Taming the Street Racer ✔️

04 | head in the game

For the next two weeks, I see Grayson at every practice. He's usually the one to come up to me before and after, saying something sarcastic to get my attention. We fall into a rhythm--he strikes up a conversation, I snap back, and we start bantering in a way that some may perceive as flirty. I'd never admit it to him, but talking to him becomes one of the highlights of practice.

It's a slow burn, feeling his eyes on me while I coach the kids and thinking of what outrageous thing he'll say when practice ends.

And every time we talk, I feel the familiarity between us grow stronger, more tangible. He finds new ways to make laugh every time, and I start to understand his weird sense of humor. I find him occupying my thoughts off the field, and I start to feel myself feeling a bit crazy. My feelings for him seem to only build off the intense I attraction I felt to him from the beginning.

Warmup today has proved to be more difficult than usual. I'm about to pass the ball to one of the kids when I feel him - Grayson - staring at me. Not me me, the coach me, of course. He wouldn't stare at me just to stare at me; he's just making sure I'm coaching well. We talk for a few weeks and I think he likes to stare at me for fun? I'm losing it.

Now I kinda miss him being the late big brother; I can't concentrate with showing-up-early-and-distracting-me big brother. My mind is so preoccupied elsewhere that I don't concentrate on making my pass child friendly. Without thinking, I kick the ball to a kid, hard. At the last second, the kid realizes the speed of the ball and leans out of the way, narrowly missing its trajectory.

"Hey, Coach Riveeeeeeer. You almost HIT me," he whines.

I shake myself back to the reality where I almost took a seven-year-old's head off and refocus on the task at hand. "I'm sorry, Liam! Don't tell your mom."

I wink at him and he laughs back, turning to race after the ball which is already halfway across the field.

For majority of practice, I make myself hardly aware of Grayson's eyes following my every movement. I try to not let it affect my coaching and start them on 1v1 drills for the first time. I divide them into two lines and the players at the front of each line come forward to play against each other while going to goal. When I tell them to form two even lines, Grace forces her way to the front of one of the lines. I guess she wants to go first.

Against Liam, the kid whose head I almost took off. I push my concerns for this pair aside and blow the whistle for them to start.

Grace takes off with the ball. Basically all the girls are cheering for Grace while all the boys are yelling for Liam to get back in the game. Despite majority of the group being boys, it isn't looking too good for little Liam. Poor kid; he's having a rough time at practice today.

But I hardly hear the cheers of the kids over one significantly louder voice, coming from the bleachers. I take my eyes off their playing for one second and see Grayson standing up, towering over the other parents, cheering at the top of his lungs for little Grace.

Go Gracie GO! You got this! Leave that kid in the dust, yeah, you got it! That's it, that's it! Don't look back, that kid's got no chance! Yeah Gracie!

I conceal my amusement for the sake of professionalism, but I can't help the way my stomach feels watching him get so worked up over Grace practicing. The other parents are not as amused as I am and they're watching him with squinted, judgmental eyes. But I doubt any of them have the guts to stand up and do something about it.

Thinking of poor Liam and the several feet already between him and Grace, I shoot Grayson my best please-shut-up look from across the field and hope he gets the hint. I know I should be happy when he quiets down, but the cheering feels awfully empty without his deep, booming voice.