“I fucking did. Fuck Melanie. I’m sure she can afford another bottle from her rich daddy anyway.”
I can’t fight my laughter.
“Tomorrow will be lit, mark my words. We deserve this! We have to live it up somehow before pre-season starts.”
“That, I agree with.”
And Kendall is right. Once the season starts, we will be traveling for races more often and practicing even more. We get a slight break over Thanksgiving and Christmas, but Torres has already warned us that as soon as January hits, it will be time to put our game faces on.
And speaking of Torres, I have to admit things have been odd with him lately. After that remark he made about Stephen, I couldn’t help noticing how much he watched me during practice.
I can’t even talk to Stephen during my practice breaks anymore because Torres is always blowing that damn whistle and calling me over or telling me to run partner drills with one of the meter girls.
For a while we were okay, and I thought we were on mutual ground. I assumed he had my respect and I had his after the whole thing with Melanie but, apparently, I was wrong. He’s gone back to his old ways. Hounding me, criticizing my formations, shaking his head when I finish a race, even though I’m running my fastest and finishing strong.
If I’m ever standing too close to him, he moves away. If I have a question, he always tells me to direct it to Hamilton, and it’s not in a polite way. No, he’s a straight up dick about it.
Kendall thinks I’m overreacting, but after Torres gave me that speech and made me feel special the day I was tripped, I thought something had shifted between us—a better relationship between a coach and athlete.
But really, nothing has changed.
He is still grumpy Torres and I am just another one of the girls he trains.
TWENTY
I don’t know what the hell I was thinking by agreeing to help my mother work her own concession stand at the Halloween Carnival.
She applied last year and now has her own stand near the Ferris Wheel where she’s selling spicy popcorn. She created the spicy concoction herself, and I must admit, it is a hit. People have been coming by all night to snag a bag. I’ve had a few handfuls myself and it’s damn good.
Too bad carnivals aren’t my thing. All the squealing and yelling, the loud music, and the tantrum-throwing toddlers make this an event that is not meant for a man like me. I have nothing against kids—in fact, I adore them—but when it’s past their bedtimes, they are not kind little humans.
Some kids are young and it’s getting darker and considering there are creepy clowns and goblins at every corner, they’re scared out of their fucking minds.
I’ve noticed several track students are at the carnival, boys and girls. I purposely sit with my back to the opening of the stand. I’m not in the mood to get personal tonight.
It’s a Saturday and one of my nights off and I’m wasting it by being here right now, but when Mamá calls, I like to be there for her, no matter how annoyed I am by the task.
“Oh, hijo, I only have two more bags left,” Mamá says after stuffing the cash from her last order into her fanny pack.
“Really?” She has no idea how much of a relief that is to hear. “So, should I start packing up? Take some of this stuff to your car?”
“Sure. That would be good. I’m going to see if I can sell the last two bags.”
I don’t hesitate. I’m up in a matter of seconds, grabbing Mamá’s keys, collecting the box on the floor with the spicy salt containers and the popcorn maker in my arms, and going to the side exit.
It’s like a maze trying to get through the carnival with the running teenagers and people dressed in spooky costumes trying to scare everyone, but I make do, reaching the parking lot and stuffing everything on the back row of Mamá’s Buick.
When I’m back at the stand, coming through the side door, I hear Mama talking to a customer. “You should be so happy! This is my very last bag! People have been gobbling it up because it’s so delicious!” It’s just like her to brag about her own product. My mother has no shame when it comes to her food.
“Thank you so much. I’m so excited! My friend had a bag and we all couldn’t stop eating it. It’s perfectly spicy. Not too hot.”
That voice.
I turn to the sound of it, spotting Amber standing on the other side of the stand with a wide grin and a bag of the popcorn in her hands. She notices me as I turn, and her smile immediately evaporates.
“Coach Torres?” she calls, narrowing her amber eyes at me. She forces a smile. “What are you doing back there?”
