“All right, if you can handle it,” I teased, leaning over to grab a pen and notebook. “Not sure if you can remember it all, old man.”
“I keep it all up here.” He pointed to his temple and gave me the most playful smile.
“Sure you do.” I rolled my eyes. “If I recall, you weren’t the nicest person when I started learning how to clean millions of water bottles.”
“Well, smart ass, what did you learn during that?” He bent over and checked something quick on his phone. The motion caused his arm to bump into me, and I tensed. He was so damn close to me. “Sweat and tears build character, and while it might not have seemed like a glamorous task, it’s important to know every facet of a program.”
“Uh huh,” I said, but my mind was on his arm. His body protruded heat, and I wanted to snuggle all up in that. He rambled on about other character building tasks, like washing the coolers and organizing the equipment closet, but I focused on not breathing heavily. Slow breath in, slow breath out.
“Did you get that?” He nudged me with his elbow.
I nodded, but the look in his eyes stopped me. Oh my. Our bodies were inches apart, my chicken scratch notes spread out on his desk. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and the intense, heated blue eyes bore into me. I knew he felt it. I knew it with everything I was. Our chemistry was off the charts. I gulped, and he inched his hand closer to mine. But, as fate would have it, a knock sounded at the door. I jumped like we had been caught doing something horrid, not looking over notes with our arms almost touching. Not that scandalous.
Brock cleared his throat and smoothed down his shirt before opening the door. His voice changed into a soft, kind tone I had rarely heard from him. He leaned toward whoever was at the door. “Angelica, hey.”
A drop-dead gorgeous blonde stood at the entrance to his office with a smile that was meant for people you cared about. Brock pulled her into a hug and a sour, unwanted feeling crept up my chest.
She wrapped both of her arms around him and closed her eyes as they embraced. It was an intimate hug, and it was one I wanted for myself and myself alone. I stood there as they gazed at each other with a recognition I loathed. I felt creepy watching them, like I had no place in the room anymore.
“God, you look good Brock. It’s been awhile.” She laughed, prolonging the hug that would never end. I gulped, clenching my teeth down together. “Are you busy?”
“No. No. Come on in. Care if we finish this later, Grace?” He looked at me briefly, like I was a complete afterthought. It was irrational. It was so, so, so uncalled for, but it was still there, the sting of being tossed aside. He tilted his head at my silence. I stood a little too quickly and hit the side of the desk with my hip. I winced but rushed to find my bag and to get the hell out of there. He paid me no attention when I glanced at him one more time. He was looking at the blonde with a smile on his lips and kindness in his eyes.
“See you later,” I mumbled, walking out of his office and hating the way he looked at her.
I barely made it out the door when she asked him about me. His response was, “My intern.”
Technically, I was his intern, but the tone was off. This woman meant something to Brock, and I didn’t like it one bit.
Food. Food always helped. I scarfed down a snack before moving onto the next task. I busied myself with chores and nuisances to not think about Brock and the woman in the office. The worry and pain had no place at work, and I was disgusted with myself for getting distracted. He was my boss. It was my fault my heart crossed the line.
Sure, my brain understood the words, but my heart didn’t comprehend the inappropriateness of it. Things changed somewhere along the way and my eyes prickled, like I might cry, and I took a long, thoughtful breath. No. I wouldn’t be upset. Work. I needed to distract myself and get busy. I threw on headphones and made sure everything was set for the guys in the weight room.
“Gracie,” Logan’s bold voice distracted me from down the hall.
“Logan, hey.” I set the towels down. His normal relaxed expression with an easy smile was gone. Instead, he scowled and narrowed his eyes at me. “What’s going on? You don’t look like your normal-self right now.”
He sighed, putting his hand on my shoulder. “I need advice. It’s serious.”
“I’m all ears.” I motioned toward the bench, and he followed. “What is it?”
“Feelings.” He put his head in his hands and looked helplessly at me. “I might have caught them. I don’t know though.”
