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Josh knelt to slide the first aid box into the rack. “But you like guys.”

“Amen.” Tyler grinned. “I slept with plenty of girls back when I thought I had to, but if I’m bi, it’s maybe 15 percent.” He held a hand out.

Josh let Tyler tug him up, and when he rose, he stood maybe an inch away. Close enough that heat sprang up between them, as well as the urge to kiss that mouth. Josh stepped back to a safer distance. “I never knew.”

“You never asked.” Tyler licked his lower lip. “Can you imagine if we’d gotten to know each other in high school?”

Josh smiled at that. “Yep. I sure can. I did. I imagined it a whole hell of a lot. As you are well aware, Fantana.”

“So you say.” A sneaky grin crept onto Tyler’s face. “I got a filthy imagination myself, Coach.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“You should see your face.” Tyler’s voice got lower, huskier, so that Josh had to step closer to hear properly. “You think I don’t have locker room fantasies, weight room fantasies, shower fantasies?” He groped himself. “What’s your pleasure?”

Josh laughed. “Oh no. Out here like this? Not a chance.” He stepped back and clomped back to the door of the bus and down to the pavement. “Thanks for the hand. Team will be here soon.”

From behind him, Tyler growled, “Any time, Coach.”

Someone sniffed. Josh turned to find Myra Waxman about twenty feet away, framed in the doorway that led into the athletics annex. High points of color dotted her cheeks like rouge, her disapproving frown making Josh feel a foot tall. It probably showed on his face. She hadn’t even caught them flirting and he still felt guilty. “Myra. Afternoon.”

“Coach Ayres.” She looked over his shoulder. “Mr. Fantana.”

Behind him, Tyler made some kind of sound, but Josh didn’t want to turn and find out what it was or why.

Most days, Myra tended to mother him, patting and stroking him a bit too much. He also knew that she was the kind of person who was pious as a hobby, and that she fixated on people to an unhealthy degree. But at the moment her waxy lips were so tight they looked pale.

Before things got weirder, he gave Tyler a fake thumbs-up and pointed. “Car.”

When they reached it, Tyler said, “Bet you anything that old bat’s still watching us.”

Josh frowned. “She’s just lonely.”

“You trust people too much.” Tyler unlocked the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Kick ass tonight, Coach.”

“I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. And we’re good for Reynolds. I’ll come get you soon as I wrap up practice.”

“Thanks.” Then Tyler whispered, “You can’t tell, but I’m kissing you goodbye.”

“I can tell just fine. And me too.” He closed the car door.

By the time he walked back to the bus and the building, Myra was gone, but he had the weirdest sense she was still watching them both.

THE NEXT afternoon, Josh paced the sterile waiting room of Dr. Reynolds’s office, sneakers squeaking on the polished floor. His stomach churned as the minutes crawled by. What was taking so long? His eyes darted between the parking lot outside and the exam room door.

Despite the nurse’s assurances, Josh couldn’t shake the feeling that Cilla Miller or some other sports flack might pull up to ambush Tyler if they didn’t get moving soon.

“Relax, Mr. Ayres,” the bald nurse said with a gentle smile. “Tyler’s in good hands.”

“Thanks,” Josh muttered, forcing a tight smile of his own. He knew the man was right, but each minute ticked by more slowly, until he glimpsed a flash of movement as the exam room door creaked open.

Tyler emerged, followed by Reynolds, her looking pleased and his face pale and tight, and though he tried to plaster on a smile, it faltered at the corners.

Josh’s stomach clenched as he took in Tyler’s defeated expression. Something had gone wrong. Reynolds shook Tyler’s hand and ducked into another exam room.

“Hey, superstar.” Josh stepped closer, reaching out to touch Tyler’s arm. “You good?”

“Uh, yeah. Great.” Tyler bobbed his head.