“Sure, baby.” She doesn’t push on it any more than that. Instead, she moves past me to grab and pick up the first container she sees. I pick one up too and we carry my things down to her car.
When we’re done, I check my room for anything I may have forgotten, and I notice the dragon on the windowsill. My heart sinks just looking at it. I walk in to pick it up, stroking the orange fur and running my fingers over the orange spots. Its teeth are round and silly-looking, and its wings are silver, short, and stubby.
“Amby? You ready?” Mama calls from a distance.
I sigh, and as badly as I want to leave the dragon and all it’s memories here, I don’t. I tuck it under my arm and leave the room.
I lock up the apartment, turn my keys into the apartment manager and when I’m seated on the leather seat of the car with the dragon on my lap, Mama drives right away.
She and I have an open line of communication. She knows that I will tell her whatever is on my mind, I just need time.
She won’t like what I have to confess, but I trust my mother more than anyone else on this earth and she’s great at giving advice on certain situations.
I just hope when it comes to this situation, she’ll be able to understand it.
FIFTY-ONE
I have to say, I thought Mama would react much, much worse to my confession. After all, telling your mother that you were fooling around with your coach isn’t an easy pill for any parent to swallow, but considering all my mother has been through, I know this is a truth she can handle.
At first, she didn’t even know what to say. She had to take a moment to leave my room and let it digest. She doesn’t come back to check on me until six, and that was to tell me dinner is ready.
The dinner she makes is my favorite. Grilled tilapia, steamed broccoli with extra butter, and a sweet potato with cinnamon, butter, and brown sugar.
We eat in silence for the first few minutes, forks scraping across porcelain, the clock on the wall ticking away. I sip my sweet tea as Mama sighs and places her fork down.
“Look, I can’t say I’m pleased about what I know, Amber,” she finally says, and it’s a relief to hear her finally say something.
“I know.” I keep my eyes down.
I feel her studying me. “But I can tell that you are seriously heartbroken by what happened, which makes me think that you really care about him.”
“I do, Mama. A lot.” I pick my gaze up to look at her.
“And now he isn’t speaking to you?”
I sigh and shrug. “I think he’s become overwhelmed with the realization that he’s out of a job now, because of what we did.”
“Well, he wasn’t fired, so he still has a shot out there, right? And you should be very grateful to Coach Hamilton. She could have carried things out a lot worse if she didn’t have a soft spot for you and him.”
I stare down at my half-eaten fish. Mama stretches an arm across the table and reaches for my hand. She picks it up and squeezes it and I look up into her bright brown eyes that are very similar to mine.
“Maybe this is what’s best, Amber. And maybe he knows it’s better this way—to let what you have come to an end. If he really cares about you, he will reach out again just to make sure you’re okay. I don’t know him all that well, but maybe he just needs time to think things through, get his life back in order.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“Try not to worry too much, Amber. Men are—well, they can do crazy things. Sometimes they overreact. Sometimes the realization slaps them right in the face when they least expect it.” She pulls her hand away and takes a bite of fish. “I can’t even tell you how many times your father has done silly things that made me question our marriage, but eventually he rolled around and realized what was right. Sometimes it takes men a little longer to deal with things—to mature.”
I smile, digging back into my food too. After I finish a piece of broccoli, I say, “Thank you for not getting mad at me, Mama.”
“Oh, I’m mad,” she counters, quirking a brow. “I don’t like the idea of a man of authority messing with my daughter, but from the way you explained it, who am I to hold what you feel against you? You were open and honest with me, and you’re a smart girl. I know you wouldn’t have done anything if it wasn’t worth being with him, and you wouldn’t have told me a thing about him if he didn’t mean a lot to you so…” She shrugs and puts on a gentle smile. “I’m upset about it, but I trust you, baby girl.” She then points her fork at me. “But you better have been protecting yourself.”
I bust out laughing. “I was, Mama. Trust me. I was and I still am.”