I chuckled. “Logan, do you hear yourself? You’re ridiculous. We have a play-off game determining if we get to go to the bowl this weekend, and you’re worried about feelings?”
“Yes,” he shouted, shaking his head. “This girl wants nothing to do with me. Nothing. I can’t handle the rejection.”
“Are you interested in her?” I probed, positive the chase interested him more.
“I think so. She’s cute. I like hanging around her, but she won’t return my texts or acknowledge my existence.” He looked at me with wild eyes. “This has never happened to me before.”
“This is a learning experience for you, bud.” I laughed. “The chase is exciting. Work harder.”
“I don’t have the energy with playoffs.”
“Yeah, it has been a different world this past week. It’s crazy to think it all comes down to one game. You handling it okay?” I asked, grateful for the distraction he provided.
“Yes, but Coach turns into a monster during league championship games. We haven’t had a winning season in two years, and the man is hungry. He’s been here a decade without a title. A lot is on the line this weekend.”
“I get it. I’m fighting my own emotions about this potentially being my last week here,” I admitted. I’d yet to talk to anyone else about it. I was going to miss the hell out of this place, and I didn’t just mean Brock. “We better make it to the Rose Bowl because I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.”
“Shit, Grace.” He put his arm around me, squeezing. “You’ve grown on me. You graduate in December, right?”
“Yeah.” I squeezed him back, his easy friendship one of the perks of interning here. “Then, it’s deciding what the hell to do.”
“What are you leaning toward?” All his attention was on me. “You going to try and find a job here?”
“I’ve thought about it, but it doesn’t seem like the team needs two full-time trainers. I don’t want to be part-time, I want the full shebang.” I had been looking the past two weeks for all jobs related to athletics in the area. There wasn’t anything posted where I could apply.
“That makes sense. There are what, two community colleges right? Have you looked there? I’m sure Brock would give you a hell of a recommendation. I can be a personal reference if you need one.”
“Aw, thanks, Logan. Did Brock tell you we’ve been volunteering for a recreational football league together?”
“No shit! That’s awesome!”
“Yeah, I’m really liking it. I’m thinking of looking into teaching sports medicine. It’s a career course, so I wouldn’t need all the teaching classes. I could also be the athletic trainer for a high school.”
“You would be a hot high school teacher. Is that wrong to say?” he asked, grinning ear to ear. “I’m not hitting on you, by the way.”
“Wow, subtle Logan.” I hit his shoulder. “You don’t think it’s crazy? I was going to maybe ask Brock what he thinks about it, but I don’t know. This is a huge decision, and I can be a bit of a commitment-phobe.”
“Look who you’re talking to, Grace. I’m the walking definition of a commitment-phobe. Do what makes you happy or something you think will inspire you down the road. That’s why I coach. I love the sport. I breathe it, but I didn’t want to play it after college. The challenges of coaching are always changing with new talent and new seasons. Teaching would be like that. It’s similar to coaching, actually. You get new players with the same material. Each year is different but also t
he same. Does working with the youth of our generation and inspiring them with your awesome story sound like something you could commit to?”
I took in his words, and a slow warmth filled my stomach. “Yeah. I think I could.”
“Then do it, girl. Plus, you could always leave to come back to this. Maybe work somewhere during the summers to fix the itch if you get it. I don’t know. I think this is the right path for you after seeing how you work with the players. But, what do I know?”
“Thanks, Logan. I needed this talk today.” I tapped my fingers on the bench and relaxed—my feelings about Brock might be a mess, but I’d made my decision, and that felt pretty damn good. “It’ll be hard to find a job but—Shit!”
“What?” he said. “What is it?”
“My professor has a connection in the area teaching sports medicine. Ah! I need to email him right now.” I stood, grabbing my phone from my pocket. “Help me type this out.”
Logan and I typed out a professional, hopefully not desperate email, to my professor who had a sister who taught sports medicine. He reread it after I did, and I sent it. I leaned back, stretching with a buzz of excitement going through my stomach. “I need to head back, but let me know what happens, okay?”
