The Silicon Valley Connection

25 | aidan: print ('week 4: an athletic type of love')

Another double block with Ash. A float serve landing in an ace. A triple block with Cameron and Micah. I sneak a glance at the manual scoreboard. The red numbers flip three more times. Rowan, our setter for today's scrimmage, moves to send the ball my way, but I know better. Just as I jump for the spike, he drops the ball in our opponent's court. A setter dump. The scoreboard changes a fourth time and coach blows the final whistle, ending the match.

"That's all for today, boys. Good work today, head to the showers. Except you, Brentwood. I have a few words for you."

My teammates let out a few "ooohs" and some even pat my back in reassurance. I roll my eyes and let them, until the gym is completely empty, leaving only me and the coach.

Coach Ray takes a seat on the first row of bleachers and taps the space next to him. "Sit."

I do, and he cuts straight to the chase. "Why didn't you tell me you had a relapse?"

My eyes darted to his. "How'd you-"

He holds up a hand. "You've been exerting yourself more than your limit for a while. You know I appreciate the hustle during training, but damn it, Aidan. Your mental health matters too. I wouldn't have bit your head off of if you missed a day or even a week for fucks sake." He rubs his face. "All you boys are like sons to me and when one isn't doing well, I don't do well. No matter if it's on or off the court."

Shit. He only uses first names when he's pissed, and I just earned a first class ticket for this.

His face softens as he leans forward. "Recovery is just as important as the battle itself. Do you have a 'check in event' on the agenda for the rest of today?"

I pull at the tape on my fingers, avoiding his gaze and keeping my growing excitement about her sports events that bring me joy to a minimum. "My friend has a swim meet today that I am going to."

Coach leans back and raises a brow. "Is that so? She wouldn't happen to be the 'friend' who you meet with just about every other day after practice?"

I can't help it. "And if she was?"

"If she is," he begins, clasping my shoulder, "then you don't fucking let her go. Or I'll beat your ass myself."

I laugh. "Got it, dad. Anything else?"

He shakes his head. "Besides the fact that I'm a text away if you need to skip out on training or just to talk, nope. Now go hit the showers and get your ass to the natatorium."

On it, dad.