Mikey
I arrived at the stadium and made my way into the locker room. As I was stowing my gear in my locker to prepare for practice, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“L, you know you’re not my type,” I joked as I turned around.
But it wasn’t Liam; it was Coach. “Good to know that Andrews isn’t your type, Kozlowski,” he replied.
“Sorry, sir, I didn’t realize it was you,” I said, taken aback. Coach doesn’t usually approach me like this.
A strange feeling settled in my gut, a hunch that Coach was here because of Macey.
“I was informed that as soon as you arrived, I needed to send you upstairs to see Tom Preston,” Coach said, his expression suggesting he felt a bit sorry for me.
That can’t be good. I sighed and replied, “Fine.”
I started to walk away when Coach added, “Mike, is she worth t