I take a step forward as Mamá turns to look at me. “Helping my mom out with the stand.”
“This is your mom? Well, now I see where your good looks come from! You’re so beautiful, Mrs. Torres!”
Mamá relishes in the comment, clasping her hands together and blushing. “You are too kind! And let me guess, you are one of Joaquin’s runners?”
“I am, yes.” Amber beams proudly.
Mamá gasps. “Wait—you’re the girl who got tripped, aren’t you?”
I want to cup a hand around my mother’s mouth. This is not the time or the place to talk about that. Amber looks from her to me, her smile uneasy. “Torres told you about that?”
“He did and for the record, I don’t think what happened was fair. If I were you, I would have ripped that sneaky bitch a new one.” Mamá winks and grins at her.
Amber laughs and I notice her shoulders relax.
“Who are you here with, Lakes?” I ask, steering the subject.
“Oh—I came with Kendall and Janine.” She looks around. “They just got in line for some ride that makes you dizzy, but the line is way too long, and I got hungry so…here I am.” She shrugs. “Getting dizzy isn’t my thing anyway.”
I nod. “Cool.”
“Well, it’s so nice to meet you,” Mamá says to Amber. “And don’t take shit from anybody!”
Amber giggles. “I won’t, Mrs. Torres. Thank you for the popcorn.”
“Of course. Joaquin, is that everything?” Mamá asks, looking around the stand and then at me. She didn’t bring much. Only thing she has to grab is her purse and she can go. The cooler we’ll keep in here until tomorrow.
“That’s it, Mamá. Go on home. I’ll lock it up.”
“Gracias, hijo.” She leans on her toes to kiss me on the cheek. I take off the key for the stand from her keychain, hand her keys to her, and when she’s out the door, I turn to look at Amber, who is now munching on the popcorn.
“Do you guys have drinks to sell too?” Amber asks.
“We had water and orange Fanta’s in the cooler, but they got sold out pretty quickly. Some people couldn’t handle the spice.”
“Oh. Well, I definitely need to find something to drink with this. This popcorn really has a kick too it.” Amber smiles, revealing straight white teeth. “I’ll catch you later, Coach.”
She spins around, looking for her next concession stand. I almost start to call her name, tell her to stop and wait up—that I’ll buy her drink for her—but I don’t. What would it look like for me to buy her a drink? It would be highly inappropriate. Not to mention there are other track students out here tonight and the last thing I need is rumors spreading about me with a student.
I sigh, closing the gate on the stand and locking it. I head through the door and go around the tent. My car is parked on the other side of the lot. Unfortunately, I have to pass by the Ferris Wheel—one of the main attractions—just to get there.
Hungry as hell, I stop for a hot dog at one of the stands nearby, and as I wait for my order, I hear a girl giggling.
My eyes swing over to one of the game stands, and low and behold, that quarterback Amber likes so much is standing right there with some girl.
This girl is a brunette with skin that is way too tanned. She looks like the sorority type. I narrow my eyes as the quarterback picks up one of the baseballs and says, “I’m going to win that ugly fucking bear f
or you. Watch.”
The girl giggles again and watches as the quarterback reels his arm back before throwing the ball at one of the empty glass bottles. He misses and curses beneath his breath. For a quarterback, he sure is shitty at throwing tonight. Maybe he’s drunk.
When my hot dog is ready, I pick it up, and as I put mustard and ketchup on it, I catch someone walk by me, hair billowing, a bag of popcorn in her hand. She stops only mere steps away, and I freeze a moment, watching her as she watches the quarterback trying to win a prize for another girl.
Amber. It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s upset. I can’t even count on my hands how many times I’ve seen her hand-in-hand with him, kissing him. Flirting with him. It worked me up to see it. In fact, I couldn’t stand it. It almost felt like a slap in the face, which is ridiculous because we don’t share any kind of relationship other than coach and student. And now she’s feeling what I felt when I saw her with him, along with what I can only assume is betrayal.
