An Ordinary Fairy Tale

by C. B. Stagg

  Soon enough, the kids started to arrive and Casey wasted no time diving right into their familiar routine. A routine that still didn’t seem to include an assistant coach. The man was nothing if not consistent—at least where his attitude toward me during practice and his level of sexy were concerned. Maybe he thought ignoring me would make me disappear, but I took it as a personal challenge. I planned to break through that tough outer shell to find that teddy bear hiding under all that bulk and hair. I’d seen him smile today, so it was clear I was making progress.

  The players trickled onto the field and made their way to the bench where they stored their water. Several of the moms and dads just dropped their kids off, but a few stuck around, armed with chairs to either watch practice or work on a laptop or tablet. I intended to introduce myself to as many parents as I could, but quickly got lost in watching Casey as he addressed the players upon arrival. He greeted each one by name, along with a complicated, customized handshake for each.

  Casey’s interaction with the kids was breathtaking. He spent so much of his time practicing with the kids, rather than telling them what to do. He was a man of few words, but his actions were both authoritative and nurturing. With many of the games and drills, he handed the reins over to other players to take charge, putting himself in their place. The chosen child would run the drill, and Casey would participate alongside the others, just like one of the team. There were a few times I even caught him changing his form so that the child in charge had to come and correct him.

  As an onlooker, it was entertaining, like a silly clown at the circus. Casey’s mistakes were met with laughs all around. As a teacher, however, I knew what he was doing. By entrusting individual team members with vital parts of practice, he was building their self-confidence. He was also teaching other members of the team to rely on each other. His instincts for teaching were brilliant.

  At first, I’d seen Casey Clark as a man who struggled to get along with adults, or at least one who struggled to get along with me. But now I was getting a glimpse of his big, squishy heart peeking out from his rough exterior.

  I rather enjoyed the feelings of attraction I had for him, and I wanted more of that.

  “Thanks for the sunscreen.”

  It was after practice, and he was all packed up to leave, but when I started talking, he set the equipment bag down and gave me his full attention.

  “Thanks for coming back,” he mumbled, shrugging his broad shoulders.

  I smiled and shook my head. “Well, it’s gonna take a lot more than your grumpy lumberjack act to scare me away.” I nodded to punctuate my statement, proud of myself for growing some and actually having a conversation with this strange man.

  He stared at the ground and thought about that for a while. “You know, I’m not always grumpy.” His voice was much softer than it had been. “I just didn’t… you’re just… I guess, you’re not what I was expecting, that’s all.” He held my gaze with a new level of intensity.

  “Um, right back at ya, dude.”

  We did that uncomfortable thing where we both laughed, but neither was sincere, then both smiled to mask our unease for the situation.

  “It was really great today, watching you with the kids. It’s obvious you coach because you love it.”

  Casey smiled with his whole face and, dare I say, blushed ever so slightly? “I sure as hell don’t do it for the money… ”

  That was met with a laugh deep from my throat. I knew, for a fact, all the coaches were volunteers.

  I looked right into his eyes. “Well, Casey Clark, unlike you, I’m actually glad we were thrown together. I have a feeling I’m gonna learn a lot from you… and maybe you’ll learn a little something from me.” Like, how not to be an ass. I grabbed my things and walked out to my car.

  “See you next week, Coach,” I threw over my shoulder, accompanied by a little wave. I may or may not have put a little extra swing in my step. Once I reached the parking lot, I glanced back. Casey was rooted to the spot, arms folded over his muscular chest, shaking his head with a smile.

  If nothing else, it was progress. And he was totally checking me out.

  The following week brought two more practices leading up to the first game. I approached my position a little differently and took a page from Casey’s playbook, inserting myself into different activities. I joined in as a member of the team, participating as they did. After all, one doesn’t learn by watching, one learns by doing, so I did.

  Or at least, I tried.

  Conditioning was a valued element in Casey’s coaching program, so each day, the team ran. We ran, and we ran, and we ran some more, building the stamina needed to compete in this high-energy sport. One day, I attempted to run with them. I was incorrect in assuming my longer legs would give me an advantage. Nope, not at all. I was a sweaty, panting mess in no time.

  “Come on, Coach Vaughn! Catch up!” I didn’t even know which mouth that came from, but the giggling that followed came from the entire team.

  After the running debacle, I was allowed only a quick pause to catch my breath. Minutes later, they were running all over me during passing drills, then kicking my butt in a chaotic game of Sharks and Minnows. I’d been mistaken in thinking I was in shape. Very mistaken.

  “You’re out, Coach V… again!” More giggles from the peanut gallery.

  I shuffled over to the sidelines a few feet away from Casey and collapsed on the soft grass. He casually moved closer and looked down at me. Probably checking to see if I was still alive.

  “What?” I snipped, popping up on my elbows. “Apparently, I’m out… again. I swear these kids make up the rules as they go along.” I let out a frustrated sigh.

  His smile was infectious. It had the yawn effect on me, and when he did it, I did it back to him. I couldn’t have stopped it if I wanted to.

  Which I didn’t.

