Chapter 5: A Place to Stay
The door of Coach Dunn’s office clicked shut behind me, and I pressed my back against it, letting out a shaky breath. The air was thick, stale coffee and old leather, but underneath it something else. A musky, salt-tinged scent that made my nose wrinkle. I tried to place it, but the familiarity slipped away. I shook my head. Not important.
Coach Dunn was at his desk, leaning forward on his elbows, the television flickering silently with footage of last week’s game. His jaw was set, eyes fixed on the screen, but they darted to me the moment I entered. He didn’t smile. He just watched.
I swallowed. “It’s done. I agreed.”
He waited.
“Three weeks. I replace the injured cheerleader. Bianca says I have to learn what it’s like to be… eye candy.” The words tasted like ash. “And she’s going to tell everyone that I’m—the quarterback me—is hospitalized with an undisclosed illness. So that’s the cover story.”
Coach Dunn nodded slowly, his thick fingers drumming once on the desk. “That buys you time.”
“Time to do what? Get ogled by the whole stadium?” My voice cracked, and I hated it. I pushed off the door and took a step toward him. “Coach, I can’t go back to the dorms. Dave already tried to…” I trailed off, the memory of his hand on my wrist making my stomach clench. “I’m a girl now. I can’t just walk into the guys’ wing in shorts and a jersey. They’ll…”
I didn’t finish. I didn’t have to.
Coach Dunn’s eyes softened, but there was something else in them. A flicker, deep and hungry, that he masked with a stoic nod. He stood, the chair scraping against the floor, and came around the desk. Up close, his broad chest seemed to block out everything else.
“You’ll stay with me,” he said, his voice low. “I have a spare room. It’s not much, but it’s safe.”
The words hit me like a tackle. Relief and terror in equal measure. “Really?”
His jaw tightened. “Really.”
But I saw it. The way his gaze dropped to my lips, then lower, before snapping back to my eyes. And I felt it too, a strange warmth pooling in my stomach, confusing and unwanted.
I didn’t know what scared me more: the curse, or the way I didn’t want to look away.
I opened my mouth, but the words came out scrambled. "Okay. Okay. So I'll just... I'll go to my room, grab my laptop, my playbook, my phone charger. The important stuff." I ran a hand through my hair, the silky strands slipping between my fingers, a constant reminder of the nightmare. "Dave's probably at practice, so I can sneak in and out. It'll be fine. I'll just wear my sweats and—"
I stopped.
My gaze dropped to my own body. The tight jersey clinging to curves I didn't ask for. The shorts riding up thighs that were suddenly soft and shapely. None of this was mine. None of it fit. Not just the clothes, but the whole damn package.
"Shit." My voice came out thin. "I can't wear my clothes. They won't... they're built for a guy's frame. My shoulders were broader. My chest was flat. Now I have..." I gestured helplessly at my chest, then dropped my hands. "I don't have anything that fits this body, Coach. I don't have a single pair of jeans that will stay on my hips. I don't even have a bra. A bra, for God's sake."
The frustration boiled over. I started pacing, my sneakers squeaking against the linoleum.
"I hate this. I hate every second of it. I wake up and I look in the mirror and I see some stranger staring back at me. Some blonde-haired, full-lipped, curvy stranger that every guy on campus is going to drool over, and I'm supposed to just... be her? For three weeks?" I stopped, turning to face him, my hands balled into fists. "I'm supposed to shake pom-poms and smile while the crowd cheers for the quarterback who doesn't even exist anymore. And the worst part? Bianca gets to watch. She gets to see me squirm."
My chest heaved. The anger was hot, but underneath it, something colder. Fear. Shame.
Coach Dunn's eyes held mine. That hunger was still there, buried beneath layers of control, but he didn't look away.
"I'll get you clothes," he said quietly. "For now, just get everything you need packed. I’ll send a notice to your professors that you’re ill and will need to do online courses for a few weeks.”
I let out a long breath, the anger draining out of me like air from a punctured tire. My shoulders sagged, and I realized my fists were still clenched. I forced them open, flexing my fingers, watching the way the light caught the silver hoop in my ear.
"Sorry," I muttered. "I didn't mean to unload like that."
Coach Dunn's hand landed on my shoulder, warm and heavy. The touch sent a jolt through me, but I didn't pull away. His thumb pressed gently into the curve of my shoulder, and I felt something loosen in my chest.
"You're allowed to be angry," he said. "You're allowed to be scared. But you don't have to carry it alone."
I looked up at him. The hunger was still there, lurking in the back of his eyes, but tempered now by something steadier. Protection. Care. The same look he gave a quarterback who just threw a pick in the final quarter. Disappointed, but not done believing.
I swallowed. "Thank you, Coach. For believing me. For letting me stay. For... for keeping a level head when I can't even keep my own hands from shaking."
He squeezed my shoulder once, then let go. "Get your things. I'll clear the hallway for you, make sure Dave's not lurking. Text me when you're at the dorm entrance, and I'll keep watch from the parking lot."
I nodded, a fragile sense of calm settling over me. It wasn't hope, not yet. But it was something close.
I turned toward the door, then paused. "Coach?"
"Yeah?"
I didn't look back. "Thanks. For not treating me like I'm crazy."
Silence. Then, his voice low and rough. "You're not crazy, Alex. You're just in a fight you didn't ask for. And I don't quit on my players."
I let that sink in, then pulled the door open. The hallway was empty, buzzing with the distant hum of fluorescent lights.
I stepped out, and the door clicked shut behind me.