It’s not like I’m in love with the guy or anything. I barely even like him on a good day. Yet, being rejected by him was a knife to the chest and I’m flooded with embarrassment.
I refuse to turn back to him and instead walk down the hallway with a cool, unaffected sway of my hips. At the very least he should see what he’s missing.
I call Morgan as I’m on my way home, telling her to be ready so I can pick them up and head to the mall.
After driving around for thirty minutes trying to find a parking spot—damn back to school shoppers—we’re finally walking into our first store at the outlets, and it’s not one I’d ever willingly go into alone, but Morgan insisted. I don’t think this place sells enough fabric to cover a normal person’s ass, but that’s kind of my best friend’s MO.
“I’m trying this on.” Morg dashes to the back of the store to the dressing rooms. I’m a little surprised this place has fitting rooms considering how tiny the fabric is. It’s essentially lingerie.
“So, what happened with Ben?” Lindsay comes up beside me, flipping through the sales rack to my right.
“He’s a dick and I’m never going back to him again.” She looks at me like, duh, so I toss her a bone. “He got a little physical and nothing happened but he wasn’t himself last night. I don’t know who he was and I don’t plan to find out.”
“I’ll kill him.” Morgan comes back wearing her scrap of fabric and the look on her face truly is murderous.
“It’s fine, really. I think he almost felt bad about it, I don’t know. It was weird and I’m done talking about it.” I look at each of them and they nod in agreement, thank God.
We go back to browsing through the store when Lindsay squeals from across the room.
“Oh, shit, you need to try this on,” she says as she holds out a slinky silver dress.
“It would look great on you,” I tell Morgan, but she shakes her head.
“Hell, no, girl. We mean you need to try it on.” My mouth falls open and I shake my head so fast I give myself a headache.
“Absolutely not.” Their smiles are saccharine and I feel a push from behind me. Syd is literally shoving me toward the garment with a smirk.
“Just try it on. We’re not going to make you buy it,” Syd says.
“Unless you look hot,” Morgan adds.
I oblige with a groan and snatch the hanger out of Lindsay’s hand. I find the small fitting area and all but slam the little wooden door shut. I hear my three friends right outside waiting for me to try the dress on.
I pull off my jeans and tug my t-shirt over my head. You can’t wear a bra with this dress but I refuse to try it on without one.
I tug the slinky and soft fabric down my body and a quiet gasp leaves my mouth. I won’t lie—the dress hugs me in all the right places, accentuating my muscles and conforming to the few curves I have.
“Come out! We wanna see!” Morgan’s yelling seems to have brought on the attention of one of the salesladies. I hear her through the door, asking if we need any help, but Morg sends her away.
I roll my eyes and unlock the door. Stepping out, my friends all affirm what I already knew. I look damn good. Their eyes bug out of their heads and a smirk pulls at my roommate’s lips.
“You’re buying that dress,” she tells me.
I glance down at the price tag and now it’s my turn for my eyes to bulge. No freaking way.
“This thing is a hundred and ten bucks. It’s basically a napkin! I am not spending over one hundred dollars on a freaking scrap of fabric.”
I’m not made of money and I don’t have a part-time job. I can’t waste the few bucks I do have on frivolous things like pretty dresses I’ll probably never wear.
My friends start to argue with me, but I slam the dressing room door in their faces. When I come out, I hang the dress on the discard rack and step out, going back to the sales area. The dress was a little too fancy and slutty for me anyway.
Lindsay, Syd, and I wait as Morgan makes her purchase, but she comes over to us carrying two bags. She hands me one and I glance at it confused until the thought sinks in.
“Morgan, no.”
“Yes. You deserve this and it would be a crime if you left the store without it. Take it—no takesy-backsies.” I hug her and whisper a thank you into her ear.
While I have a single mom trying to support me and got into college on a full-ride soccer scholarship, Morgan is loaded and spoiled. There are many times I envy her life, but I wouldn’t trade my mom for anyone else’s either.
We shop around some more and I only leave with a new pair of soccer shorts and, of course, my new dress. My friends carry bags of their own and we toss them in my trunk before heading to grab lunch.
We stop at the restaurant by campus where we sit outside and are quick to order, each of us opting for water and a salad. I take a large bite of my spinach when Morgan’s face lights up across from me. She makes a big deal about waving to whoever it is until they come over.
“Hey, Coach.” I choke on my food when she says those words. Please, God, let it be Paxton. I glance up and discover I’m not so lucky.
“Hi, ladies.” Tatum is wearing the same tight long-sleeved shirt I saw him in earlier and now I can see the black Nike soccer shorts hugging his delectable ass.
“Are you grabbing lunch? You should join us.” I stare a hole through my best friend’s head, but she’s oblivious.
“No, no, well, yes, I am grabbing lunch, but I have a lot of work to do. I need to get back.” His eyes find mine for a split second, but I glance away.
“Then I guess we’ll see you at practice tomorrow.” He nods and backs away to the door to head inside. “Damn, he is fine.”
“Morgan, quiet, he’ll hear you,” Syd tells her on a giggle, but Morgan shrugs, not a care in the world. She wants him to hear her. I’m sure if he made out with her it wouldn’t be a mistake.
“By the way, Bri, you have spinach in your teeth.” Of fucking course I do.
Chapter Fifteen
Bria
Tatum has been avoiding me like the plague since our kiss. It’s been two weeks and we’ve had three games since, all of which we won. I had two exams, one run-in with Ben, and Sam almost broke my fucking ankle at practice, and yet, all I can think about is Tatum.
Fucking Tatum and his kissable lips and his quiet moans and unbelievable body. Bastard.
He keeps canceling our training sessions too, which is no help. Last weekend he claimed to be out of town. Naturally, I went to the field house to see if he was in his office again, but this time he wasn’t. Maybe he really was out of town, but it’s not like I can ask him about it.
He won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me. He won’t get near me or coach me anymore. It’s stressing me out and, though I hate to admit it, I miss him.
I’ve taken matters into my own hands and started conditioning on my own. I drive to the fields and run a few miles on the track, pushing myself to beat my times. It gives me a place to think but also to clear my head. It’s peaceful, running alone.
I’m finishing up mile one when headlights pull into the parking lot. Someone gets out and starts walking toward me, but it must be one of those newer cars where the headlights don’t turn off right away.