  Done for the day, I watched Casey finish up practice. It was so hot outside, I was soaked in sweat, and he was too. At one point, he ran to his athletic bag and shed his sweat-soaked shirt.

  My gasp was audible. What I saw made me sigh in pleasure. He had strong arms and nice pecs. It was clear he had good upper body strength, but he’d earned his muscle from hours of hard work, not from hours in the gym. There was a dark smattering of hair across his chest, but otherwise, it was smooth.

  But what I loved most about his body was his stomach. The only thing I knew about the measures of male attractiveness was what I’d read in romance novels. Most love interests had well-defined six-packs, but the extra manly ones had eight-packs.

  That’s where Casey was different. He had a stomach that told me he’d enjoyed a beer or two at Northgate, the string of bars Texas A&M was famous for. He had a stomach that told me he didn’t count carbs or drink protein shakes. He had a stomach that told me he was real, and it was the most perfectly imperfect stomach I’d ever seen.

  The entire change lasted no more than thirty seconds, but I considered myself lucky that I was right there to witness it. Unfortunately, he caught me watching and as he turned to rejoin the team, he smiled and winked at me.

  I think he’s flirting with me.

  I think I really like it.

  Packing up after practice, Casey actually let me help. As I dragged the equipment bag to where he stood, I noticed he was looking down into my purse and laughing. “What’s so funny?” I tried to play it cool, but my insides churned, wondering what I could have left in there that he would find so amusing.

  He reached down and pulled out a well-worn paperback. “What is this, exactly?” he teased, waving the thick, blue book in the air. I tried to grab it from him, but being at least a foot taller than me, he was able to hold it just out of my reach.

  After internally growling at (but secretly loving) his complete immaturity, I opened my mouth to speak. He beat me to the punch, though. “Let me guess. Once you graduate, you’re planning a vacation to Scotland? Maybe hoping for a trip through the stones to find your own kilted
eighteenth-century Highlander?”

  I had to consciously close my dropped jaw while trying to neutralize my features. I didn’t like him seeing me rattled. And rattled, I was. “How on earth do you know anything about Outlander?” Just when I thought I was starting to figure this guy out, he pops off with something like this.

  Once he finished smirking, he said, “My mom is an editor. These are her favorite books. The summer after my junior year of highschool, I found myself grounded and, for lack of anything better to do, I read them. Of course, at that point, there were only four.” He flipped to where my bookmark was wedged. “I just finished An Echo in the Bone.” He looked satisfied with himself.

  “Well, I never would have guessed… ,” I mumbled as I shook my head in disbelief. The flit of butterflies I felt in the pit of my stomach when I was around him was quickly turning into a swarm. It was a full-on monarch migration up in there, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it.

  He handed the book back to me, but just as I went to grab it, he pulled it back. “Aye, dinna fash, lassie.” His perfect Scottish accent turned my knees to jelly, and I’d have given my right eye to see him in a kilt while speaking with that insanely sexy accent. “Ye kin ye canna resist a true Highland Scot.” And with a wink, he let go of the book and walked away, whistling what sounded like a Scottish tune.

  I spent that night dreaming of a kilted Casey carrying me on horseback through fields of lavender with bagpipes and pan flutes as the soundtrack.

  I was working through my shyness, but it seemed that my confidence grew the longer I was in Casey’s presence.

  “Hey, is there anything specific that I need to be doing?” I planned to step back into my assistant coaching role, but the job had never been defined.

  It was the last practice, just two days before the first game of the season. It was only a group of second graders kicking a ball around, but you’d have thought we were preparing for opening day of Premier League Fútbol.

  He stopped setting out cones when I asked the question. It was touching that he always gave me his full attention when I talked to him. It was a sign of respect, something I thought would take longer to earn from him.

  “For today, just keep the kids in line and focused. They’ll be all hyped up for the game and will probably act like fruit loops.”

  “Well, lucky for you, I have lots of experience with fruit loops.” I grinned. “I’ll do my best to wrangle for you today, but maybe soon you can teach me a little more about actually coaching?”

  He became quiet as he stared off into nothing. I used it as an opportunity to study his features. The skin not covered by his beard was smooth and looked soft, and his sloped nose was absolute perfection. My favorite part, though, were the fine lines around his eyes and on his forehead. It gave his face character, and if I were to guess, I would bet he was the type of man who only got better with age.

  “Maybe we can get tog—”

  He was cut off by a yelling, screaming, bouncing band of fruit loops, otherwise known as our team, the Strikers. While I was offered high fives, their love for Casey was evident as they tackled him to the ground in pure excitement.

  When we finally gained some semblance of control, I guided the little monsters to mid-field and started situating them for warm ups. Once we were set, my attention shifted back to Casey. He’d stepped aside to greet a woman and a small child I hadn’t seen before. He was a tiny little peanut with deep brown skin and a wild mass of wiry hair.

  Instead of falling in with the team, the child walked right past the kids to the far corner of the field. I watched as the little boy plopped down far enough away to separate himself, yet close enough to keep an eye on things. He settled on the grass and folded his legs up toward his body. Tucking his knees up under his chin, he wrapped his arms around his legs, as he drew into himself. He looked like a turtle retreating into the protection of his shell.