I spend two weeks of summer practicing at the track in my neighborhood park, and working out in my backyard. I want to come back stronger next season and I want to prove to Hamilton that what happened with Torres and me won’t stop me from being the best I can be. She took me in, despite criticism, and I owe her that much.
When I run, though, I can only think about Torres and his whistle. How he’d blow it and tell me to run it again. I know when I mess up with my starts and finishes and I can picture him blowing on that damn whistle, shaking his head, and telling me to get back to the starting line.
Most times, when he’s crowding my headspace, I have to stop. I go back home, shower, curl up in bed, and watch Netflix or Hulu.
I don’t think I can take much more of this. I need closure from him. Okay, so he wants to end what we had. Fine. But at least say it to my face. Don’t let me wallow about it.
I pick up my phone and open the text app. I send him a quick text before I give myself time to think about how stupid this is. If he didn’t respond before, he won’t now, I’m sure.
Only, I’m wrong this time.
I see the bubbles bounce on the screen right away, telling me that he’s about to respond, and my heart beats to life. I sit up on the bed, staring at the screen of my phone, eyes wide, throat thick with emotion. Is this really happening?
His message comes in.
Torres: Was just about to call you. I’m coming to Raleigh tonight. Pack a bag for the weekend and meet me at the same hotel from winter break around 8. Don’t be angry with me please. I’d love to apologize in person, but I’ll understand if you don’t show.
“Holy shit.” I scramble off the bed. It’s three in the afternoon. Five hours and he’ll be here and I can be with him. I’ve never felt so desperate to go anywhere, but I don’t waste time pulling out a duffle bag and then sifting through my drawers for clothes.
But I stop when I remember the tears. My pain. I texted him today hoping for a response or an update about how he is, but I wasn’t expecting to see him.
Why should I drop everything to run to him when he wouldn’t even answer me? He broke my damn heart.
I sit on the edge of the bed with a yellow dress in my hands. Perhaps Mama was right about what she said. Maybe it’s better if we both move on. He wants to see me, and I can appreciate that, but I know it’ll take us back to where we started. And if it’s back to where we started, who is to say it won’t end the same way?
In heartbreak.
Now I’m not so sure I should go.
FIFTY-TWO
This is my third whiskey on the rocks.
I’m seated at the bar, facing rows and rows of liquor bottles. There’s a man in a tuxedo playing the piano, singing songs by Elton John, Justin Timberlake, and John Legend, and he’s not doing a damn thing to heal my broken mood.
I check the time on my phone. 8:40 p.m.
It’s well past 8:00. I take it Amber isn’t going to show and you know what? I don’t blame her. After all those times she texted and called me and I didn’t answer, hell, this is what I deserve.
I know it’s fucking stupid, but I thought it would be best if I just cut things off cold turkey, give her time to think about what was right and what was wrong. Give her time to realize that there is more to her life than being with me.
But with each week, it became painful to be wi
thout her. I stayed with my mother, hoping the distance from my apartment would help. I couldn’t stay in that place—not when I knew every part of it was filled with memories of me with her.
Memories of us on the sofa.
On my bed.
On the kitchen counter.
In the shower.
I sigh, taking a sip of my drink. Maybe she has thought things through. She isn’t coming. So why did she text me to check in?
I’d be a big fucking hypocrite if I said she was throwing mixed signals.
I flag the bartender down for another drink, deciding that if she doesn’t show after this one, I’ll go to my room and accept the consequence of not seeing her.
He tops off my glass, but it’s as I take that fresh sip of whiskey that I hear someone clear their throat behind me.
I turn to look over my shoulder, and there she is.
I can’t believe it. She’s even more stunning now than I’ve ever seen her.
Her hair is pulled halfway up in a ponytail, the rest hanging down past her shoulders. She’s wearing a yellow dress that really brings out the warmth of her skin. Her lips are glossy, her eyelashes long and thick from what I can only assume is mascara.
