SIXTEEN
Lakes is back to herself in no time, and she’s looking better than she did a week-and-a-half ago.
She laughs with Ramirez and Rose, oblivious to the stares from her other teammates. She’s racing during practice again, not letting the thought of a minor sprain slow her down. I guess she took my words to heart. She’s leaving the other girls in the dust during the practice sprints.
Veronika said Lakes was mostly healed when she checked her yesterday. She gave her the green light to practice again today and told Lakes to take it easy. Lakes is doing everything but taking it easy.
I’m sure she knew there would be some attention coming her way after what happened, and considering that Howard told the whole team that she got suspended from practice because of an accident (a blatant lie), some of the teammates are probably a little pissy with Lakes about it. Whether Howard lied or not, at least the other teammates know to keep their distance from Lakes, or they’ll end up being suspended too.
She seems much better now, though I’m not so keen on her new friendship with the quarterback. Football players are now on the field practicing drills, and whenever they get breaks, the quarterback comes over and calls for Lakes. She goes to him, smiling and blushing and being all girly, and something about that annoys the hell out of me.
Whenever I see her go to him, I blow my whistle. Like right now. She’s just finished her 200-meter practice sprint with two other girls and saw the quarterback stretching by the field goal post. She’s now standing in front of him and he’s tucking loose hairs behind her ear and smiling down at her.
I pick up my whistle and blow it. “Let’s go! Onto the 400!” I shout. “Let’s go, Lakes! We aren’t out here to flirt! Bring your ass on!”
Lakes steps away from Stephen, already looking at me. She narrows her eyes, rolls them at me, and then faces Stephen again, placing a swift kiss on his cheek before meeting up with me on the track.
I set my timer as the girls line up, then blow my whistle. They take off, Lakes wins, but then she stumbles a bit. She makes a pained expression, and Nicole and Parker rush to her. I sigh, jogging over to meet her.
“What’s up, Lakes?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Ankle is feeling a little weird,” she murmurs.
I bend down to touch it. “Feels a little swollen.” I stand back up. “Can you walk on it to the conditioning room?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Veronika is out today but I’ll take you back and check it out. Everyone else, head over to Hamilton. Tell her you need to stretch. Let’s go, Lakes.”
They follow my instructions, jogging to the opposite side of the track where Hamilton is training a dozen girls on hurdles, while I walk side-by-side with Amber.
“I hope my ankle isn’t like this for pre-season,” Amber mutters as we walk down the tunnel.
“Shouldn’t be. Are you icing it every night?”
“Yeah, for about fifteen minutes every night.”
“Well, you have pressure on it right now and aren’t in too much pain, so I’m sure it’s not too bad. We told you to take it easy today.” I open the door to the conditioning room. Amber limps her way inside and climbs on the table.
I take off my jacket, tossing it on the back of one of the chairs. “Lie back. Let me check it out.”
Amber lays back and I don’t miss the way her shirt lifts, revealing her flat belly. I avoid looking at her belly, picking up her left foot, and examining her ankle.
“It doesn’t look too bad.” I grab the tip of her blue running shoe, rolling her ankle. She only winces a little. I keep rolling it with my right hand, my left hand firmly gripping her leg to keep it steady. Her skin is soft, I notice. Freshly shaved.
I look away, at the wall across from me. I can’t look at a college student like this.
“Why do you always call me out when you see me talking to Stephen?” Amber asks as I continue rolling her ankle. I lower it and begin to massage the swollen area.
I avoid her eyes. “Because you’re supposed to be practicing, not flirting with football players. Do that on your own time.”
She huffs a laugh. “Sounds like you’re a little jealous, Torres.”
“Jealous of what?” I stop massaging her ankle and lock on her eyes. “I’ve heard terrible stuff about that kid. I’m sure you can do better.”
“You’ve heard stuff like what?”
“Lots of stuff. Don’t think this is his first rodeo with one of my runners.” I walk away from the table to go to the freezer. After taking out an icepack, I carry it back, and place it on her ankle.
She sits up and clutches the ice pack, lightly pressing it down.
“Wanna hang out here or go back to the track? You’ll have to keep the ice pack on it either way.”
“I’ll go back with you.”
She climbs off the table as I pick up my jacket. Clutching the ice pack in hand, she forces a smile at me as I hold the door open for her, and we’re both quiet as we walk down the tunnel that leads to the field.
Once we’re back on the track, Amber sits on one of the benches and I head over to Hamilton as the rest of the team stretches.
I fold my arms, glancing over at the quarterback who has just thrown the ball in a near-perfect spiral to one of the receivers. The receiver catches it with a loud smack.
Then I glance over at Amber who has the icepack on her ankle, a goofy smile on her face as she watches the quarterback take off his helmet, lift the hem of his practice jersey, and wipe the sweat off his forehead with it.
I roll my eyes and shake my head.
Women.
SEVENTEEN
At first, I felt like an idiot for going on a date with Stephen, but then it hit me that rumors can spread so easily around Bennett University.
