“Trevino, can I talk to you in my office?” Fuck. What does Paxton want? I’m praying he didn’t catch me staring at Bri. I don’t want to have to explain myself.
After the girls leave, I meet Paxton in his office in the field house. Walking down the concrete hall to the tiny room feels like a death walk. I tap my knuckles on the door once out of courtesy before Coach waves me in. I take a seat across from him on the opposite side of his desk and wait for him to start talking.
“Is there something you need to tell me?” I swear my heartbeat doubles in tempo and I hope my face doesn’t give me away as I try to play it cool.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I’m not one to pay attention to rumors, but when you came here, you told me you were injured as the reason you’re not with the Elite right now. I bought it in the beginning, but I see how you’ve been running and training. If you had a hip flexor injury, you wouldn’t be able to run the way you do or even walk. We both know it. I’ve heard a lot of damning things and I don’t want to believe them, but I am allowing you to be around my girls. Right now, I need you to be straight with me.”
On the plus side, he’s not questioning me about Bria. Well, not directly anyway, but in a sense, that’s exactly what he’s asking me about. Even if doesn’t know it.
I don’t know what to tell him. I’m caught completely off guard. I got cocky and naïve, assuming I wouldn’t get caught and the lies wouldn’t catch up to me. Fucking Mitch opening his big mouth to the reporter. Who knows what’s out there now. Since I haven’t gotten a call from Murray, it couldn’t be too bad, right?
As I see it, I only have two options here. One, I can tell him the truth and deal with the consequences. The other option is to come up with another lie and pray the truth never comes out.
With a sigh, I run a hand through my hair. Paxton is a good man. I hope he still thinks I’m one as well once I tell him the truth.
Chapter Seventeen
Bria
I lace up my sneakers and jog in place, warming my muscles before the grueling torment they’re about to undergo. It’s ten after five and Tatum is loosening his back muscles and glancing between his watch and the parking lot.
“No one else is coming. Let’s get started.” Yesterday at practice, he invited the rest of the team to join us for training. Apparently, none of my teammates are jealous of his special attention anymore.
“What’s the plan, Coach?” He smirks every time I call him that.
“I already told you the plan. We’re running the cross-country track, doing drills, then suicides.” I groan.
“I didn’t think you were serious.”
“Do you think I talk just to hear the sound of my voice?” He deadpans.
“Sometimes, yes.” That, at least, elicits a smile.
“Let’s go, Campbell. Try to beat me.”
We run together, though he starts to pull ahead. I dig my heels in, pushing myself harder than ever before. On the plus side, being slightly behind allows me to ogle Tatum’s ass. The view alone is my motivation to not win.
I pump my arms until they hurt and catch up to the man who owns the fine ass I was staring at.
“Tired yet, Bri?”
“You wish.” The corner of his mouth tugs up and I almost trip because I’m too busy staring at his handsome profile.
“Staring at me won’t help you win.” My cheeks heat and I focus on the trail in front of me.
We cross the finish line and I walk to where I left my bag, digging through it only to realize I forgot my water bottle.
“Shit,” I murmur.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I forgot my water. I’m gonna run to my car. I have to have a spare bottle in there.”
“Have some of mine.” He holds out his Gatorade and I shake my head.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll be right back.”
“Bria, take the damn drink.” I comply and thank him, taking a long swig of the sweet beverage.
When I set the bottle down, he picks it back up and takes a drink. There’s something about knowing his mouth is wrapped around the same bottle mine just was.
“You looked good back there,” he tells me, effectively snapping me out of my daydream about his mouth and mine.
“You looked pretty damn good yourself.” I speak without thinking and my jaw drops at my boldness. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“What did you mean?” He looks at me, his chestnut eyes staring into my soul. He raises one eyebrow, a cocky, confident look that could eviscerate even the sturdiest of panties.
I flick my ponytail over my shoulder and hold my head high. “I wouldn’t want to be inappropriate or make any more mistakes.”
He grits his teeth. “What I said to you the other day was the mistake.”
I inhale on a silent gasp.
We’re caught in a standoff. Our eyes are locked and saying all the things we can’t. Right now, I want to storm over to him, to bunch his shirt in my hands and lift onto my toes, plastering my mouth to his.
But I can’t. Because he’s my coach and despite what he’s saying to me now, his previous words still ring loud in my head. He thought I was a mistake once and I never want to feel as low and pathetic again as I did that day.
“We should, um, keep going. What’s next?”
For the rest of the morning, we focus on foot drills and we end with a few laps around the track. He doesn’t make me run suicides after all.
“Good work today,” he tells me as we pack up.
“Why did you say it?”
“Because you did a good job today?” The sentence comes out like a question and I shake my head.
“Not that. The uh…when you said what happened was a mistake. You obviously meant it if you said it.”
“You caught me at a bad time and I was lashing out. I didn’t mean it.” His tone tells me he’s sorry. Every word is laced with regret and his voice is apologetic. I want to believe him, but why should I? It was one kiss. One kiss does not a relationship make.
“Prove it,” I dare him. Actions speak louder than words and if he can manage to prove to he didn’t mean what he said, then I’ll trust him. Until then, I’m keeping my distance.
“What do you want me to do, Bria? Do you want me to kiss you again? Because I think you do, but you don’t want to admit it. I think you feel this thing between us as much as I do. I think I hurt you and now you’re afraid to want me. The thing is I can’t prove it to you unless I kiss you again. Once I do, it’s a waiting game to see if I lash out again. And Bria, when I kiss you again, I’m not going to be able to stop.”
Every word he’s said has brought him closer to me. He’s taken slow, measured steps until he stops right in front of me. I lift my chin to look into his eyes and see all of my emotions mirrored back at me.
“You’re still my coach. This still can’t happen.” The logical part of my brain speaks up and I want to strangle her. I don’t know why I’m fighting this, but the fear of getting hurt is somehow managing to outweigh my desire for him.
“So, we don’t tell anyone.”