“Will do. Thank you, Logan.” I stood, giving him a huge, bear hug.
He chuckled and patted me on the head. “You give the best hugs, Grace.”
“I’ve been told.” I pulled back, and the smile slid from my face as I spotted Brock, jaw tight and mouth pressed in a firm line, leaning against the weight room door. I did nothing wrong, but the look he gave me scolded me like I stole all his money and burned down his house. “Anderson.”
His jaw ticked at my use of his last name, his voice flat. “Grace.” His gaze flicked to Logan then back to me. The twitch came back in his jaw, but before I could do anything, he barked at Logan. “Let’s go. They need us down there now.”
“Sure thing.” Logan then winked at me. “Let me know what your professor says.”
“Will do. Thanks again.” I smiled at him, feeling Brock’s eyes burn me. Shit. They walked away. I chose that moment to escape to the training room. There wouldn’t be a huge need for ice, but it was cooler in there and away from whatever the hell just happened. He dismissed me in front of some bombshell and then acts pissed for hugging Logan? Ah, I hated drama. I turned off my brain and ignored everything related to Brock until I left for class. It was a futile attempt because he entered my mind every ten minutes.
I left class, putting my headphones in for the walk back to the apartment, not feeling any better about the afternoon. Instead of overthinking it, I focused on my future. It was officially resume and application time. My phone buzzed in my hand, and the sinking feeling in my gut only increased.
Brock: I don’t know if you remember we were going to meet at the coffee shop, but I can’t tonight. Sorry.
Grace: No worries.
I clenched the phone in my hand for two seconds—jealousy did not look good on me. We hadn’t had plans to go to the coffee shop, but for the past month we’d never made plans. We just ended up doing everything together. It was fine that he was hanging out with the beautiful blonde who made his face go soft and voice get mushy. Totally fine.
The internship would be officially complete after this weekend—regardless if we made the Rose Bowl or something lesser—since Brock was going to send in my review. Not getting to see him every day was becoming my reality quicker than I was prepared for.
The thought depressed me.
More than depressed me. It made me want to cry. I tugged my jacket closer around me and walked home. Overanalyzing should go on my resume because I barely made it twenty steps before questions popped in my head. Who was she? An old lover? An ex? A current fling?
He’d never said the words that he was single. What if he had a girlfriend? My stomach plummeted, but my brain perked up. How could he have time? He was with me almost every free second after work.
He could be a really good liar. I pulled out my phone, desperate to shut my mind off and use the awful excuse of alcohol to help with a distraction.
Grace: I need a drink, or five. You guys free?
Gilly: For a weeknight? For you? Hell yeah
Fritz: I’m with some friends but we could meet you somewhere.
Grace: Ollie’s. I’ll be drinking straight whiskey.
Gilly: Damn girl, I’ll head there now.
I quickened my pace toward the dingy bar not far from campus. It wasn’t the best or the worst bar in the campus town, but it did the job. They had whiskey specials ,and that was all my mind was focused on because Brock could do what he wanted. He could do anything. He wasn’t attached. Definitely not attached to me, his intern. Nope.
I pushed open the cracked wooden door and bee-lined toward the bar top. Turning my phone face down and on silent, I ordered a Jameson on the rocks and downed it in one gulp. The bartender widened his eyes and grabbed the green bottle again.
“Would you like another, dear?”
I nodded, pushing my glass over to him. The burn felt good, but it didn’t rid the worry and anxiety that rattled my brain. Did people feel like this all the time? The anxiety and pain and worry all combining into irrational thoughts with no solution?
He slid the drink over to me again just as the doors opened and Gilly’s voice carried. “G-Spot, you have me worried.”
I spun around and fell into her offered hug. “I’m in trouble Gil, so much trouble.”
“Money? Sex? Love? Drugs? I need more specifics.” She patted my head before hopping on the stool next to me. “For you to need whiskey on a weeknight, that’s a big deal. My bet is on your hot as hell, off-limits boss, huh?”
