Chapter Twelve
Wade
I was still trying to catch my breath as I watched Eryn drive away and trying to tame the fireworks going off in my mind – cliché, I knew, but there was no other way to describe how it felt when we had kissed.
I didn’t even know what prompted me to suggest the kiss. Of course, it had been the first thing that had popped into my head when she'd asked if there was any way she could repay me for my help, but I didn't intend for the words to actually come out of my mouth! I really didn’t expect her to encourage it.
But now, damn… I was really glad they had. Wrong or not, that kiss had confirmed what I had secretly been feeling for her, she had also secretly been feeling for me.
But now what? That was the big question. There was, of course, the massive elephant in the room that I knew neither of us wanted to confront, even though we ultimately were going to have to: the fact that I was her coach and she was my player.
Not to mention the age difference.
But it was just so easy to talk with her. The conversation always flowed quickly and smoothly between us. It really wasn't as if there was any difference at all in years between us.
But the coach-player thing...there was no way that that wouldn't be a problem. A huge problem, in fact.
I supposed I needed to do some research, and that would mean chatting to a few people who had been working here a lot longer than I had. Different schools had different policies on things like this, and I needed to find out exactly what ours was. There was only one person I trusted to ask about a subject so delicate. Someone who had worked at Florida State for a long time; someone I knew pretty well, since he'd been my coach once upon a time: Coach Hatting.
The fact that we'd just won our first game by a very convincing margin would be a good reason to go speak to him and would make for an easy lead into the conversation. I took out my phone and called him up.
“Vinson!” he said in his rough, gravelly voice as he answered the phone. “What can I do ya for?”
“Hi, Coach Hatting,” I replied, “you in the mood for a beer or two?”
“It's 'Cal;' you can drop the 'Coach Hatting' thing, Vinson! I ain't your coach no more! But hell yeah, I could do with a Bud, sure! I'm guessing you wanna talk about the girls' first game, huh? How did that go?”
“We won!”
“Excellent. Well, then I definitely wanna hear about it. Let's have a beer over at Captain Dorego's. You can buy me a shrimp burger, too; how does that sound?”
“See you there in half an hour?” I replied with a chuckle.
“Perfect.”
I cut off the call and breathed out a slow sigh. A touch of nerves set in. I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to the questions I was going to ask him. Hell, I didn’t even know if Eryn would be open to trying that kiss again.
Nonetheless, I needed to know. No woman had ever stirred me up like Eryn. And I wasn’t about to pretend I wasn’t feeling anything.
Forcing down the anxiety, I got in my car and began the drive.
*****
Half an hour later, a waiter in a pirate costume greeted me at the door of Captain Dorego’s, and I couldn't help but chuckle under my breath at how unenthusiastic he seemed in his role.
“Arr matey, be you dining alone or with company?” he asked in what had to be the worst pirate impression I'd ever heard.
“A friend of mine is on his way. Table for two please.”
“Follow me then, ye'll be seated in Davey Jones' locker.”
I followed the teenage boy over to the table, marveling at how cheesy the whole pirate theme was and wondering why Coach Hatting had chosen this place. Perhaps, despite the silliness, the food was actually decent.
“A tankard of ale or a mug a' rum for ye, matey?” asked the teenager.
“How about two Buds?”
“Arr, two Budweisers it tis then,” he replied, and then hurried off.
I smiled as I saw Coach Hatting shuffling in as the pirate left. He walked over to me and we shook hands.
“Tell me all about it!” he said, getting right to the point as he sat down. “What was the final score?”
“It was a total whitewash,” I said with a grin. “We absolutely creamed them.”
“The score, dammit, the score!”
“We took it straight – three games. First game was 30 to 13, the next they only managed 9, but the last game Miami did fight back hard, and managed to get 28. It was too little, too late for them, though.”
Coach Hatting was overjoyed. “I knew it! I just damn well knew it! Gosh darn it, you've done a stellar job, Vinson. I knew that team just needed a real coach to take 'em to the top.
“That bozo who was there before, with his bribe-taking and general sloppiness, he did enough damage that they finished second to last in the league last season. If I ever see that moron, I swear to God, I'm gonna clock him, right in the damn jaw! But man, you're turning it all around, Vinson, you're turning it all around!”
“Don't forget that you're also responsible for this success, Coach — I mean, Cal. You coached them before I showed up, so it's just as much your victory as it is mine.”
“So tell me, Vinson, who were the star players?”
“Leena Kenton; I made her captain because she's a real extrovert and great at drumming up team spirit. She played well. Jacky Shay, she was great on defense. And Lois Bruin, she played her ass off. But I gotta tell you, Cal, there’s one who really played like an absolute pro-”
“Wait, let me guess...Eryn Barnett?”
“Yes!”
“It's a damn crime that she’s been on the bench for so long. It really is. She has the most potential I've seen in a player since...since...well, since I coached you all those years ago.”
“I know. She really does, and she really did us proud today.”
“Like you, Vinson, I think she could get to the top. I'm talking Olympics, Vinson, Olympics! Then the pro circuit. Just like you!”
“That's what I'm hoping for, too, Cal. I really am.”
We paused the conversation for a bit to sip on our beers. I wondered how I could steer the topic away from volleyball and more toward student-teacher relationships at the university without making anything too obvious.
“Cal, tell me about your coaching days. I mean...what was life like on the campus back when you first started there? You know, when you were a young man.”
