11

Cleo

Something Permanent, Something Worthwhile

I glanced over my coffee and Miles met my eyes. A beat passed between us. I crossed my fingers behind my clipboard.

Miles shifted back in his chair. "I can do one thing that I can be the best at. I can play football. That's it. That's what I know I can do. Everything else is just an addition. At the heart of it, I'm a damn good football player. And I consider…almost all of my goals tied up with that."

"That's what I want to hear," Ryan confirmed.

He asked another couple of questions, all of which Miles answered perfectly. All the other coaches and people on Coach Lawson's team nodded their heads and jotted on clipboards - exactly what I was supposed to be doing.

But I wanted to ask him questions.

What's the goal that made you pause?

And why couldn't I stop thinking about that?

"Locke?" Ryan interrupted my wild train of thought. "Why do you want to transfer?"

"I mean, I don't."

That got everybody's attention - mine included. Mine one hundred percent included.

I dug my fingers into the hard paper lining of the coffee cup.

Miles suddenly realized the attention he had from his words and took a wide look around the room. He settled back on me.

"This is my second transfer and I'm here now and this is as good as it's going to get. I don't want to transfer. I don't want to get up and leave again. But…I'm trying to see if this could be worth it. Because I think it could be."

My pen stilled over my clipboard.

Ryan's voice stopped me from pressing my thighs together. "What're you looking for then?"

His answer was quick. "Something permanent."

My eyes flashed down to my clipboard. I couldn't meet his eyes again, I couldn't do it. Regardless, I felt his gaze.

"I want something permanent," he repeated softly. "I want something worthwhile."

Okay. He's absolutely talking to me.

And I had no idea how to respond.

"Alright. That's fine." Ryan scratched a few notes in his notebook and nodded. "Do you have a serious arrest record that we need to be aware of? We'll perform a background check, but now is the time to tell us."

"What? No."

"Fine. Interview's finished," Ryan said.

Miles frowned. "That's it?"

Yeah, that was how the captain of the Marrs football team did it. Short, sweet, to the point, and with a grumpy attitude. If there was anything Ryan hated most, it was admin work.

"That's it," Ryan confirmed.

"Huh. Okay. I mean, this isn't my first—usually they ask me what my favorite movie is or something."

The team captain stared into the screen. "This is college football for one of the best teams in the nation, Locke. We're in the middle of a one hundred and fifty million dollar football campaign, in the running for the Birchwood Bowl. I'm looking for one thing and one thing only. More football players to win us that championship. I can't imagine why I would care about your favorite movie."

Pure, uncut silence.

The laughter that burst out of Miles made me stiffen in my seat.

Did he laugh at that? Did he seriously laugh at that?

Miles defied all logic and grinned. "You got me there, man."

"Good. Are we finished?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Alright. Thanks, Locke," Ryan said.

Miles pushed up from the seat and made his way to the door. He hung by the frame, wrapping his fingers around it, and glanced back towards the Marrs team. "Thanks for the opportunity. I am sorry about my behavior earlier." His eyes flickered to mine and my thighs pressed together. "Thanks again."

The moment he left the room, I could finally breathe again. I buried myself in the clipboard, pretending like I wasn't affected by his presence.

Notes. Notes . I needed notes .

But the paper was completely empty. I hadn't even brought up the fact that he pelted Sullender with footballs during practice. Shouldn't I have thought through that?

"Bennight?"

I glanced up to see Coach Lawson looking at me, scratching his beard with a thoughtful expression. I swallowed. "Sir?"

"What do you think?"

Oh no.

"What did I…?" There were two other interns close to me, seven analysts, his assistant coaches and his assistants of the assistant coaches. Being the center of a meeting never bothered me before but I had to fight past the blush. "What did I think?"

"Yes. What do you think?"

The things I couldn't stop thinking about weren't things that Coach Lawson needed to hear.

When I thought about Miles, I couldn't stop thinking about how honest to a fault he was. No schemes, no tricks, just…Miles. I thought about how lonely he was. And how much I wanted to fix it. But, most of all, how much I was afraid to.

"I thought he was great," Ryan answered for me.

"Is that because of his stats?" I asked instantly, more out of habit than anything. "Or because the two of you don't like small talk?"

Coach Lawson guffawed.

"He's a fantastic player," Ryan pointed out. "His numbers are some of the best we've seen. And—alright. That could've had a part to play in it. I still like him."

"Bennight?"

I tapped my pen against the clipboard. Miles didn't even want to play for Marrs. What was the harm in saying something that wasn't true? I could see the cards I could play in front of me, the different moves to influence his position. But that wasn't my job and Coach Lawson was Coach Lawson. I couldn't lie to him.

"He's one of the best, not the best," I said hesitantly. "He could be. That's the problem. Take a look at the last three games. You can see in the final five minutes, he's lost interest. Miles Locke could be great. But he needs…structure."

The murmurs started and everyone began our five-minute discussion before the next football player.

And I stared down at my clipboard. With only a few days left at KYU, I thought I would be happy to leave Oklahoma. But that didn't seem to lift the cement block, weighing down my heart.