Her eyes are narrowed with confusion, her grip tight on the bag of popcorn. Her bottom lip begins to tremble, but to spare herself the tears, she turns away. But when she turns away, her eyes catch mine, and fuck…her hurt is clear.
“Amber,” I call softly. What the hell do I even say?
Our eyes connect. She doesn’t pull away for what feels like forever, but when she finally does, she turns and runs the opposite direction of me and that shit-head quarterback.
TWENTY-ONE
I’m a fucking idiot!
This is exactly what I get for not listening to my friends. I said I wouldn’t take Stephen too seriously—that it was all just for fun—but seeing him with that girl as he tried to knock down glass bottles and win prizes for her stings.
Perhaps it wouldn’t sting so bad if he hadn’t lied about going to a party. He flat out told me he promised his teammate and roommate, Carl, that he’d go to a party with him and probably wouldn’t make it to the carnival. He’s a fucking liar.
He was never going to a party. He’d made plans to hang out with another girl.
I find a bench close to the lake behind the carnival and sit. It’s far enough away from the carnival that I can distance myself from the noises. I draw in a few deep breaths, placing the popcorn down and clutching the edge of the wooden bench.
As badly as I want to cry because I’m so pissed, I don’t. I hold back my tears, pick my head up, and inhale before exhaling. I am not crying over a boy.
Kendall and Janine were right, and I didn’t listen. But hey, at least now I know the truth. At least I’ve figured out firsthand that some rumors aren’t always rumors. That’s what I get for thinking that, just for a moment, Stephen and I could eventually become a real thing. I thought he’d take me seriously and ignore all the other girls. He always told me I was different, fun, cute, and had adorable quirks.
I huff a laugh at the sheer stupidity of the reminder. I bet he tells every girl that. I’m such an idiot.
Footsteps crunch on the rocky trail to my left and I look up, spotting Coach Torres walking away from the carnival and in my direction. He has a hot dog in his hands, eyes laser-focused on mine. He’s wearing gray sweatpants, which honestly aren’t doing a thing to hide his junk right now. I have to snatch my eyes away when I catch the imprint of it. Torres is definitely packing.
“Lakes…you good?” he asks, taking another step closer.
“What do you care, Torres?” I pull my gaze away, staring out at the lake.
He’s quiet for a moment. I glance to the side and he starts eating his hot dog as if he has no worries. I roll my eyes. It’s just like him to be careless right now. He saw what happened with Stephen. He saw my face. He knows I’m not good.
“Didn’t you say you were hungry?” he asks.
I ignore him.
He sits on the opposite end of the bench and breaks off the end of his hot dog. It’s one of those foot-long hot dogs. “You like ketchup and mustard?”
I side-eye the hot dog. Not going to lie, my mouth waters at the smell of it. I’m not a big hot dog person, but I am really hungry. I’m supposed to catch a late dinner with the girls, but three or four bites of hot dog shouldn’t ruin my appetite too much.
I accept the offered half of his hot dog. “Thank you,” I murmur.
He shrugs it off.
We eat in silence, staring out at the lake, listening to the distant whimsical sounds from the carnival games and rides.
“I told you you could do better,” Torres finally says, and I don’t have to look at him to know he finds this humorous. I can hear it in his voice.
“Yeah, well, I guess I just wanted to give him a chance and the benefit of the doubt.”
“Why?” He turns his head to look at me.
“I don’t know. I figured maybe what people were saying about him were mostly rumors. The same way Melanie has spread rumors about me, it could have easily been done to him.”
“Valid point.”
I sigh. “I just—I don’t get it. What’s the point of chasing so many girls? Does he really think all of them will stick around for that if they see him with so many others? Were you like that at his age?”
Torres’ brows shoot up in surprise and he breaks out in a sudden laugh, nearly choking on his food. “Trust me, I was much, much worse.”
“Really?”
