I don’t really want to walk up there and cause a scene, nor do I need any more rumors being spread about me, but it seems I have no choice. I pull my hat down as far as it will go and walk up to the door.
I’m used to the VIP treatment at most bars, and particularly in LA. While I don’t want to draw attention to myself, I also need to get inside quick and back out even faster.
I flash my ID to the bouncer who agrees to stay quiet as he lets me in. I walk upstairs and find Bria right away, hanging on the arm of some model-wannabe type with a creepy grin plastered on his face.
I storm right up to them and yank her out of his arm. “Yo, man, are you like her boyfriend are somethin’?”
I ignore them and the brat starts swatting at me and screaming.
I lift my hat an inch and glare into her eyes. “You’re going home. Text your friends that you’re leaving and instruct them to do the same. Now.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“Get it through your thick, soggy skull. This year, I am the boss of you, whether you like it or not. The harder you fight, the more I’ll push back. Accept it, and your life will be so much easier. Christ, Bria, I’m trying to help you.”
She all but falls down the stairs; her feet are as useless as a newborn’s.
“Yeah, my dad used to say the same thing.” The words she spits at me are bitter, and I pause at her tone but shake the thought away before continuing to drag her to the car.
I push her in the back seat before climbing in the front. It takes her a minute to take in her surroundings.
“What the hell? Why is there a goat back here?”
Chapter Six
Bria
“Bria, wake up.” I groan and burrow under the covers to force away the bad person trying to wake me up. “I swear to God, Bri, if you do not get out of this bed right now I will throw all of your underwear on the lawn.”
“What is your problem?” I hiss under the blankets. My brain is catching up and I know it’s my roommate tugging on my sheets in an attempt to stir me. I move the covers just enough to peer out of them, giving her my best death glare.
“Our coach has called me six times trying to reach you and now he’s waiting outside to take you to practice. Get your ass down there.” She rips the blankets the rest of the way off of me and stomps back to her warm bed. So unfair.
“Paxton called you? Shit.”
“No. Tatum. He said your phone was turned off and if you didn’t get down there in two minutes he was coming up. So go. I don’t need him storming up here and seeing Mr. Cuddles.” As if her childhood stuffed teddy bear is the most embarrassing part of our room and not the bras and underwear strewn about.
“If you turned your phone off we wouldn’t be dealing with him today.” More like I wouldn’t be dealing with him.
“Who turns their phone off? And why do you smell like a farm animal?” Oh my God. It’s like I blacked out the part of the night where Tatum brought me home. And I’m pretty sure I met Chance Bateman last night. I don’t even want to remember what else I said or did last night.
I throw my hair into a messy bun and grab a banana on my way out the door. All in all, I don’t feel as terrible as I thought I would. Just to spite my drill sergeant, I plaster on my best fake smile and hop down the steps to greet him. My head protests slightly, but it’s nothing a couple Advil can’t fix.
“Morning, Coach.” I hop into the passenger seat and buckle my seatbelt. He climbs into the car, an angry grimace on his face.
“You don’t have anything else to say for yourself?”
“You sound like my dad.”
“Good, because you’re acting like a child.” I roll my eyes and angle my body to face out the window. He drives to the field and hops out of his car the minute he puts it in park.
I get out and slam my door, waiting for his instruction.
“Let me guess. I’m heading to the track again today? More conditioning? More punishment?” I fold my arms over my chest as he pulls the cones from his trunk. He slams the trunk closed and turns to glare at me.
“Tell me one thing and I’ll go easy on you today.”
“Doubt it, but okay.” His jaw clenches at my retort.
“Why must you challenge me on everything? You talk back, you’re insubordinate.” He keeps rambling, ticking my indiscretions off on each long finger. “God, if you keep acting like this, I won’t be able to train you anymore. I’m trying to help you but, Christ, you’re untrainable.”
His words, along with the harshness in which he said them, got my attention. The thought of him quitting because of me left a sour taste in my mouth. My stomach drops and I realize in an instant that I like training with him. Not the pure torture he puts me through, but our banter. Picking fights with him is fun and I guess part of me thought he felt the same. It’s clear now—he doesn’t see it as fun. He really does hate me.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble and his eyebrows shoot to his hairline.
“What was that?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?” I don’t know what it is, but he gets under my skin. “I know you’re trying to help me, but, if we’re being frank here, sometimes you can be a bit of a dick and it rubs me the wrong way. I’m not going to let you belittle and intimidate me just because you’re a man.” It’s taken a lot for me to get to this point, to not be afraid to stand up for myself and I won’t let Tatum revert me to the scared, broken girl I used to be.
“I appreciate your honesty, but—”
My heart drops. His tone gives away what he’s going to say next. “I’ll do better, well, I’ll try. Give me another chance.” Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine begging him for anything, yet here we are.
“Bria, this is the first time you even admitted you wanted this.” He’s right. I’ve rebelled against him at every turn. “If you’re willing to work and learn, then I’m not going anywhere. I’ll try to be less of a dick if you keep your attitude in check.” I smile. “Oh, and I was serious about the dry season. Drinking leads to nothing but trouble, trust me.” His caramel eyes implore mine, silently begging me to trust him.
I give him a curt nod and offer my hand. “You got yourself a deal, Coach.”
On Monday afternoon, the team heads to practice. Paxton reminded us he’s on vacation this week, but he’s not giving us any time off. Instead, we’re left with Tatum and all the girls are happy about it. But not me. I’m preparing for whatever torment he’s going to throw our way.
Walking onto the field, I see another man standing beside him. I vaguely recognize him.
“Who’s with him?”
“Is he cute?”
“Is it another coach?”
The girls continue to whisper to one another about the new guy and I can’t help but roll my eyes. My teammates are a bunch of horny bitches who can’t keep it in their pants. I love them, but damn. We’re here for soccer, not an orgy.
“Oh my GOD!” Lindsay shrieks from my right, all but blowing out my eardrum. “Guys, that’s Chance Bateman.” Squeals ensue and my mouth drops.