“Hmm, well, I suppose it wasn't much different to how it is now. Of course, there weren't all them fancy gadgets and phones and computers and stuff, and I seem to remember kids spending a lot more time in the libraries back then instead of on computers.
“But that was back in the late ’70s and early ’80s, and I mean, the whole country was different back then. You know, we had just come out of Vietnam, where I served, you know, and...”
I listened to him go on and on, recounting stories about his early days at the University, and his time in Vietnam. It wasn't that I wasn't interested — he was telling me some pretty fascinating stuff — but I really was anxious to find out about the student-teacher relationship thing. I let him continue with his stories, but when there was a break in the conversation, I jumped in.
“Sounds like you had a real interesting time over those years there. I was wondering, though, what about the gossip side of things? You must have had some juicy stories to tell, right? I mean, did any professors, you know, get it on with their students and get caught?”
I asked about professors specifically because I knew if I mentioned coaches and players, he might figure that something was up with me.
He chuckled. “Ha ha! Well sure, it happened a few times. In fact, one guy I knew, he was a history professor. He ended up dating one of his graduate students.”
“Really, huh? And what happened with that?”
“Oh well, they had to keep things secret, real quiet. But they're married now, and have been for about 20 years! So I guess it was the right thing for them to do. Ya know, true love and all that.”
“And, he's still at Florida State?”
“Oh, hell no. When they discovered that he was dating his student, the university offered the pair of them the following choices: they could end their relationship immediately, or if they refused, either he had to resign from his post or she had to quit her degree.”
My heart sank. “So the policy was definitely against them.”
“Oh yeah. I mean, that's how it is in pretty much any university. It's a damned stupid thing to do, to get involved with one of the students.
“I mean, I get it. Hell, I'm a red-blooded male, I see all that ripe, young flesh struttin' around in skimpy outfits, I had plenty a'…how shall we say, impure thoughts about some a' them young women, but I never crossed the line, never. Not once.
“There's a big difference between fantasy and acting on it. And them's the rules! And you stick by 'em because that's how it is.”
“So, uh, what happened with this history professor and his student?”
“Oh, that guy? Well, he resigned. Got lucky and found a post at Florida West University, so it all worked out. She finished up at Florida State, they got engaged, and it ended happily ever after. But it was very lucky that he managed to find that other post.”
“Yeah, I guess it was,” I replied. “I guess it was.”
We talked for another hour about this and that, Cal told me a few more stories, but all the while, I couldn’t stop thinking about Eryn and that kiss.
I drove home from the restaurant feeling dejected. It seemed the policy was, for sure, absolutely no romantic relationships allowed between students and staff members, whether they were coaches, professors, or anything else.
I didn't know what was going to happen between Eryn and me. In fact, I didn't even know how to begin to talk about it. I hadn't heard from her, and I didn't really know what to say to her even if I had.
I knew that, technically, what we had done had constituted crossing a very strictly-drawn line and, in terms of that, yes, it was wrong. But at the same time, I couldn't help feeling that it had been so, so right.
I had felt it; she had felt it. The unspoken words that had passed between us as we'd kissed had proven that it was something we had both wanted. And I had no clue how we could continue to deny the attraction, the pull, the feelings.
I guess that since I didn't really know what to do – and, apparently, neither did she, as I hadn't heard anything from her – I needed to at least think of something. Pacing my bedroom wasn’t getting me anywhere. I got out my phone and began composing a message.
Hi, Eryn. I just wanted to check on you after what happened in the parking lot. I was going to call, but if you’re with your mom, I don’t want to interrupt.
But here’s the thing… I don't know what to say. I want you to know that it wasn't planned, it just happened. I don't know why. But it felt right. Still, despite this, I know it probably wasn't what we should have done. Let's, for the moment, just continue as if it hadn't happened.
I admit, I care about you very, very much, but your volleyball career is my primary concern. You are one of the best players I've ever come across, and I don't want you to get in trouble with the university. And, I'm sure you can appreciate that I don't want to get in trouble, either. So, for both our sakes, let's just pretend it didn't happen…for now.
And remember, I'm here for you, if you need anything, anything at all. Including car repair. :)
I read the message again and realized that I didn't even know what I was trying to say – but I was really stuck. It was kind of the best I could come up with. Not that it was saying much. I sighed and sent it.
I waited with bated breath for a few minutes, and then my heart began to pound as the phone screen lit up with her reply. With anxious, fumbling fingers I opened the message.
Thanks, Wade. I agree. I can't afford to lose my spot on the team and my scholarship. I really can't. And as you said, I need to put my volleyball career first. So it's probably best that we pretend it didn't happen.
And furthermore, we need to make sure that it never, ever happens again. I'm sorry, but I don't want to cross this line between us again. I don't even want to get close to that line again. Ever.
I appreciate all the help you've given me, especially with my mom, but I think it's best that outside of the volleyball court, we keep a good distance from each other. I know you understand.
I couldn't help but sigh and shake my head. What she was saying made sense, of course, and it was the reasonable and rational way to approach this. It sounded, though, like she really, really regretted that kiss. Had I read too much into it? Had it not meant to her what it had meant to me?
I didn't know what she was actually feeling, but I was confused…and maybe a little hurt.
I typed out a simple response.
Thanks for the reply. I agree – your volleyball career comes ahead of everything else, and I am sorry for stepping over the line. It won't happen again. Have a great weekend.
I sent it and put the phone in my pocket, then flopped down on my bed and simply stared at the ceiling.