The Odd Ballerz (15 page)

“Aubrey,” he said.

Her smiled widened in appreciation at his use of her first name. Jones belonged to one of the guys.

“Do you have any more camps coming up?”

“No, why?”

“Looking for a way to stay in shape. Until tryouts, that is.”

“You were in shape before you arrived. I’m sure you’ll continue to be so,” he said and her smiled widened at the compliment.

“That’s true. Still, I could always take on something new, variety and all. Do you offer personal training?” she asked.

“Sometimes, but my schedule this summer is on lockdown so I’ll have to pass. I could check with some of the other coaches if you’d like,” he said.

“No, that’s okay. I would prefer you, since you’re the offensive coach and I’ll be on the offense in the fall. Maybe as we get closer to tryouts, your schedule might open up. You could give me a call if it does, or I don’t mind calling you if that works better.”

“Either way works,” he said.

“Memphis is getting better,” she said, moving her gaze to the last of the campers finishing up their laps, of which Memphis was a part of.

“Jones, and yes, she is,” he said, looking up, finding Jones bent over trying to breathe as usual.

“How do I say this?” Aubrey asked.

“Say what?” he asked, pulling his gaze away from Jones to meet hers.

“It’s about M.”

“M?” he asked.

“Memphis, or Jones as you call her,” she said.

“What about her?” he said, his face shifting to its bland setting. Gone was the relaxed, somewhat approachable one he wore most times.

“Memphis and I go way back. I helped her out when her father died and her mother…” she said, letting her words die. “We are like sisters, she and I, and, well, she has this thing, has always had this thing. It has gone undiagnosed until recently. Finally, last year she went to get help, which means she was tested for a variety of learning issues. Dyspraxia is the clinical term for what ails her, also known as clumsy child syndrome, which you can see she still suffers from. Falls often, problems with balance, that type of thing. It was the same growing up, worse actually if you can believe that,” she said, glancing at him. He was staring in M’s direction again, his face blank still. She continued on anyway.

“It could be more, sometimes it can impede learning, but if that was the case, M must have learned to work around it. I wouldn’t know, because she doesn’t talk about it with anyone. She hasn’t told her sisters, has only shared the basics of it with me. Stubborn and a little prideful if you ask me, but it’s her way, so what can you do. Anyway, I think it’s important that you know. She could get hurt out here. It’s up to those that care about her to make sure she’s safe. It’s what good friends do.”

“And as her good friend, you thought I should know this?” he said, his eyes meeting her again.

“Yes. See, I knew you would understand. I was hoping you would,” she said, and smiled.

“I do,” he said, and she wished she could read him. He’d removed his shades during her talk, and those pretty eyes of his were focused solely on her, and sadly she still had no clue to his thoughts.

“I’m enjoying camp. I’m glad I came out for it. Glad that I’ll make the team,” she said.

“Me too,” he said, and smiled, fuller, and this was the first time she’d really seen him do so. She felt heartened by the sight of it.

“I hope you don’t get the wrong impression of me, talking about Memphis behind her back. It’s just that I’ve known her a long time, that’s all. She’s like a little sister to me. I’m only trying to help—keep her safe.”

“No, not at all,” he said, his gaze moving back to Jones and Luke, who were both walking to the middle of the football field. Coach Beryl had blown the whistle and kids were taking their places on the field. It was warm-up stretching time.

“I’d better get in line,” Aubrey said, her gaze back on Z. “I’ll drop my card off before I leave today in case your schedule opens up,” she said, backing away.

“Great,” he said and watched her leave before his gaze returned to Jones and Luke, who were laughing about something now. Interesting, he thought about Aubrey’s words. It made perfect sense, a reason, just as he suspected, for the good and the bad of Jones’s athletic ability. Dyspraxia, huh? He’d have to look that one up. He wished she had said something to him, her sisters… somebody. The campers had moved on to the jumping jacks part of their drills, and Jones was laughing again. At what he had no idea, and what an interesting woman she was turning out to be.

