Darryl digs at the grass with the toe of his cleat. “Heard you’ve been talking to her.” “Says who?” “Is it true?” “I don’t see how it’s your business.” “She’s my girl.” “Was your girl. And she can text whomever she wants, especially when it’s about a class she’s taking with someone.” He takes a slow step forward. “But you want her.” “Hey,” Coach Gomez barks. “What’re you still doing out here?” I reply without taking my gaze off Darryl. “Just talking strategy, Coach.”
