“Coach Paxton is still there; you know and like him and Paxton likes Tatum. It should be as simple as that.”
“And what do you think about Tatum?” She squints, scrutinizing me and I need to choose my words carefully.
“He’s taught me a lot. He’s an excellent player and I’m lucky to have been able to work with him this year.” My face is hot and I pray my cheeks aren’t rosy from talking about him.
“I see.” I don’t like her tone. I need to assure her he’s a good man.
“Really, Mom. You have nothing to worry about with him. This was a huge opportunity for us. Not many people get to work alongside a professional soccer player. He’s been nothing but kind and respectful toward all the girls. He’s been a monumental help this year, getting us where we are.” Thanks to my mom’s hectic work schedule, she never gets to many of my games or she might’ve met Tatum already. But I know, like every year, she’ll make it to the playoffs and then she’ll meet him and see how great he is for herself. The thought alone gives me butterflies. “I promise, Mom, he’s a really great gu—coach. He’s a great coach and you’ll see for yourself when you meet him.” Talk about a close call.
“Oh, sweetie.” I smile, thinking she’s accepting everything I told her about him. “You’re in love with him.”
Sonofabitch.
My jaw drops and I do an awkward gasp laugh which makes me look guiltiest of all.
“What? Who? Me? And Tatum? Are you—you’re crazy. I don’t know where—Mom, no. No.” I shake my head and laugh knowing damn well I sound like the crazy person.
“Is he good to you?” I sigh, defeated.
What do I tell her? Saying it’s a loaded question is the understatement of the millennium.
“He’s the best guy I know.”
At the root of it all, it’s true. It takes a special kind of man to own up to his mistakes and claim them. The fact is, Tatum had no reason to believe Amanda, to reach out to her or claim his son. He didn’t need to be in his life, but he wants to. Not many men would do the same.
Hell, look at his teammate Mitch who can’t even be there for his own wife and kids.
Tatum’s in a league of his own. He’s been doing nothing but trying to make everyone happy around him. He’s been strong through everything; through the crappy hands he’s been dealt.
God, before he told me he admired me, but I realize how much I admire him.
I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive him or to commit to everything yet, but somehow, even after everything he’s put me through, there’s no doubt in my mind—Tatum Trevino is one of the good ones.
My mom promises to behave when she meets him and to try not to judge him too much. I’ll worry about the rest of the details later, once I figure everything out between him and me.
After I finish packing and we eat dinner, we spend the rest of the night together, watching movies, before I head back to school first thing in the morning.
She already starts crying as we head off to bed, but I’ll see her in a couple of weeks and then I’ll be home for winter break.
I can’t ignore the pang in my chest reminding me that once the season is over, Tatum will be gone and he and I might be over for good.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Bria
“You’re back!” I run into my best friend’s open arms, tackling her in the process.
“It’s only been a week. What are you going to do when we graduate and we go our separate ways?” I ask.
“We don’t talk about those days. That’s months away. We’ll deal with it when the time comes and then I’ll handcuff your wrist to mine and never leave your side.”
I sling an arm over her shoulders and head into the house. When we get into our room, we sit on our beds and catch up on our week at home.
“How’s your mom?” she asks.
“Worried, dramatic, overprotective. The usual. She knew I was upset the minute I stepped out of my car and didn’t let me out of her sight for one minute.” Morgan laughs, likely because she didn’t expect anything less. “How was your break?”
“My high school friends and I went out for Thanksgiving eve and caught up. I don’t remember most of it.” She shrugs. “First playoff game tomorrow. Are you ready?”
“Hell yes. I was ready two weeks ago when we were supposed to have the first game. Who wants to win their first game on a Sunday? How are we supposed to celebrate after?” The College Soccer Association decided to push our playoffs back two weeks this year as a trial run, which is going to screw everything up, but whatever. It’s not my call to make.
“Well, we go to class hungover like normal college students.”
We laugh and Lindsay and Sydney join us.
“The team will probably go to dinner or something like we do every year with Paxton. But then I’m sure Tatum will come. Are you going to be okay with him?” I shoot my best friend daggers, but she doesn’t register my threat.
“What’s that mean?” Lindsay’s face is scrunched and he glances between Morgan and me.
My best friend’s mouth opens in an ‘o’ so large it would be comedic if I wasn’t severely pissed at her right now.
“Morgan,” I chastise and glare at her. She mouths I’m sorry! but the damage is done.
“You know. He’s been a dick lately. Well, he’s always been a dick but it seems extra lately, I guess? And since Bria has always been the target where his anger is concerned, I thought with the extra stress of playoffs and what have you, she wouldn’t want to be around him?” She doesn’t take a breath and every word sounds like there should be a question mark at the end of it.
“You’re totally sleeping with him, aren’t you?” Lindsay asks with a grin. “You lucky bitch. We all took bets.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Bria, he’s hot, you’re hot, you were spending all this time together, and he has a bit of a reputation. Come on. It was only a matter of time. I can’t wait to tell—”
“Nobody. Linds, Syd, you guys can’t tell anyone. Morgan may have blown it, but no one else can find out. Seriously. It’s…we’re not…nothing is going on anymore anyway. It was one time and that was the end of it.”