# # #

Calisthenics were over and done with and Z, the ready, set, and go guy, was almost done with the timed forty-yard runs. He stood watching what was left of the lines and it was last but not least, for Jones and Luke, waiting to give it their final try. Friday was the last day of camp, and as such, it would be jam packed with the final end of camp events. So today was the end of the line for any and all drills.

Jones was up to her usual pre-run talking to herself. Z could see her lips moving from where he stood. He’d watched her enough over the last five days to know what to expect from her. Next would be the shaking out of her limbs, and yep, there she went. Luckily the swaying on her feet had just been the one time.

It was amazing how a few words could change the lens by which you viewed a person. In the span of ten minutes, he’d gone from seeing her as inept and clumsy, which she was, but she was also more, someone who was moving forward in spite of her difficulties, a little courageous even.

He headed over to her, his instinct driving him, knowing full well that his fellow coaches would give him grief about this, his next move. They were like hound dogs on a scent when it came to finding a soft spot to exploit. He walked over anyway. He’d speak to Luke first, he decided, subtle subterfuge, and maybe that would be enough of a cover to keep his hound dog brothers off the scent. The need to do something to help her, overrode his need to protect himself from them, it seemed, so he continued on his journey until he stood directly in front of Luke.

“Hey, Coach,” Luke said, looking up in surprise. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. I wanted to talk to you before you took your run, this being your last day and all, your last chance at getting in a good time. I wanted it to be your best,” he said.

“Thanks, Coach,” Luke said, his smile huge, eyes sparkling at the attention.

“So, let’s start by taking a few deep breaths,” Z said, looking into Luke’s face, covered in freckles and nerves, remembering a time when he’d been this nervous and unsure. Not in sports, no—that had come easy to him—but in other things it had been all struggle.

“You can do this,” Z said, and smiled. He was rewarded with a tentative smile in return. “Remember to start slow, and picture yourself running through to the finish line. Can you do that?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Luke said, smiling.

“Make it fun. Remember that and relax,” he said. He touched the kid’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “You are going to run your best time. You can do this.”

“Yes, sir. I can do this,” Luke said, serious now, eyes fixed on the end.

“Okay then,” Z said, giving a nod to Coach Beryl.

“Set, go,” he said quietly, watching as the kid took off, managing to stay upright, moving in his odd gait towards the finish line and past it. He was beaming now, looking back at Z, who was smiling right along with the kid.

He walked over to stand in front of Memphis next, whose head, as usual, was pointed towards the ground. Her mouth was moving, talking to herself, shaking her arms and bouncing from one foot to the other. She looked, startled at the unexpectedness of him standing in front of her. He wanted to laugh aloud at her expression of shock, and there was the same desire he’d seen before in them, too, quickly shuttered. He kept his expression neutral as he always worked to do when he was around her.

“So, what’s up?” Z asked, facing her.

“What do you mean?” she asked, gazing into his shades, her expression on of puzzlement.

“You struggle with anxiety, don’t you?” he asked. He was standing really close to her, she thought. She could smell his scent, masculine and sharply spicy.

“Ah… sort of,” she said, going for the truth. Too surprised by his presence to do much else.

“I thought so. I want you to try something for me today. Will you do that?” he said, a small smile at his lips.

Anything, she thought. “If I can,” she said, watching him as he moved in closer to her, close enough to kiss her and…… wait… what? He looked away from her then, to removed his shades.

“Relax,” he said, when he returned his eyes to her, and God, he was pretty to look at up close, she thought. Her nerves were going crazy for other reasons now. “Relax,” he said again, softly, bedroom soft it sounded like to her, and then he smiled, the first time she’d seen this smile, all soft and small, and this was what sexy was supposed to look like, she thought. She met his eyes, a question in hers.

“You can do this, Jones. Now take a deep breath for me,” he said, watching her. “In and out, that’s it,” he said, giving her time to do as she asked again. “Now, close your eyes.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Ah…yes,” she said.