  I was intrigued by this mysterious newcomer who kept his eyes focused on the ground. I headed in his direction, though not directly. Clearly, he already felt threatened by his current situation. I didn’t want to create any undue anxiety, but the universe was drawing me to this lost child like a moth to a flame. Easing to the ground a few feet away from him, I positioned myself much the same way he had. He was watching the team run laps with his chin on his knees, so I watched them as well, paying him no mind.

  After a few minutes, the boy had scooted over, inching significantly closer to me, still maintaining his withdrawn position. He kept his eyes glued to the team or the ground. I turned my head to better assess the situation and saw him scoot even closer. As if feeling my eyes on him, he turned to look right at me.

  The moment we locked eyes, the world fell away, and all I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears. Those huge brown eyes held a fire in them I hadn’t seen before, and they sucked me in. The life dancing in them was in direct contrast to the broken boy in front of me.

  “Hi,” I said quietly. “I’m Vaughn. Or, I guess, Coach V to you. That’s what the other kids call me.” Nothing. “What’s your name?” Nope, just more staring.

  I glanced around to see what Casey and the team were up to, surprised to see Casey watching me with his intense stare. He met my eyes for a moment, making goose bumps scatter across my skin. His attention shifted to the boy, with an almost quizzical look, before shifting back to me. The expression on his face was soft, almost wondrous, so different from the scowl I’d become familiar with. I saw the slight nudge of his head, encouraging me to turn back to my friend sitting beside me.

  While all of this was happening, another dad had taken over practice drills with the team. My interaction with the child had also gotten the attention of his caregiver. I could see her in my periphery, slowly approaching from the side opposite Casey. There was something happening here, of that I was sure.

  I looked back at the small child. Just as I did, he scooted so close to me that his little arm brushed mine. His touch felt like home. I’d always maintained a well-defined ‘hula hoop’ of personal space, but having this child all but in my lap felt like the most natural thing on earth.

  I watched the boy, and the boy watched me, both of us captivated by one another. I closed my eyes to take a break. Opening them after just a few seconds, I met his stare again.

  Then something happened that will be forever burned into my mind.

  The boy mimicked me. He closed and opened his eyes, copying my actions exactly, like a slow blink.

  I wanted to look at Casey to read his reaction, but to look away might break the spell just when I was making progress. Trying it again, I blinked twice, and as soon as I finished, he did it right back to me, just like before.

  While still holding this precious child’s gaze, I could see the woman in my side vision. She crouched several feet away, her shaky hand hovering over her mouth in awe. In the other direction, Casey still stood separated from the team. His stance was wide, and his arms were crossed over his chest. He was closer than before, but frozen in his spot, watching.

  Blocking out all extraneous distractions, the boy and I blinked back and forth again and again. I’d never seen this boy before today, but I felt like I’d known him all my life. I recognized the aura of brokenness that surrounded him and the defeat in his gait. I understood his need to disappear inside himself, at war with his need for human connection.

  But contradictory to his mannerisms, I also felt the intensity behind his eyes. I didn’t know who or what had shattered his spirit, causing him to shut down. His pain gutted me—physically, painfully—radiating throughout my body.

  We continued our game a few more minutes before whistles blew around us, alerting the team it was the end of practice. The chaos of the fields came flooding back into focus all at once. The woman walked over and placed her hand gently on the boy’s shoulder, signaling that it was time to go. I watched as he stood and walked away with her, taking a piece of me with him. I didn’t want him to leave, not yet.

  A
few times, he turned back to see if I was still there and just as he stepped off the curb, he looked at me one last time. I blinked and gave him a little wave. He blinked right back, and I swear I saw the tiniest hint of a smile.

  4-Casey

  KEEPING VAUGHN AT ARM’S length had been intentional, but it hadn’t been personal. I didn’t dislike her, nor did I find her annoying. I knew that’s probably what she thought, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. It had everything to do with me, and the effect she had on me.

  There weren’t any words to describe what just being in Vaughn’s presence did to me: body, mind, and soul. She was a true beauty. The all-American, apple pie type, fulfilling every single one of my teenage fantasies all at once. She was tiny, barely five feet I’d guess, but she was curvy. The girl had meat on her bones in all the right places.

  But I knew I needed to tread lightly.

  First of all, I was married. That was a fact. Knowing that the marriage was ending was not a free pass to behave like I was single. Second, I was technically her course supervisor. I had to review her performance and ultimately, had the final say on her overall grade. Though not affiliated with the university, that was a line that I wouldn't be comfortable crossing.

  Those were the simple reasons I’d avoided Vaughn, but not the only reasons I needed my space.

  The truth was, she was becoming my weakness.

  I’d spent the last two weeks struggling against a magnetic pull toward this girl. Trying to keep her from invading my mind and my heart was an impossible feat, and I wasn’t strong enough to resist acting on my feelings much longer.

  The night before the last practice, I’d made it my goal to adjust my attitude toward Vaughn. I wasn’t going to be sugary sweet—that just wasn’t who I was. But I’d planned to be cordial.

  I could never have predicted what actually happened.