“You’re a stronger woman than I am,” Syd comments.
We laugh and I tell them the most basic version of what’s been going on. I make sure to lay into the fact that he and I are over and there will be no weirdness. I can be professional as long as he’s not an asshole.
The next morning, I enter game mode from the minute I wake up. Everything my hot douche trainer has taught me for months comes down to this. We’re six games away from winning the championship and it all starts today.
I keep my headphones on, playing my running playlist to pump me up. Our first match is against Sierra College and they’re a tough team to beat. Still, I’m confident we can kick their asses.
I avoid Tatum for as long as I can. He helps the team warm up and run drills before the game. It’s when he gives us our pre-game speech that I’m finally affected.
“Ladies, I want to thank you for this season. No matter what happens today, I want you to know I learned a lot this year. I had a rough year with being off my team, but I’m glad I got to spend it with all of you.” He makes eye contact with me as he says the last word and I look down. His words feel like a nail in my heart. “You’ve all learned a lot this season. There are some things I wish I could’ve done better or differently. At the end of the day, no matter how I got here, I’m glad I had this experience with all of you.” He looks at each of us before swallowing thickly. “Now go out there and kick some ass. You got this today.” On the count of three—one, two, three!”
“PVU!”
We take our places on the field. Since we won the coin toss, I stand next to Lindsay in the center of the midline. When the whistle blows, she taps the ball to my feet and I charge down the field. I navigate around the strikers with ease. When I hit the midfielders, I search for an opening to pass the ball.
&
nbsp; Morgan runs up from behind me and finds a path in the center. I kick the ball to her and she traps it before transitioning the ball to Lindsay. Linds runs down the field, getting to the last line of defense for Sierra.
She kicks the ball wide, but that’s her intention. She overshoots, hitting wide right where I slide into the pocket. I jump and head the ball right into the goal before the goalie is even aware I’m there.
If this is how we start the game, this is going to be easy.
The first forty-five minutes pass in a blur. We manage to score two more goals and our challengers sneak in one. We’re only up by two which is too close for comfort in my book.
We walk off the field at halftime and as circle up and drink our water, Tatum comes to join us.
“Bria, great job finding the open pockets. You’re quick and they don’t see you coming. You and Lindsay work like a dream team together.”
“Morgan, you finish the triangle. When the three of you work together, you’re undefeatable. Keep doing what you’re doing out there. It’s paying off.” Paxton pats the three of us on our backs and we walk away arm in arm.
“We got this, guys,” I tell them. “We’re the dream team.”
When halftime is up, we take the field once more. The half starts in almost the same way the first half started. We manage to take control of the ball and make our way down the field. Lindsay shoots and I head it, but I hit the crossbar and the goalie snags the ball.
She punts it down the field and the mistake helps SU infiltrate our defense. What pisses me off most, though, is how they manage to score. We’re only up by one now and I’m getting antsy. We can’t lose this game. We can’t end the season like this.
Taking control of the ball, I charge the field. Number three slide tackles me and I don’t see it coming. I go flying, landing hard on the ground. With a grunt, I stand and I’m glad when she gets carded.
I set up for a direct kick and wait for the ref to blow the whistle. The girls creating the wall have their arms crossed over their chests and are jumping to block the kick.
The whistle blows and I shoot. I’m able to find Morgan in the crowd and she sends the ball sailing into the net. I run up and hug her and the rest of the team gathers and gives her high fives.
There are only twenty minutes left in the half, which is plenty of time to fuck it up. We can’t slack off now.
We manage to maintain the ball and at the very least, we play keep away. I’m okay not making any more goals as long as the other team doesn’t either.
With the clock winding down, the other team gets aggressive. They want to win as bad as we do, but I’m not happy about their method. I get it; I’ve been there, but it sucks being the target.
As soon as I get possession of the ball, another player comes out of the woodwork and takes me out. She shoulder checks me as if I’m a boulder she wants to move. My ankle locks in place and I fall the opposite way. I cry out and the ref blows the whistle and gives the girl a card. I don’t know what happens to her; I’m too busy cradling my ankle.
Tatum runs onto the field and my team takes a knee. I manually move my foot, testing my ankle to determine how bad it is.
“How’s it feel?” Tatum grips my cleat in his hand and rotates the joint.
“Fine,” I grit out.
“Come on. You’re done for the game.”
“Coach, I’m fine.”
“There’s five minutes left. I don’t need you getting any more hurt. We’ll ice it and wrap it so you can play the next game. Don’t fight me on this. You’re not going to win this one.”
“I didn’t realize I won any of them.”
He gives me a look I can’t decipher and I roll my eyes before he stands and offers me a hand to help me up. I ignore it and push off the ground, limping across the field. Tatum tries to help me, to let me use him as a crutch, but I refuse. I don’t want any help from him anymore.
Within the last few minutes, SU scores and I scream on the sidelines. We’re still winning, but I don’t like having them score.
I count the seconds down out loud as the clock runs out and we pull away with the victory. The team celebrates and I join in the best I can. I line up to shake hands with the other team, walking with a crutch the trainer supplied me.
