Unadulterated Something, page 15
Campbell pushed herself up off the seat a bit to look over the raised back, which drew a wave of slightly-guilty sounding laughter from the girls, and pursed her lips as she dropped back to the seat. “Cheeky monsters.” The smile she’d been holding back a moment before broke free as she motioned between herself and Emma. “You know, I think they did this on purpose.”
Emma had to resist the urge to turn around again as the now decidedly conspiratorial-sounding whispers picked back up. “Yeah, that’s the vibe I’m getting, too.”
“I wonder just what in the world they thought would happen,” Campbell mused.
“Do you really want to know? I mean, I don’t. If I’ve learned anything in my short teaching career, it’s that sometimes it’s better to not understand what a group of teenagers that are clearly in cahoots is thinking, but I’ll totally get Grace and Molls up here and threaten them with unending pain and sprints until they tell us if you really want to know.”
Campbell laughed. “Aww, my hero.”
“That’s me. Your everyday white knight, at your service.”
Hushed whispers traveled from the seats behind them toward the back of the bus. If they’d had any question as to whether they had an eavesdropper, that question was now more than answered.
Campbell’s expression was an adorable blend of confusion and amusement as she shook her head. “I think I’m fine being in the dark.”
“Wise woman.” Emma grinned as she said in a louder voice that was sure to carry to the back of the bus, “What do you think of adding some dryland tomorrow morning and an early-morning skate before breakfast on Saturday?”
Campbell’s shoulders shook with laugher. “I can fit that into my schedule.”
A loud groan erupted from the back of the bus.
“You’re supposed to be the nice one, Coach Jordan!” Molly shouted.
“Mr. Giovanni wouldn’t do that to us!” another voice Emma couldn’t quite identify added.
“Whoever said that I’d be the nice one?” Campbell retorted, turning in her seat to look at the kids.
“You’re Canadian!” Grace countered.
Emma sniggered. “Okay, that’s a fair point.”
“Really not helping, Beauchamp,” Campbell warned, much to the girls’ amusement.
“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be the white knight again,” Emma muttered. She swung both her legs into the aisle and turned to catch the eyes of their players. “She’s not the nice one. She legit punched me in the head in a game once.”
“Oh my god!” Campbell dropped back to the seat with a huff. “Just let it go already!”
“Are you kidding?” Grace asked.
Emma shook her head. “Nope.”
“I hate you,” Campbell grumbled, though the insult was belied by the way she pursed her lips to try to hold back a rather obvious smile.
“Is there any video of it online?” Grace pressed.
Emma shrugged. “No idea.” She grinned at the way the team, to a player, lifted their phones and began tapping at their screens. “Now they’ve got something to keep them busy,” she declared as she dropped back to the seat beside Campbell.
“You suck, Beauchamp.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
Emma leaned to steal a glance over her shoulder at the team. The girls had moved from leaning against the windows to the center aisle, and they were huddled together as they searched the internet. Emma had tried to set up a few team-bonding type activities in the weeks since tryouts, but it turned out that them trying to find a video of Campbell punching her was by far the most effective. She nodded to herself as she turned back around. “Who knew throwing you under the bus would make for a prime team-bonding experience.”
Gina chuckled and caught Emma’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Did she really punch you?”
“Many times,” Emma said as Campbell groaned. “But, to be fair, I got her back just as often. We weren’t exactly on the best of terms.”
Gina smiled and turned her attention back to the road. “Looking at you two now, I would have never guessed that.”
“She’s mellowed in her old age,” Emma quipped.
Campbell barked a disbelieving laugh and shoved Emma toward the aisle. “What do you mean, ‘old age?’ I’m only one year older than you.”
“Hey!” Emma cried as she tumbled off the seat. Which, okay, was a bit of an exaggeration on her part, but it was totally worth it just to see the look of absolute horror on Campbell’s face as she fell.
The chatter at the back of the bus stopped for a moment when Emma landed on her butt in the aisle, and then the kids erupted in laughter.