Melanie told the entire track team it was my fault she was suspended from practice, but she didn’t tell the truth—that she’d purposely tripped me and caused me to take a week-and-a-half out of practice. No, from what Janine told me (and from what she heard from Christa), Melanie was suspended from practice because I lied by saying that she tripped me.
At first it bugged me, seeing everyone look at me as if I really was a liar, but then…I don’t know. I got over it. They could think what they wanted at this point. It wasn’t up to me to make people like me. That wasn’t why I came to Bennett. Yes, it would be nice to have a team I can be cordial with, but I’m okay with Kendall and Janine, and even Nicole and Parker are becoming pretty tight with me too.
I didn’t text Stephen right away after getting his number that day after class. Matter of fact, he’s the one who texted me first. And after realizing that maybe some girls had exaggerated the truth about Stephen Hunt, I figured I would take a chance on him.
I met Stephen for burgers and shakes after practice three days later and he was nice. Funny. Sweet. He seemed truly interested in what I am majoring in and asked me a series of questions that would only ever happen on a real first date, like where I was born, my favorite color, and favorite drink.
When I got back from my date with Stephen, Kendall and Janine were not pleased to know I’d been out with him, but it didn’t stop them from asking a million questions, one of which was, “So, how big is his dick?” That was from Janine.
Stephen doesn’t seem to be what everyone makes him out to be at all, and that’s exactly what I told Kendall and Janine. I feel terrible for judging him before getting to know him. Even more so now that I’m going through the muck of rumors and lies myself.
Last night after practice, Stephen told me to come to his place and said he would be ordering Olive Garden through Door Dash. Since it’s been three weeks of flirting, catching coffees together, and walking out of psychology together to study in the library, I figured why not. It was time to take this thing up a notch.
We’re now eating in his room of his apartment, watching some comedy on Netflix. All I can think about, though, is how judgmental I’ve been toward him.
“You know, I didn’t want to say this when we first started hanging out, but I heard so many negative things about you. Now that we’re hanging out, though, they don’t seem true.”
“Really?” he asks after slurping a fettuccini noodle into his mouth. “What kind of negative things?”
“That you’re a playboy who loves to hit on every girl on campus.”
“Mm-hmm…and what else?” He places his container of noodles on the nightstand and I press my back into the headboard as he sits up and looks into my eyes.
“That you can never keep a girlfriend for longer than a month.”
“Really?” His voice is deeper. Huskier. “And do you believe that?”
“I don’t know what to believe,” I breathe as his face comes closer to mine. My eyes lower to his lips.
“You want the truth?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not that I can’t keep a girlfriend for longer than a month…” He inches closer. “It’s just that none of the other girls have ever been the right one for me, so when I end it with them, they take it personally. They even go so far as to spread rumors and crazy lies about me. But I know who I am.” He places a chaste kiss on my lips. His mouth tastes like garlic and alfredo sauce. “But the question is, Amber…do you really want to get to know me?”
I’m on edge now. Heated. Having him this close to me does things that always trick my body. I do want to get to know Stephen, despite the awful shit people have said about him. I can’t even help myself as I wrap an arm around him, climb on his lap, and kiss him again. He chuckles behind the kiss, and I know I’m stupid for thinking it’s that simple with him, but I can’t help myself.
Stephen is sexy, and whether he’s a player or not, he is charming as hell and knows exactly what to say. Maybe this is how he gets the girls and he’s lying about everything he said. Or maybe he’s telling the truth and his words are just magic like that. Whatever.
Not only that, but I can’t even remember the last time I got to do this—kiss a sexy boy in private—and a quarterback at that. The last guy I dated, and the one who, rather uncomfortably, took my virginity, was a Dominican soccer player who cared more about his hair than he did his girlfriend. That was the beginning of my senior year in high school, so it has been a while.
I know boys in college can do dumb things. Hell, boys in general do dumb things, but that doesn’t mean I have to take Stephen too seriously.
I’ll let time tell me what he’s really about, and while I do, I’ll get a kick out of this thing we’re doing—flirting, kissing, and touching—because right now it feels too good to stop.
EIGHTEEN
My apartment is usually empty, but tonight, I’m stumbling into it with a red-haired woman’s ass in my hands. I noticed her while I was having a drink at Teddy’s. She asked if she could buy me a drink, which I found desperate and comical, but she was attractive, so I said why not.
She talked all damn night while I kept requesting shot after shot of tequila. Finally, I asked, “Do you want to get out of here?”
And now, here we are, stumbling over shoes and books and papers in my studio apartment to get to my bedroom. I bump her back to the bed and she lands on her back with a soft gasp. I’m on top of her in seconds, and she starts kissing my throat, running her hands down my chest. She goes for the zipper of my jeans, tugging it down.
This is fucking ridiculous. I don’t even know her name. Cathy, maybe? Kitty? I snort at the idea of her name being Kitty.
“What’s funny, love?” she breathes on my neck. Her head comes back up and she plants a kiss on my lips.
“Nothing.” I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping the humor will leave my system, but it won’t. I laugh again, and Cathy or Kitty jerks her head away to stare at me.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing—sorry.” I fight another laugh. “I’m just—I’m sorry, what is your name again?”
“Kitty,” she snaps.