I expect a smile or a sweet hello—hell, I even start to smile myself—but instead she shakes her head at me, her eyes misty, and storms away.
“Amber! Shit!” I place my drink down and scramble off the stool, chasing after her. She rushes through the lobby, her hair bouncing with every step she takes, until she’s at the revolving doors.
“No, no, no.” I can’t let her get away. I pick up my pace, moving past several people to get to the exit. The doors spit me out on the sidewalk and I look left, then right. She’s walking down the sidewalk, toward the club next door.
“Amber!” I call again as I chase after her.
But she doesn’t stop. I run faster until I’m able to rush around her and physically stop her myself, a hand to her shoulder. “Amber, what are you doing? Where are you going?” I ask, breathless.
“Back home!” she shouts, pushing my hand away and trying to get past me. I move in front of her again.
“Why? You’re already here. Why leave?” I ask, pleading. There’s no way in hell I’m letting her leave, not when she’s already here.
“Just move, Torres. It was a mistake for me to come here. I’m going back home.”
“So why show up then?” I demand. “If it’s such a mistake, why are you here? Clearly some part of you doesn’t think this is a mistake.”
“I don’t know!” she snaps. “I guess I just wanted to see that you were actually here, but then I saw you and I thought of all those unanswered calls and text messages and I just...I can’t. I can’t. I’m not putting myself through that again with you—the agony of waiting and wondering when you’ll reach out to me.”
“Amber, please just listen to me.” I place my hands on her shoulders. “I came here because I want to apologize to you. I am so damn sorry for not answering you when I should have but I...I was going through so much. I didn’t know how to let it all digest, but that’s no excuse, okay? I know that. But it also doesn’t change how I feel about you, I promise. I came here because I know I fucked up, okay? It was a mistake to not answer you—to let you go for weeks without hearing from me. I just....” I sigh, exasperated. “I just knew at the end of the day, you deserved better than me and I didn’t want to hold you back anymore.”
She shudders a breath, a stray tear running down her cheek. She looks away, swiping the tear away with the back of her hand.
“Please,” I beg. “Come back in with me. We can discuss everything. You can yell at me as much as you want to, call me an asshole, slap me—whatever you wanna do,” I murmur, and that causes a giggle to bubble out of her. “Just please don’t leave me. I need you here with me right now.”
Her amber eyes lift to mine and she draws in a deep breath before exhaling. She then looks around. The bass of the music from the club down the street is bumping and people are walking right past us, not giving a damn about our moment.
She finally looks me in the eyes and nods. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll come back in with you, but only if you really agree that I get to slap you for ignoring me.”
“Deal,” I laugh, reeling her in for a hug, my arms so tight around her, I don’t ever see myself letting go. She feels so good in my arms. I’ve missed this so damn much—her cherry scent and how she molds perfectly to my body. She’s the perfect fit for me. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking before.
We make our way back into the hotel, my arm hooked around her shoulders. She clings to my hand hanging off her shoulder, a subtle smile on her lips. She’s still bothered by something, and I can understand that.
I’ve hurt her, betrayed her trust, but I’m here to fix it. She means so much to me. I have to make things right again.
As we ride up to floor six, to the same room I’d booked last time, I can’t help feeling like all my worries and all my troubles are gone.
There is no life without Amber next to me and I came to that realization a long, long time ago.
As soon as I open the door to my room, I turn toward her, reel her close to me, scoop her up in my arms, and kiss her like my life depends on it.
Hell, maybe my life does depend on this. I drove from Fayetteville to Raleigh to be with her. I knew she lived in Raleigh, and I’d been planning to come here for a while, but with my money becoming slim, I had to wait.
I received one last check from Bennett and I used some of that to book this hotel room.
Amber palms the back of my head and kisses me with fervor and need, our lips molding and our bodies meshing.
