Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me.
I remembered when those same eyes had looked at me with happiness and laughter, with intrigue and a touch of desire. Now they were looking at me with contempt and loathing.
"So things went well with you two tonight?" she reiterated.
Slowly I answered, "Yes," not sure what she wanted me to say or where she was going with this.
"So you had a great night together, maybe even thebestnight," she continued, her voice getting hard and louder. "And you know the likelihood of you having a night like that again isimpossible?"
Ah, that's where she's going. My mouth twitched as I tried not to smile. Now all her questions were making sense. She remembered that night at the bonfire just as much as I did. She didn't want to talk to me about football, she wanted to talk about what had happened between us that night, and I was more than happy to do that with her. The only reason she had been giving me the cold shoulder was because that kiss had meant something to her too. And if I'd had any doubts about that before, her questioning me right now was all the proof I needed.
I leaned forward, licking my lips before speaking right into the microphone. "It's good to know that you think it was thebest," I said, pausing for effect, "but I wouldn't say it'simpossibleto repeat it. If I want to have another great night, I can." I held her gaze, and the spark that was always under the surface with her lit up like a fire in her eyes.
If she wanted to play this game with me, then I'd play it with her. Heck, I was just happy to be talking to her. It didn’t matter that we were practically arguing.
She crossed her arms under her chest, a hint of cleavage now visible, and my eyes dropped. I hurried to lift my gaze, making a conscious effort to keep my eyes focused on her face. She wasn't playing fair, and from the look she gave me, she knew it.
She cocked her head to the side. "Not even you are that good. Games like this only come once in a lifetime."
I gave her a cocky side grin, feigning more confidence than I felt. "Then I guess we'll have to wait and see how this all plays out."
We continued to stare at one another, neither one of us willing to back down first.
A throat clearing broke through the silent tension. "Miss Davis," Coach Matthews said, getting her attention. "Are there any other questions you would like to ask me or the other players up here?"
"Uh, yes," she said, obviously flustered as she looked down at her phone, where I assumed she had typed her questions. "I have a question for Wilder."
I mentally slapped myself for being such an idiot. Why had I acted like a total prick? I knew she wouldn't give me a second chance, and I also knew I didn't really deserve one. And why had I decided to be a cocky footballer in front of a room of people who were listening to my every word? Having a large audience for our heated interaction hadn't been the smartest move. Then to top off those bad decisions, I'd decided to have this awkward double-meaning conversation with her in front of her stepdad—my coach.
I rubbed a hand down my face wondering how much Coach had gleaned from my not-so-friendly communication with Scarlet.
Slate leaned slightly over to me and in a voice low enough that only I could hear said, "Subtle. Real subtle."
"Shut up."
No one paid attention to us as they listened to Wilder's answer to whatever Scarlet's question had been. My mind was so rattled I didn't even know what they were talking about.
After she sat down, I tried to catch Scarlet's eye again, but she refused to look at me. It was probably better that way. I didn't need Coach having any more evidence of the possibility that something had happened between his stepdaughter and me.
Coach Matthews wrapped up the last few questions and we were finally able to head back to the locker room. I was about to head toward the showers when I heard my name called behind me.
"Monroe," Coach Matthews said, his voice coming out stern. I cringed at his tone. This wasn't going to be good.
I turned around to face him, hoping I looked relaxed and guilt free. "Yes, sir?"
"In my office. Now."
My shoulders slumped as I followed behind him like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Once inside his office, I shut the door and remained standing, waiting for him to start.
He stood behind his desk, his hands spread out as he leaned against it, his face hard. "Do I need to remind you of the first rule of being on this football team?"
At the beginning of each season, Coach Matthews had the entire football team meet to go over his rules and expectations, complete with a projector screen to go through a slide presentation. His first slide announced his first rule with a picture of Scarlet, and he would proceed to tell us all that she was off-limits, no excuses, no exceptions. And if we broke this rule, we could kiss our football careers goodbye.
I still remember the first time I saw her picture. I'm not saying it was love at first sight, but something stirred inside me when I saw her. The way her smile lit up her face, her green eyes almost sparkling through the photo, her curly hair framing a delicate face. She'd been the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. And then when I saw her in real life, the picture hadn't even come close. Yes, there were a lot of beautiful girls in the world, especially at Waterford it seemed, but there was something different about Scarlet.
I'd been trying ever since to keep my distance from her, to not give in to the pull that I felt toward her.