“Wow, maybe Coach Jordan isn’t the nice one,” Grace drawled.
Campbell pointed at Emma accusingly. “I did not push you that hard.”
“You totally did,” Emma countered as she lifted herself back onto the seat. She shook her head as the laughter behind them began to fade, and grumbled, “I honestly don’t know why I like you when you keep beating me up.”
Gina snorted at that, but when Emma caught the driver’s eye in the rearview mirror and gave her a questioning look, she only got a grin and a wink for an answer.
Emma leaned into Campbell and asked in a voice low enough that none of their apparently many eavesdroppers would overhear, “Do you ever get the feeling that the entire world is conspiring against you?”
“More than ever, lately,” Campbell admitted with a little laugh as she touched her head to Emma’s.
“Yeah, me too.” Emma took a deep breath and let it go slowly. “But if this is what happens because of it, I can’t say that I necessarily hate it.”
“Me neither,” Campbell murmured. “This is actually pretty nice.”
Emma nodded. It was very nice. Unexpectedly so, really, given the way her chest suddenly felt all light and fluttery, but this was neither the time nor the place to even begin to unpack that information. “Yeah,” she hummed as she forced herself to sit up straighter. She smiled at the way Campbell’s brow pinched ever so slightly in disappointment and nudged her with her elbow. “You know, if you really were a nice person, you’d offer to buy me dinner since you just beat me up—again,” she teased, trying to lighten the moment.
It worked, because Campbell’s brow smoothed as she asked, “And whoever told you that I’m nice?”
Emma just arched a brow and gave her a look that dared her to argue.
Campbell groaned. “Okay. Fine. Tomorrow night?”
“I’ll have to check my schedule.”
Campbell huffed a laugh and gave Emma’s shoulder a playful little push. “Whatever, Beauchamp.”
“Whatever, Jordan,” Emma countered as she rolled with the push and then rocked back to bump into Campbell. “Tomorrow would be great.”
“Okay. Good.” Campbell‘s eyes crinkled as she nudged Emma with her elbow. “Now, not that this isn’t fun, but do you think we should nail down our game plan for the game?”
“Sure.” Emma reached for her bag to pull out her clipboard that had a dry-erase back with a diagram of a rink on it that she used during games. “They’ve historically played a more defensive style, capitalizing on turnovers and mistakes but never really pushing the tempo.”
Campbell nodded and took one of the Expo markers Emma offered her. “So if we can net a goal or two early on, it’ll be difficult for them to come back.”
“Exactly.”
“We’ll want to make sure we dial up the intensity right away.” Campbell leaned over to draw five Xs on the board. “If they’re stacked defensively, we’ll need to move the puck quickly to open up space…”
After having to do it all herself the year before, it was impossibly fun for Emma to have somebody to bounce ideas off to come up with a game plan. And, judging by the way Campbell would laugh and knock her marker out of the way whenever Emma tried to tweak something she had drawn up, the feeling was mutual.
Emma had known going into the season that Campbell had a remarkable mind for hockey, but they had been so focused on building the girls’ skills in practice the last few weeks that they hadn’t had a chance to get into strategy like this. Which was a shame, because the more they went back and forth with their ideas, the more she became impressed with Campbell’s tactical approach to the game. It didn’t mesh with hers on all accounts—and she had perhaps enjoyed their little marker sword fights a little too much whenever they had opposing opinions—but the result when they were able to combine their approaches was pretty damn impressive.
Maybe not enough to make up for their lack of depth, but certainly enough to make them more of a contender in the league than they might have been otherwise.
“Here we are,” Gina announced as she pulled to the curb in front of the long, low, shingle-clad building that housed Deerwood’s arena.
“Really?” Campbell asked, her expression one of genuine surprise as she looked up from the clipboard balanced between their laps to peer out the window. She shook her head as she looked back at Emma and murmured, “I honestly hadn’t realized we’d been doing this for that long.”
The bus stopped in front of the main entrance, and Gina called, “Go get ‘em, Knights!” as she turned off the engine.
