At my side, Eddie laughed, shaking his head. Meanwhile, I shot Sutton a wink and blew him a kiss. It had the desired effect. He rolled his eyes at me and returned his focus to Milo. I didn’t miss the slight twitch of his lips.
Sutton, jealous? That shouldn’t give me so much pleasure, but I’d be lying out of my ass if I didn’t admit that him being a little green-eyed didn’t make my dick twitch.
“Gentlemen,” Coach called to the players with a loud clap of his hands when we entered the court. It was full-sized with capacity for maybe four hundred spectators. “Take a seat, and let me introduce you to a few guys who’ve stopped by to help us all out.”
CHAPTER14
SUTTON
Out of thetwenty college players, I recognized at least thirteen of them from the occasional college game I caught on TV. The seven I didn’t know much about, I was interested to see their skill on the court.
Montview’s admission was fiercely competitive. It had been when I’d been at college, with only one player on my college team being offered a place.
A buzz of excitement hummed to life at being involved in supporting these young players.
I loved the game, always had, and while I wanted to move on to a position where I could put my degree to good use, there was something incredible about being here on this court.
High energy vibrated around the room as Coach spoke, and all twenty guys’ gazes drifted over the three new coaches. Taking in some wide eyes, a few whispers, and a couple of double takes, I could admit to myself that this was a heady feeling.
Sure, every time I was on the court, the rush was indescribable. Being here with players who were on the cusp of greatness, striving for their own kick-ass careers in the League, though, was something special.
After Coach did the intros, he split the group into teams, directing them to have ten-minute games. It allowed us to sit and watch the players perform.
While I knew our invite was based on my relationship status with Jayden, and hopefully being here would cut through any tension or uncertainty for queer, gay, or bi players, I wanted to get out on the court and prime their existing skills.
“Damn, Holland’s got some talent,” Jayden said at my side. Everyone in earshot nodded.
The kid was fast.
“Jimmy Lindt,” one of the full-time coaches we hadn’t met yet said, introducing himself and passing out some paperwork. “Here’s some basic stats on the players for you to look over.”
Immediately, I dug in, keeping half an eye on the court and the other skimming over the twenty names, their stats, and basic details. The Holland kid was just nineteen. But his age didn’t hold him back against some of the guys who had a couple of years on him.
“The players here this year are a good bunch,” Jimmy carried on, taking a seat in the middle of us. “There’s been the usual sort of dick-measuring going on, but after two weeks, it’s clear some are moving on and no longer feel the need.”
I bobbed my head, still half listening as he continued to give us more of a breakdown. Eddie, Paul, and Milo pitched in, giving their two cents on their observations of the players.
You could discover a lot about a player in a couple of training sessions and games. A whole two weeks of intensive strategy, and that knowledge moved to building an understanding of the person, rather than just the player.
I cast a sneaky look to Jayden. Since he caught my smile and winked, my attempt to be stealthy failed. But that was okay. I sent him a warm smile, remembering the first time we’d played off on the court during camp as kids.
He’d been cocky and fun, sure of himself.
The first time I’d really noticed, though, was when he’d screwed up a pass. It had been an amateur move, and he was ribbed for it by other players. I’d been expecting him to kick off or maybe even be embarrassed. Instead, fourteen-year-old Jayden had surprised the hell out of me by smiling, rolling his eyes at himself, admitting his screwup before he went on to legit saying out loud where he screwed up and what he should have done to get it right.
Not long after that, he’d winked right at me and gone ahead and played ball.
The group played for a while longer before Coach pulled them up. We all rose and headed to the court. Once there, Coach split them up into three groups, and Milo—thank Christ—took the lead and led them to the far right of the court, me in tow, curious about Milo’s style and plans while questioning what the hell I’d been thinking by agreeing to this.
I stood by, hoping I didn’t show my growing nerves. Heck, half an hour ago, I’d been keen. Now, with seven college kids staring at me, a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty on their features, I hoped to hell I didn’t screw this up.
The group hunkered down as Milo started picking apart their moves, intermittently offering praise, then following up with a reflection exercise asking for one thing they did well and one thing they needed to focus on.
I half expected eye rolls and sneers at such an exercise, but either Milo had already whipped out that reaction, or they were simply good kids. Well, young men, since I knew a couple were twenty-one.
Reflective practice was essential in this sport, though. It was the only way to improve your game and excel.
“Jacobs,” Milo continued, “you need to be upping your focus in zone defense.” Jacobs winced a little at that, which I understood. So often defenders were focused on one-on-one, but it didn’t mean players shouldn’t know how to defend a zone properly. “Sutton, what do you think?”
