The next couple of weeks pass in a blur. I’m busy doing nothing but training, eating, and sleeping. My body, though exhausted, also somehow feels stronger. I’ve gained more muscle, toning them, and I’ve never felt healthier in my life.
Even things with Tatum have calmed down. I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut and he’s downgraded from a major dick to an occasional asshole. I call it a win.
“You and Coach Hottie seem to be getting pretty close,” Morgan notes before taking a bite of her salmon.
“Since when are you calling Paxton Coach Hottie?”
She rolls her eyes. “Ha ha, you’re hilarious.”
We’re sitting outside at our favorite restaurant by campus. A lot of our classmates get jobs here for extra cash, but my teammates and I never had the time with our schedule. As athletes, though, the college offers us a stipend to help cover costs since we’re unable to work.
I chew a bite of my salad while my roommate gives me imploring eyes. She’s waiting for a story, but I have nothing to tell.
“Come on, Bri, don’t play that. I’ve barely seen you this summer because you’ve been hiding away with Tatum.”
“That’s not my fault.” I sigh. “We’ve come to an agreement as of late.”
“Ooh, what kind of an agreement?” She wiggles her eyebrows and I make a face of disgust. “Oh please, don’t pretend like you don’t find him hot. You’d have to be blind not to and even then you could run your hands over his abs and just know he’s fine.”
“Ew,” I laugh. She’s right about one thing—I’m still pretending I’m not drawn to him. Like she said, I’d have to be out of my mind to not find him attractive. Plus, we’re spending so much time together, I can’t really help it. But I’d cut off my scoring foot before admitting my feelings. “It’s nothing salacious. I agreed to stop being a brat as long as he stopped being so sadistic.”
“Ugh, boring. You don’t have any gossip? No lingering touches or sneaky kisses, nothing?”
“He’s my coach, Morg. I can barely stand to be around him. Trust me, the feeling is mutual. There are no latent feelings hidden anywhere under the surface for him or me.”
“Good, then I still have a chance.” I roll my eyes, but my stomach clenches at her comment. I plaster on a fake smile but I’m saved by our waitress coming to refill our waters.
“In case you’ve somehow forgotten, he’s your coach too,” I remind her.
“Sure, but not forever, right? He’s going to go back to his team eventually. And you know his reputation with women. I’d be lucky to be a flavor of the week.”
“You deserve better than that.”
“We’re in college, Bri. College is all about being flavor of the week or month or whatever.” She pushes her plate away and sips her water.
Her words swirl in my skull, bouncing around until they stick. She’s right; he will eventually go back to the Elite and I’ll never see him again. Why does that make my heart drop?
I push away the rest of my salad, suddenly losing my appetite. The waitress brings us our checks and after we pay, we head back to Morgan’s SUV.
“We should stop by the bookstore while we’re out and pick up our books,” she says. My head is still spinning from her last comment and now I almost choke on my spit.
“Shit, you’re right. Where did the summer go?” Classes start next week and I’ve totally lost track of time.
“I already told you; you were with Coach Hottie the whole time.” I don’t dignify her with a response. “But seriously, this is our last weekend to ourselves.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Come on, Bri. We have to go all out. Everyone should be back on campus by now. We can throw a real party and invite all the guys.”
“Yeah and I’m sure a huge party means Ben will show up too.” Gag me. My ex-boyfriend is the last person I want to see. I’d rather spend all day being tortured by Tatum than see that colossal waste of time.
“We can’t. Paxton agreed to the whole dry season rule, remember? Plus, I promised Tatum I wouldn’t drink. It was one of the stipulations of our agreement.” She waves me off.
“They’re not going to find out. Well, unless you call him again.”
“I told you that in confidence. You can’t throw it back at me.”
“Too late. Come on. It’s our senior year. Next year we’ll have like, real jobs and it’ll be frowned upon to party every weekend.”
“Oh, please. Since when do you care what people think? You’ll be the boozy aunt who ruins every holiday. You’ll be like Karen from Will and Grace only less shrill.”
“She is my spirit animal, after all. So, what do you say?” I shake my head. “Come on, Bri. Just this once and I’ll never ask you to go to another party with me again.”
“That’s a lie and you know it.” She shrugs.
“True, but then you can say no. Once classes start and our games start, we’ll never have time to do anything anyway. We’re already doing two-a-days. This is our last chance.”
“You’re forgetting I also have to train every weekend.” In truth, Tatum isn’t going to be on campus this weekend. He still wants me to train by myself, which I planned to do, and if I tell my best friend any of this, she’ll talk me out of it. I promised him I’d behave and I’m highly against breaking my promises. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
“Think about it. We can have the party on Saturday. That’s three days away which gives me time to start planning and inviting people. You know everyone is going to have back to school parties which means ours will probably die down early anyway. You won’t miss your bedtime and everything will be back to normal.”
I’m contemplative as we scour the bookstore for our books. She talks my ear off the entire time about how epic this party could be and all the reasons we should throw one.
By the time we pull up to the house, my patience has worn thin and my resolve has wavered. As I hop out of her car, I close my door, but my hand lingers on the door frame for a beat as I consider what I’m about to say.
“Morgan,” she spins and I sigh, my shoulders falling, “I’m in.”
She squeals and runs up the steps.
As she throws open the front door, she yells, “Ladies, we’re throwing a party.”
Training with Tatum this morning has been rough. I feel like I’m lying to him, which, I kind of am, I guess, if you count omission as lying. Our focus has been on foot skills again today, with him on defense while I attempt to get around him to score.
I’ve improved over the last several weeks. I’ve gotten around him a few times and I can tell he’s genuinely impressed. Still, I could do better, but my head isn’t in it today.
“What’s on your mind, Bria? You’re not here today and since you’re going to have the weekend off, I need more from you.” Shit.
I sit on the grounds as I take a gulp of water. The turf is rough under my legs and I distract myself by picking at the little black pebbles dispersed between the faux grass.