And that does it for me. I thought I could contain this random fit of laughter, but I can’t. I fucking howl, falling onto my side on the bed. I try to apologize between laughs, but I can’t, and I blame the liquor, I really do.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kitty pushes of the bed. “You are a fucking joke! I’m out of here.”
She storms to the door, and I try calling after her, but I can’t bring myself to get her name out of my mouth without laughing even more. I hear the door slam, heels clicking, and then it’s quiet. She’s gone.
After another minute or so, my laughter dies down and I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. The ceiling fan is on and I watch the brown blades spin round and round.
I close my eyes, and a memory hits me. A memory that I’ve been trying to suppress and ignore since it happened. All I can see is my hand clutching a smooth, brown leg. Her skin was soft and she smelled good, despite the underlying scent of sweat from practicing.
“No.” I climb off the bed, stumbling to my bathroom, and turning the faucet on. I bring cold water up in the palms of my hands and splash it on my face, hoping it will snap me out of my fucked-up thoughts.
I’m thinking about Amber. Why the hell am I thinking about Amber? Maybe because she had shorts on today, and I hated myself for noticing. Her shorts were too short, and the sad part is, I don’t even think she realized it.
Maybe they were all she had and she didn’t have time to wash clothes, but fuck me, it was impossible not to look at her legs. Long and strong, yet feminine in all the right ways. Long legs that led up to a perky, curvy ass.
I shut the water off and leave the bathroom. Sitting in the recliner, I stare out of the floor-to-ceiling window across from me that reveals the man-made lake in my neighborhood. In the middle of the lake is a fountain that usually centers my focus.
She stretched today. Bent over, touched her toes. Her perfect ass was in the air.
Fuck. I can’t take it anymore.
I lift my hips and shove my jeans down to my knees. My cock is already hard as I lower my boxers just enough to fist it. I stare out at the lake, the tequila buzzing in my blood stream, and slowly begin stroking my cock.
It’s not slick enough and I don’t have anything around me to use. I don’t want to kill this moment, so I bring my hand up, spit on it, and wrap it around my hard cock again.
I stroke faster, staring out at the lake a moment before closing my eyes and throwing my head back, imagining Lakes.
What does she look like naked? What would her eyes look like if her mouth was wrapped around my cock right now? Would they be bright and innocent, as they usually are, or dark and sultry? Would she even know what to do with a thick, throbbing cock like mine in her mouth?
Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me?
I groan, jacking my cock faster, faster, until it’s twice as hard. I’m so close to coming, picturing her perfect ass, those silky legs, yanking on her wild hair from behind.
That does it.
“Ah, fuck!” I groan loudly and come way too hard for my own good. Cum gushes out in hot, thick streams, some of it landing on my jeans, but most of it dripping down the back of my hand.
I stand up, almost falling as my jeans slide down to my ankles, but I catch myself. I pick up a shirt from the floor to wipe the cum away, then I go to the bathroom to start up the shower.
As the warm water runs over me and my palm slides over my cock again, I groan in response, realizing I won’t be completely satisfied until I’m buried deep inside Amber Lakes. But that will never fucking happen because she’s a student—my athlete.
And knowing it never will refuels me all over again. I stroke my cock in the shower and come even faster this time, because that’s all I can do.
As a coach, I can never be with a student athlete—let alone my athlete—and even though fantasizing about her is just as wrong, it’s all I’ve got right now.
NINETEEN
A hand slaps down on my desk and along with it, a bri
ght yellow sheet of paper. I sit back and look up at Kendall who is giving me the goofiest smile.
“Popcorn, funnel cakes, fried Oreos, ice cream, and hella fucking rides!” She pulls her hand away as I focus on the paper she has on my desk.
“A carnival?” I ask, picking the paper up and reading the headline.
“Yes, I saw this on someone’s car. We have to go, Amber. It’s for Halloween so it’s supposed to have haunted rides and shit, but I don’t care about that. I just want a piping hot funnel cake with double the powdered sugar and some hot fudge.” She does a chef’s kiss.
I laugh, placing the paper back down. “What day are you thinking?”
“Tomorrow after practice. I’m going to text Janine, see if she’s down.”
“Okay. Sounds good to me.”
“But there’s one condition for you,” she says as she pulls her phone out of her pocket. “No Stephen. Fuck that guy. It’s just the girls tomorrow night.”
I laugh. “Why would I invite Stephen out with us?”
“I don’t know. He’s been all up your ass lately so I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up at the carnival.”
“Well, he won’t. I think he said he’s going to a frat party or something tomorrow anyway.”
“Well, good, ‘cause we are hitting up all the rides! Oh—and look what I got.” Kendall dashes away for a moment, only to return between the frames of my door, holding up a bottle of vodka.”
“Oh, shit! Where did you get that?”
“Remember when I met Janine at her place before we went to Wal-Mart?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, Christa had two bottles of vodka on the counter. One was for Katie and the other was for Melanie.” Kendall turns the bottle around and shows me a pink post-it-note on the bottle with Melanie’s name on it.
I break out in a laugh. “You did not!”
Coach Me Page 9