“I was definitely out there. Every girl was fair game—well, except my friend’s ex-girlfriends and current girlfriends. Bro code and all. But I wasn’t as easy to be with like Stephen.” He pauses. “When I look at that kid—the Stephen guy—that’s all I see. He’s a kid, just like I was. He won’t settle down anytime soon. He has the looks, the position, and he knows how to use that to swindle the girls.”
“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole, so I guess that makes you one too.” I take my last bite of hot dog as he chuckles.
“You want to know what it is with guys like Stephen Hunt?”
I shift my body toward him. “Oh, please enlighten me.”
“Guys like Stephen are insecure. They know they’ll never amount to much after college, probably won’t get drafted to the NFL—because let’s face it, no one at BU has been drafted for almost a decade—and they major in something simple like communications or something, so they use their stardom while they have it and they shove it in everyone’s faces while they can. Right now, Stephen is the big man on campus. All the girls want him. The girls go crazy over that messy brown hair and whatever color his eyes are. But when he graduates…who is going to care? I mean, really. Think about it. He’ll most likely be stuck with a girl who graduated from BU too, who pushed through all of his flirting and bullshit with other girls and stuck around for him. He’ll be working a nine-to-five desk job he hates, he’ll grow a beer belly, and he and whoever his wife is will both be miserable. Sad, but true.”
“Wow. You say this like you’ve gone through it yourself.”
“Not me, but several friends I went to college with have. Fortunately for me, I focused more on school the last two years I was there. During freshman and sophomore year, the girls were up for grabs though.”
I laugh. “What college did you go to?”
“UNC. Not too far from here.”
“Ahh. So, you’ve been in the Carolinas for a long time?”
He nods. “Pretty much. I was born and raised in Charlotte. Moved to Fayetteville with my mom for this job a few years back.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
Torres is quiet again. “Seriously though, don’t waste your time stressing over guys like him. You’re worth more than that.”
I avoid his eyes.
Torres grunts as he stands, and I look up as he points a thumb at the carnival. “What do you say we get something to drink? Wash the hot dogs down?”
I smile and pick up my popcorn, my heart beating faster. “Sure.”
TWENTY-TWO
I wash down the hot dog with a grape slushy and Torres washes his down with an Orangeade. He paid f
or both. I suppose this is his way of not showing me pity.
One of the games next to the drinks stand clears up and it’s for water guns. Shoot the water from the guns at the target and whoever gets to the top of the color wheel first wins a prize.
I hear laughter and look to my left, noticing Stephen with the same girl. They’re now at the line of the Ferris Wheel, a good distance away where he can’t see me. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, the same way he’d wrap his around mine when walking me to my apartment, or walking with me after practice. I snatch my gaze away.
“I dare you to play this game with me,” Torres says, stepping forward. I look up at him and there’s a faint smile on his lips. He’s trying to distract me.
“You dare me?” I ask, fighting a smile.
“Yup.” He walks past me to the game booth to pay the game operator. As he sits on one of the stools and grips the handle of the water gun, he says, “Bring your ass on, Lakes. Let’s see if you’re fast enough to beat me in a water gun race.”
I break out in a laugh, give a what-the-hell shrug, and sit in the seat next to him, gripping the gun. The bell goes off and I squeeze my trigger first. Torres squeezes his too and the water squirts at the target, a strong stream that trickles down to a silver tray at the end of it.
“Go! Go!” I’m so close to the top and Torres is right on my ass. The bell goes off, and I jump off the stool as cheerful bells sound from the speakers. “Yes!”
“You got lucky!” Torres laughs, pushing off his stool.
“No, that wasn’t luck,” I respond with a smug smile. “I beat you fair and square.” I tell the game operator I’d like the orange dragon, and he hands it to me. I study the yellow spots on the fluffy dragon’s back before peering up at Torres. “So, since we’re doing dares, I dare you to go on the haunted boat ride with me.”
“Oh, hell no. That kind of ride is NOT for me.” He waves his hands and steps back.
“What, are you scared?” I challenge, then smirk.
Coach Me Page 10