Emma grinned and bumped Campbell with her shoulder as she slipped the clipboard they’d been hunched over during the drive into her backpack. “You ready to go win your first game as a coach?” she asked as Gina hurried down the stairs to go open the cargo hatches so the kids could retrieve their bags.
“Oh yeah.”
Emma winked at her and stood up to face the team. “All right. Those of you dressing for the game, follow your captains to the locker room. They know the way. Captains, I expect you all on the ice in no more than twenty minutes, so get it done quickly. We will meet you on the bench.” When Grace and Molly nodded, she continued, “Coach Jordan and I will get those of you who are not dressing settled in the stands while the rest of the team changes. Got it?”
“Hell yeah, Coach!” Grace yelled. She thumped the seat in front of her loudly. “Let’s go, Knights!”
Emma laughed. “Lead the way, Cap. Your team will follow you.”
Emma and Campbell high fived the team as Grace and Molly led the girls who would be suiting up for the game off the bus, and once it was just the two of them left, Emma stepped into the aisle and shouldered her backpack. She dipped her head in a shallow bow and waved a gallant hand for Campbell to go ahead of her. “After you, Coach.”
Campbell chuckled. “You’re such a dork.”
“You love it,” Emma sassed as she picked up the training kit.
“Says who?” Campbell retorted.
Gina, who was standing off to the side as the players hustled past her with their bags and sticks, waved to get Emma’s attention. “I’m going to go park the bus in the back corner of the lot, and then I’ll come in to watch the game. As soon as it’s done, I’ll get the bus right back here to pick you all up. Are you all still planning on stopping for food on the way back?”
“If you’re okay with that, yeah,” Emma said as she watched Campbell begin gathering the kids who would be watching the game from the stands.
“Of course. Just let me know where you decide you’d like to stop, and we’ll make it happen.”
“Will do,” Emma promised. When the last of the players who were dressing for the game hurried to catch up with the rest of the team headed for the locker room, Gina moved to close up the bottom of the bus again. “Thank you,” she said as she shook Gina’s hand.
“My pleasure.” Gina nodded at them. “Good luck, Coaches.”
The door to the bus closed behind her only a few seconds after she hit the sidewalk, and she waited for it to rumble away before addressing their players who’d be watching the game from the stands. “Okay, girls. Let’s go.”
Because Campbell had never been to Deerwood’s arena before, Emma took charge, leading the girls through the main entrance—pointing out the restrooms and vending machines as they passed—and then down to the stands behind the visitor’s bench. She shared an amused look with Campbell as the girls moved around, hopping back and forth between seats to sit next to their friends, and when they seemed pretty much settled, she lifted a hand to get their attention.
“Good?” When everyone nodded, Emma said, “Okay. Then it’s time for the behavior talk.” The girls groaned, and Emma laughed. “I know. I’ll keep it brief. The same rules and expectations that would apply at school apply here. Behave, be courteous, and, most importantly, be engaged. Cheer for your teammates down on the ice.” She motioned to the black and white team warmup jackets the girls were all wearing. “I know it’s hard sitting here in your warmups when your friends are getting dressed to play, but enjoy this time with your teammates. Have fun cheering for the team. Be loud. Be silly. And no matter what happens in the game”—she looked at each of the girls in turn—“be proud to be a Knight.”
The girls cheered, and Emma grinned at them all.
Campbell wagged a playful finger at the girls and added, “And, as my mom used to tell me when I was a kid, ‘Do not make me come up here!’”
The girls laughed, and Emma nudged Campbell with her elbow as they started back up the stairs. “Nicely done, Coach.”
“Me? You’re the one with the speech.”
“Was it a good one, though?”
“God, no. It totally sucked,” Campbell teased. She shook her head and added, “Seriously though, it was great.”
Emma smiled. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Campbell nodded. “I mean, part of me wishes it had sucked because that would be at least one thing you don’t do exceedingly well…”
Emma laughed. “You keep flattering me like that, Jordan, and it’s going to start going to my head.”
“Well, we can’t have that. I mean, if your head gets any bigger, how would you fit through doorways?”