The two girls who hit me, number three and number twelve, both ignore my handshake and I’m convinced one of them tries to trip me again. Couple of jealous bitches they are.
When I hobble back to the bench, I notice Morgan and Tatum talking. I’m afraid of what she’s saying to him, since she knows everything about us. She doesn’t look pissed since she’s laughing and looking up at him like he hung the moon. I don’t know what game she’s playing, but I need to ask her as soon as possible.
He looks very upset which makes me uneasy. I shoot daggers into her back and when she turns around she gives me an evil smile. Whatever she did must be part of some grand scheme she’s concocted. I need to shut it down as soon as possible.
“Ladies, clean up and get dressed. We’re heading out to dinner. My treat.” Paxton is all smiles as we walk off the field. “Bria, make sure you take it easy on that ankle. I need you for our next game.”
I agree and hobble back to get cleaned up.
I’m lagging behind and Tatum comes up beside me. “Need help?”
“Not yours.”
“Can we talk? Not here. I…there are a few things we need to talk about.”
“I’m done talking to you. Everything you tell me is laced with disappointment.” My heart hurts to push him away, but it’s the smart thing to do.
“If that’s what you want.” I nod and Morgan jogs back to help me.
“Come on, Bri. I got you.” She gives Tatum a sly look and I lean onto her as she helps me to the car.
“What were you two talking about?” I ask her.
“You,” she says plainly. She throws me a wink and I groan.
This dinner is bound to be a disaster.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Bria
A whistle sounds from my doorway and my cheeks heat as I spin.
“Is it too much?” I look down over the slinky silver dress I’m wearing for the team dinner tonight. We always dress up for this dinner, but I thought my outfit choice might be a little risky.
“Hell to the no. You look hot.” Lindsay glances over her shoulder and whispers the rest of her thought. “If you’re trying to make Tatum eat his heart out, you’re going to succeed.”
I smile at my friend and turn back around to put the finishing touches on my makeup.
My roommate strolls in and does a double take as she passes by. “Damn,” she says and nods her head, eyes wide and appearing impressed. “He’s gonna lose his shit.”
“We don’t even know if he’s coming.” They both glance at me and roll their eyes as if I’m an idiot. Call it wishful thinking. I don’t necessarily want to see him tonight, but in case I do, I want to make a statement in the form of scrappy couture.
My hair falls in delicate waves down my back and I made sure to accentuate my blue eyes. I hope Paxton doesn’t overthink my outfit choice. Normally, I’d wear a simple skirt or sundress, but this year I’m ready to strut down the runway.
At least my friends are all dolled up too. Lindsay has her chestnut locks in a crown braid and an off-the-shoulder dress with a peplum skirt. Morgan, on the other hand, has her hair piled atop her head in an ornate up do. Her dress is painted on her body with a deep-V. This is pretty expectant of her, though. I barely bat an eye as I look at her.
The team splits into a handful of cars and drives to the restaurant since we’re all fresh and clean. Paxton is standing outside waiting for us all to arrive, but my eyes focus on the sexpot standing beside him.
Tatum in a suit. What a sight to see.
My heart starts working overtime as I trail my eyes over the suit tailored to fit him like a glove. The navy suit and crisp white shirt contrast his olive skin like a dream.
His
tattoos are hidden, but when he runs an anxious hand through his hair, a hint of ink gets exposed. If he rolls his sleeves up to showcase his artwork, I think I’d die on the spot from sensory overload.
He’s too perfect. No one should look as good as him.
“Bri, you coming?” Morgan asks as she hops out of the car. I was too distracted checking out my coach to even notice the car stopped moving.
I’m suddenly wishing I didn’t opt to wear heels, since seeing him makes my knees weak. But the decision pays off when we walk to the entrance of the restaurant.
I clock the moment Tatum spots me. His eyes widen a fraction and his gaze falls, focusing on my chest before trailing down to my long legs. He clears his throat and grabs the door for everyone to walk through.
“You all look lovely tonight. Let’s eat,” Paxton says before we make our way inside.
I manage to make eye contact with Tatum as I pass and smirk when I notice his thick swallow. Bria – one, Tatum – zero.
To say Morgan has been weird tonight would be the understatement of the year. She’s been by my side through dinner, shielding me from Tatum and his not-so-subtle looks he keeps shooting me. She’s gone as far as to talk to him directly, pulling him aside and saying God knows what to him.
But…it’s more than that. She’s almost…flirting with him? She’s touching him and laughing with him, twirling her hair and dragging her gaze over his body. It’s…weird. And insulting. And insanely obvious.
I swear, even Paxton has caught onto the fact that something is up. I noticed him pull our assistant coach aside earlier, and it looks like harsh words were exchanged. I couldn’t hear them, but from the hand motions and facial expressions, things appeared quite tense.
“What the hell is going on with you?” I corner my best friend as she takes a bite of her dessert.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been all over Tatum. Is there something you need to tell me?” I definitely sound like a jealous girlfriend and I can’t rein it in.
“What? I’ve been trying to avoid him, but he keeps pulling me aside. I’m just trying to be nice.”
Filthy Forward : A Hero Club Novel Page 18
