two of them could be great on the same line if they’d just try.
I’m trying to focus on the boys, but my eyes move toward the bleachers. I haven’t seen Andie since our interaction two days ago, so naturally, I begin scanning the crowd for her pretty, blonde head. My small flurry of nerves turn into a raging blizzard when I finally spot her in the stands. I can’t make out what she’s wearing besides a snow hat with a big fuzzy ball on top. It shouldn’t be as cute as it is. She had it last time I saw her too.
Prying my eyes away from the woman who throws off my equilibrium and captures my attention—in a way no one ever has before, I focus on the dry-erase board that Coach Aaron is holding that shows the next play.
Yeah, this definitely isn’t the NHL with our giant touch screens. Here we have dry-erase boards. When I bring my eyes back to the ice, I relax slightly when Freckles and Noah appear to be working together. Noah is an excellent skater, really advanced for his age. But Freckles is the slightly better slap shot.
We’re in the attacking zone when Freckles skates close to the Dragon’s net, the goalie is distracted by two boys shoving each other, allowing Noah to get the puck to Freckles, who shoots it right inside the net. The crowd cheers and I fist bump the two when they make their way onto the bench, the next set of boys going out.
I realize I’ve never fist bumped anyone and wonder if I should feel weird about it.
My high is short lived, because when my eyes search for Andie again, as they always seem to do, I see four burly men making their way onto the bleachers right beside her. And the reason I stop breathing isn’t because I’m jealous of some other guys sitting by her, no. It’s because I recognize those four sets of broad shoulders, currently decked out in Washington Wombats gear. I swear my teammates bought out the entire gift shop. They have Wombats jerseys, baseball caps, scarves, and even insulated water bottles. But all four are wearing large sunglasses, like that will keep people from recognizing them.
I groan and drop my face into my hands. Massaging my temples with my thumbs. I mutter a four letter word into my hands so the kids on the bench can’t hear.
“What’s that?” Coach Aaron asks.
“Nothing.” I snap my head back up and try to stay focused, but my eyes glide over toward Andie and my teammates again.
The crowd is staring at them and smiling, but Andie is focused on the game, completely oblivious to the famous athletes beside her. Wow, she really knows absolutely nothing about hockey. Maybe it’s because women are usually all over us—or trying to be—but the fact she doesn’t know who we are, nor cares, makes my stomach blizzard return in full force. Yep, she does something to me. I’m not sure yet if it’s good or bad, but it’s definitely something.
I see Bruce casually make a comment to Andie, and she smiles. He leans his bucket of popcorn toward her and she takes a handful, saying something to him, and then they both laugh.
My teeth start to hurt and I realize I’m grinding them as I watch Bruce and Andie laughing together. It’s not jealousy, I have no reason to be jealous. I focus on the game instead, not wanting to dive into whatever I’m feeling.
The rest of the game is okay, Freckles seems too intent on winning to bug Noah today, and the two of them don’t cause any unnecessary drama. In the end, it’s a pretty uneventful game and we win 1-0.
We exit the locker room after Coach Aaron congratulates the boys on a job well done. When I walk out the locker room door, I’m hesitant, worried my teammates will be there waiting to raz me and drawing a huge crowd. But they’re not anywhere in sight. My shoulders relax, happy to have avoided an overwhelming scenario, and also glad the guys didn’t take the attention away from the Wombats after their win.
But I don’t make it out of the arena before Freckles’ mom sidles up next to me, a little too close. She bats her lashes as she says, “Great game, Coach.”
“Uh, thanks.”
She giggles in an obviously flirtatious way. “The strong silent type. I like it.”
She’s not an unattractive woman, her red hair is pretty, I guess. And although she’s older than me, her skin is nice, she has freckles along her nose just like her son. But I like to be the pursuer and not the pursued. Maybe that makes me old fashioned, or maybe women throwing themselves at me all the time just gets old.
I nod my head once toward the woman, a dismissal. Hopefully an obvious one, then walk out to the parking lot. I spot Andie as she and Noah are getting inside her car, and she glances up and catches my gaze. She pauses before giving me a faint smile. I bring a hand up and give her a salute. My people skills are top notch, as usual.
When I look toward my car, I spot my teammates and roll my eyes. Remy, Bruce, Colby, and West are all grinning and leaning against my Tesla.
“What the he—” I stop myself from swearing in case any kids are nearby. “What the heck are you guys doing here?”
They chuckle and I roll my eyes.
“And did you really think the sunglasses would do anything?”
Remy takes his sunglasses off. “The shades were Colby’s idea.”
Colby shrugs. “You didn’t have any better suggestions!”
Bruce steps forward and pounds a fist into my shoulder. “Dude! Great job tonight.”
“It was cool seeing you coach the kids, man,” West adds, his face serious, like complimenting me is painful.
“Uh, thanks. But you guys really don’t need to come to the games.”
“We got back early from the road and thought we’d come show our support,” Colby says, tugging on the brim of his Wombats cap. “But who decided on the team name?”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, that was my first thought too.”
Bruce stares at the cuddly, furry wombat on the front of his jersey. “They could’ve at least made them look more tough. Like razor sharp teeth or something.”
West studies the wombat. “Oh yeah, you’re totally right. That would be a huge improvement.”
“Have their people call my people,” Bruce says to me. “We’ll get it taken care of.”
I roll my eyes again.
“Hey, which kid is the one who likes high-sticking like you?” Colby teases, earning another glare from me. He cringes and adds, “Too soon?”
“Number 55 is an incredible player,” Remy changes the subject. “Sweet power skating.”
The guys nod their heads in agreement. Bruce whistles. “Yeah, I loved watching him.”
“That’s Noah,” I tell them, then turn to Colby, “the high-sticker, actually. I’m going to work with him one-on-one a bit.”
They all stare at me with blank expressions.
“What?”
West lifts his eyebrows and smiles. “You’re willingly coaching this kid one-on-one? I think we’re all just surprised.”
“It’s not like I have anything better to do with my time.” I shrug, then lean against Remy’s SUV that’s parked beside my car.
“Is it because his sister is hot?” Bruce asks, causing me to bristle. He sits beside her one time and talked to her enough to know she’s Noah’s sister? Now I know how Colby felt when Bruce teased he was going to get that blonde at the party to go out with him. My teammates share amused glances.
“Interesting,” Colby says, bringing his hand to his chin and rubbing it conspiratorially.
“You guys are ridiculous. I’m not working with Noah because Andie is hot.” I push off the car and unlock my vehicle with the key fob in my hand.
“Oh, we know her name, do we?” Bruce teases. “I sat next to her during the game. She’s a sweetheart.”
I scoff. “Are you kidding me? Sweet is the last word to describe her.”
Bruce’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“She’s the crazy lady who yelled at me on my first day of coaching!”
All four of them erupt into laughter. Bruce and Colby have literal tears streaming down their faces.
Remy shakes his head, smirking. “Mitch ‘The Machine’ Anderson.” He pins me with a serious look. “I think you’ve met your match.”