I closed my eyes, hoping the tighter I squeezed them the image of him and the blonde would disappear. She elbowed me, making me open them to face reality. “Yeah. A woman showed up today. Beautiful. Blonde. They hugged.”
Gilly frowned for a second before ordering a tall beer. She stared at me with her mouth twisting. I waited. I waited another minute before she finally spoke. “I have two things to express to you. Are you ready?”
I nodded, apt for her hopefully wise, helpful words.
“First, you aren’t familiar with jealousy. It’s adorable, actually.” She laughed, putting her hand on my arm. “This is what happens when people date. You get upset because guys are assholes. This worry is normal.”
“People feel this way all the time? That’s awful!” I moaned, vowing to not date for two years to prevent the anxiety.
“Yeah. It sucks, but you get used to it and don’t catch feelings.” She pursed her cherry red lips and continued. “The second thing though is being devil’s advocate. You hug people all the time. You have good looking friends.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No. You don’t know his relationship with this blonde. See my point?”
“Eh, not really,” I groaned before taking the final sip of my second drink. I held the glass against my cheek and appreciated the coldness of it. The first drink was already warming me up. “Gil, I think I love him.”
“I think you do, too.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She blinked a lot and ran a hand over her brow a couple of times. “My point was that you don’t know the situation unless you talk to him about it. If people didn’t know you and Fritz were basically siblings, people wouldn’t understand your relationship. Don’t assume and worry yourself until you know.”
“That is so much easier said than done.”
“Shit. I know.” She put her arm around me again and enveloped me in her perfume. “How about this? We get drunk. Order late night food and watch scary movies. Sound good?”
“I have to work tomorrow.” I lowered my forehead to the bar and rested it there in defeat.
“Everyone has been to work hungover at least once. Tomorrow can be that day. Do you have a lot going on tomorrow?”
I thought about and shook my head. “No. Not re
ally.”
“Then it is settled. If Fritz shows up, he can join, but until then, let’s get started.”
Regret. That’s what my mouth tasted like. It was a fierce, sour regret taste sitting in my sandpaper mouth when I woke up the next morning. My head was next to Gilly’s, her bare legs sprawled over me. I played back the night like a slideshow.
Ollie’s whiskey.
CO’s blue dragon night.
Gucci’s club.
Pizza.
Bed at 1:30.
I hated myself. I officially had the hangover from hell. I reached out my hand to look for my phone, the cold metal hitting my fingers. I prayed I didn’t text anyone. I scrolled through, back to front, and didn’t find a thing. “Thank God.”
My voice croaked, the need for caffeine motivating me to get up and throw on clothes. I found an old hat and called it a day. The hat concealed how much of a hot mess I was, and I somehow hobbled to my car to drive to the coffee shop. Eating was the fastest way to cure a hangover, even though the thought of food made me want to vomit. Vomit big time. I covered my mouth with my hand and shoved a piece of gum in it.
Why did I do this?
Oh, because I had a moment of insanity about Brock. It’s his fault. Yeah, blame him.
I pulled into the parking lot and set my head on the wheel, taking breaths. I could do this. Worse case, I would throw up and never drink again. It took a full minute of slow walking and deep breaths before I ordered the largest coffee they had and a warm, buttery chocolate croissant. I waited patiently for it when the entrance opened. A familiar laugh floated through the shop. I glanced at the door just as Brock and the blonde walked into the shop together. His arm was around her shoulder, both of them smiling.
I put my hand over my mouth, running to the bathroom. I threw up as soon as I got in there. My eyes watered, and my throat burned. The worst of it was the weight nestling itself in my chest, right by my heart. She’d slept over. The sickening feeling crushed my soul. I had no right and yet, I felt every ounce of it. I pushed myself up and wiped under my eyes. I washed out my mouth in the faucet and manned the hell up. I wouldn’t let him see me cry. Nope. I would not give him that.
Internship with the Devil (Shut Up and Kiss Me Book 1) Page 23