“Mean!”
“I keep trying to tell you that I’m not nice.”
“Yeah,” Emma drawled, glancing around them to make sure they weren’t being overheard. Fans dressed in Deerwood’s colors navy and gold were beginning to filter into the arena, but they seemed more concerned with juggling their blankets and bags than the two visiting coaches walking past them. “I’m still gonna call bullshit on that one. I mean, you talk a good game, but you really just can’t back it up.”
“I can too!”
“Insists the woman who’s taking me to dinner tomorrow night,” Emma teased.
“I can cancel that, you know.”
“You won’t.”
“And how do you know that?”
Emma smirked. “Because you’re too nice.”
Campbell huffed and threw her hands up in defeat. “Yeah, I really gotta work on that.”
Grace and Molly were leading the team toward the ice by the time they reached the corridor outside the locker rooms, and Emma glanced at Campbell as they fell into line behind their team. “You ready?” When Campbell nodded, she held up a fist and said, “Here we go.”
Campbell bumped Emma’s knuckles. “Here we go.”
They stayed behind their team’s bench as Grace and Molly put the Knights through the usual pre-game warmup, trading observations about which of the opposing players seemed like they might be the ones to potentially hurt them the most on the scoreboard. They had worked well together during practices, but Emma hadn’t been sure if that ease would to transfer to games.
Practices were easy, after all. Introduce a skill, work on a drill—wash, rinse, repeat.
Games were much more intense, and rare was the occasion when things actually went to plan.
And, maybe it was because they had fleshed out their game-plan on the drive over that had set them up as a unit, but whatever it was, Emma was pleased to discover that coaching with Campbell like this was actually enjoyable. The give-and-take between them was natural and easy, like they had been doing it for years instead of just a few weeks.
Whatever the reason for their dynamic, there was no mistaking the high Emma got from it, and she was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet when the team came over to the bench after warmups.
“Do you want to do this part?” she asked Campbell in a low voice.
Campbell shook her head. “They’re all yours, Coach.”
Emma was aware of Campbell nodding beside her as she walked the girls through the things they had discussed on the bus. When she finished pointing out some of the things they noticed about the opponent while the team had been warming up, she moved aside just enough to make room for Campbell to help her lead the team in a cheer.
Deerwood put up a better fight than they had the year before, keeping the score closer than Emma had anticipated until late in the third period when Molly flicked a pass just past an oncoming player and right onto the tape of her sister’s stick. Grace threw a deke that made both Emma and Campbell yell before flipping the puck just over the goalie’s glove to send it tumbling into the back of the net and giving them a comfortable two-goal lead.
The final two minutes passed in a flurry of action, and when the final buzzer echoed through the arena, Emma couldn’t contain her grin as she threw her arms in the air. She saw Campbell do the same in her periphery as their bench jumped over the boards to swarm their teammates on the ice, and she laughed as they turned to face each other. “Not bad, Jordan.”
Campbell’s smile was blinding as she agreed, “Not bad at all.” She rocked back on her heels for the briefest of moments before leaning in to pull Emma into a congratulatory hug. “Good win, Coach.”
They didn’t touch very often—not counting playful jabs or the times they’d literally fallen on top of each other—so Emma was surprised by the feeling of Campbell’s arms slipping around her neck and pulling her close, but it felt perfectly natural to wrap her arms around Campbell’s waist. Her heart fluttered into her throat at the feeling of Campbell’s body pressed against hers, and she licked her licks as she murmured, “You too.”
“Seriously?” Emma muttered to herself as her phone rang right as a trio of knocks landed on her front door. Her apartment had been quiet as a tomb ever since she’d gotten back from working out with Lars earlier that morning—which had been great for plowing through the grading and planning that had piled up on her during the week—but somehow it didn’t surprise her that Val would manage to call right when it was time for her to meet Campbell. She grabbed her phone from the table beside the folders of quizzes that were graded and ready to be handed back, and answered the call as she made her way to answer the door. “Hey, you. What’s up?”