“I missed you,” she says through ragged breaths.
“I missed you too.”
“Don’t you ever ignore me again,” she snaps, leaning back when I try to kiss her. Her palm lightly grazes my cheek, a playful slap, and I chuckle.
“I won’t. Not ever.”
“Why did you anyway?” she breathes.
I feel an ache in my chest that’s raw, and it cuts me deep. I hate seeing the pain in her eyes. She holds so much innocence that she won’t understand my motives. She will never be able to accept how fucked up life is sometimes and how tough choices have to be made.
I place her on her feet and grab her hand, leading her to the bed. She sits, and I take the spot beside her, but just as I’m about to speak, she says, “Never mind. Just tell me later,” and then she’s on top of me, my face clasped in her hands, and her warm lips on mine.
I don’t stop her. Right now, I need this more than anything. To feel her heart beating and her body glued to mine. I reach for the hem of her dress and pull it over her head. It comes off with ease, and part of me wants to laugh because I know she wore this on purpose. She wanted this to happen.
She’s left in nothing but her blue panties and black bra, and my eyes roam her body in wonderment, taking in her full breasts.
I lean back to take my shirt off and then flip her onto her back on the bed. “You sure you don’t want to talk first?” I ask as I unbuckle my jeans. I lower them, along with my boxers, and stand from the bed to take them off.
I’m perched between her legs in seconds, fully naked, my cock hard and anxious.
“No. I need you now,” she croons, and I don’t waste any more time. I roll her panties down to her ankles and she kicks them off. She leans up to kiss me and when our lips meet, I unhook her bra.
We’re both completely naked and she’s so damn beautiful to look at. I don’t think she realizes just how much her body turns me on—how much the sight of her tits and that warm spot between her legs makes me hard as hell.
She reaches up to stroke my cock with one hand, still looking into my eyes. Her touch…fuck, it is everything. I tense and release a shaky breath.
I close my eyes as she continues, gradually stroking my cock. She leans up to kiss the tip of my cock and I groan, my eyes fluttering open to look at
her.
I can’t take any more of this teasing. “I need to be inside you.” I lower my chest to hers, fisting my cock. I run the head of it through the already wet slit of her pussy, up and down. “Fuck, Amber.” I push into her and her pussy swallows me slowly. She unleashes a moan and a groan rattles in the base of my throat.
Fuck, she feels so good. I’ve missed this. Her wet pussy wrapped around my cock, the way she moans and clings to me, her fingernails digging into my skin.
I’ve been drinking too much, and it’s been way too long. I pull back and thrust into her again, and then lean up to grip her waist. I angle her hips, my cock stroking in and out of her pussy. Deep and shallow. Deep and shallow. And then I’m in deep, and she gasps.
I don’t stop, no matter how loud her moans get or how feral my grunts are. I stare into her eyes, holding her gaze as I bring a thumb down on her clit to rub it. Her whole body shakes with undeniable pleasure.
“Come for me, preciosa,” I rasp. “I want to feel you come all over me.”
“Oh, fuck,” she sighs, throwing her head to the side. I don’t stop stroking—don’t stop working my thumb on her clit. I feel her getting tighter. Wetter. And then she looks up at me again, and she cries out my name.
“Joaquin!” she cries again, and I feel her pussy clenching the hell out of my dick.
“Shit, babe.” Her hips fall slowly to the bed and I go down with her. I devour her lips, thrusting my way inside her a few more times before a deep groan rips out of me and into the bend of her neck.
She holds onto me tight as I come, and I swear it feels so damn good to empty myself inside her. I know it’s reckless—dangerous—but it’s a damn good thing she’s protected because I don’t think I can pull out even if my life depends on it.
We both breathe through the moment. I’m on top of her, but I don’t apply all my weight to her. I kiss the crook of her neck, then lean up on my elbow to look down at her.
“Am I forgiven?” I ask.
Coach Me Page 22