“Good. Now close your eyes,” he said again with the same soft tone, staring into her eyes until she did as he asked. She was not pretty, no, he thought again, but interesting, pleasing in a way, and when had he made that change in his thinking about her? “You can do this. There will be no falling today. You will run without falling. Picture yourself taking off, relaxed and easy, then running smoothly until you’re at the end. Today will the best time you’ve run so far,” he said, and she opened her eyes, and stared deeply into his. She saw compassion and understanding staring back at her, without a trace of pity.

Okay, he was the Memphis whisperer, and she could work with that. Relaxing and doing as he asked, mind free of nothing but his voice, all soft and sexy, telling her what to do, and him, standing so close. She could so get used to this.

“I want you to try something else for me.”

“Okay,” she said, softly, eyes still closed.

“Try and catch the thoughts that lead you off track, into nerves and self-doubt. You know the ones that tell you that you can’t. Replace them with
I can
today. Can you do that for me?” he asked in what she would forever associate with a bedroom, his bedroom.

“Yes,” she said, soaking him in. She nodded her head, and her old thoughts had all but disappeared. It was nothing but thoughts of him, and what it meant to have him here, standing beside her, coaxing, coaching, all of it helpful. He was some kind of sexy, buttressed with the same confidence in himself and his place in the world. It was heady this feeling. His hand had crept up to her waist. Softly it held her in place in front of him, and this felt like way more than a coach’s coaching.

“Now open your eyes,” he said, and smiled, the big pretty one. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, staring into his eyes. She smiled and took a deep breath.

“You can do this,” he whispered.

“I can do this,” she whispered, letting go of her breath. He didn’t walk away, just moved to her side, facing her left, his hand at her waist still. He looked away and over at Coach Beryl, who nodded his head. Z turned back to face her.

“Ready,” he said softly, and she nodded. “Set, go,” he said, just as softly, and she did go, feet in front of the other, determined to stay relaxed. She could do this. He’d asked her to, and yeah, she would, over and over in her head, until she was running across the line.

“Four point nine, and that’s really good, Jones,” Coach Beryl said, smiling down at her.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. She made her way over to where the other boys and Aubrey were standing, looking around for Z. He had his shades back on, staring in her direction, with that soft smile still on his face. She smiled back, relaxing a bit more, and falling into her crush a little more, too. Maybe Charlotte was on to something.

I
t was onward to more drills within their respective groups, with one small change. The receivers and the quarterback groups were joining forces today. Instead of Coach Z going it alone, throwing the ball all by his lonesome, he would have help from the boys in the quarterback group, yeah, practice for everyone, Memphis thought. The drill had changed a bit too. It was run left five yards and catch a ball thrown by a camper quarterback, drop it immediately, then turn and run left five more yards, and catch the second ball, this time thrown by Coach Z.

She and Aubrey were competing together for the first time, although Aubrey was in the front of the group while Memphis stood in her customary spot at the back of the line, still caught up in the throes of Coach Z’s whispered words and encouragement, not to mention, him standing so close. He had been close enough for her to see the hairs on his muscled arms. He had continued to watch her after her run. She caught him a couple of times, not that she was complaining. She always performed better when she focused on him. Five minutes and she was at the front of the line, waiting her turn.

“Wait, Jones,” he said, calling a halt to the proceedings. Everything stopped as he and walked over to her again. He stood in front of her, close just like before and she could so get used to him being around her in this way. “I don’t want you to worry about catching the ball today, just focus on running the routes. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

I can do whatever you want, she thought, but “Yes, sir,” she said. She took off, concentrating, no fear, hadn’t had enough time to worry, too surprised by the change and thinking about what it all meant to have him personally coaching her. She was done before she knew it.

A few minutes later, she was walking past him, heading back to the end of the line. “Good job, Jones,” he said and smiled, that soft one from earlier. “Keep that up for the rest of this drill. I only want you to run the routes. Don’t worry about catching.”

“You’re the coach,” she said.

“I am,” he said, and smiled. “You know you can talk to me if you need to.”