Frankly, you were pissed. When your mom said you were the one who had to chauffeur your 10 year old brother, Derek, to his weekly little league baseball games. Babysitting duty. God, you should be at the mall right now, not slumped over some dirty bleachers, watching kids miss every ball and stack it in the dirt.

There was one upside, however.

The coach.

He was cute, for sure. Looked around your age, maybe a year or two older. It wasn’t his face that stood out, though. It was the way he would clap for every kid, even if they missed the ball. How he’d patiently tie up every shoe untied. How he’d smile and hand out orange slices to all the kids. How he’d carefully patch up scraped knees and bruised elbows.

It was clear the kids adored him. You saw how they gave him hugs before running over to their parents waiting by the gate. How they’d look at him like he was the messiah. The man clearly had a knack for dealing with kids.

It was now a hot day in the middle of July, and you are still sat on those bleachers, reading a book. Like you did every Tuesday afternoon. Reading at this time was never really easy, the crack of bats and the laugh of children pretty much always distracted you.

You sigh and look up from your book, adjusting your sunglasses. You see a paused game, with the man crouched over with your younger brother. From what you can see, it looks as though the coach is patching up his knee. The man pats Derek’s shoulder as he straightens up. Derek lets out a loud,

“Thanks, Coach Steve!”

Ahh, Steve.

‘Nice to put a name to the face’, you think, before quickly shaking that thought off.

The game comes to its conclusion. Children rush over to the gate with dirty jerseys, little baseball mitts, and big, sweaty smiles. However, as you wait by the gate, you see the coach - Steve - walking over with your brother.

You swallow and subconsciously fix your hair, for no reason at all.

Focus.

You smile politely at the pair.

Steve smiles back.

"Hey, just thought I'd come over and let you know, Derek had a little bumble today."

He pats Derek's shoulder. Not in a condescending way, like friends. God, who was this guy?

"I've taped it up, but some antiseptic cream tonight on the wound would stop it from getting all nasty." Steve smiles.