“I don’t like this. I want us to be out in the open. You and me on a restaurant date, not Chinese takeout or pizza delivery, hiding at my house. You deserve hand holding and PDA. This is wrong.”
“Don’t,” I begged, my entire body going tense at the fear of where this was going.
“It’s wrong, and I take all the responsibility.”
I shook my head and walked around the desk, taking in his dark-washed jeans and rumpled hair. His Henley tugged and pulled around his biceps; his head hung low as he pulled on the back of his neck.
I sat in his lap and kissed his cheek. “I’m yours,” I said into his ear before biting his lobe.
Apparently, I didn’t need to say any more, because he picked me up and laid me out on his desk. Within seconds, my shoes were off, my pants on the floor, and my shirt over my head.
I whispered, “King Drew,” and he growled in return. One finger was inside me, then two, readying me, but I didn’t need it. I was always ready for him.
His mouth was on my nipple, his hand pumping into me, the light shift of the desk humming around us. I banged the back of my head on the desk as my climax hit me, and my back arched. It didn’t matter—I felt too good to care.
And then he was in me, fast and deep, his movements desperate, urgent. He was also bare, but I didn’t say anything. Drew was in some kind of state, determined to mark me and make me his. He didn’t realize he already had.
Something amazing built inside me, then exploded as he stiffened, pumping his feelings into me. We kissed, our tongues dueling, swallowing each other’s cries of ecstasy.
And then came the knock.
“Coach, it’s Stacia. Are you here?”
Jules
We got a lucky break yesterday—I’d hidden under the desk while Drew threw his clothes back on. He pretended to be leaving and cut Stacia off at the door, asking her, “What’s up?” while pulling it closed behind him.
After I heard their footsteps retreat, I came out from under the desk and slipped on my clothes. Then I snuck out, looking both ways before leaving the building.
Now as I made my way around Hafton’s campus, my bike tires crunching along the fallen leaves as I pedaled to the athletic complex, I knew we had to be more careful.
As I said good-bye to my mom that morning, I promised myself to do better, to watch my back and King’s. She was off to her job in the registrar’s office, and I was on my way to Psych. My teammates hadn’t been in class, which was why I headed to the complex as soon as class was dismissed. Something was up, and I hoped like hell it had nothing to do with me.
The heavy door banged behind me, and before I even made it twenty feet, Lulu came running up to me.
“Shit, Jules, we didn’t know how the hell to reach you. Thank God you’re here. Emergency meeting in the weight room. Now.”
She pulled me down the hall and into the bright lights of the gym. Everyone was seated on various weight benches, their legs stretched out in front of them, a mishmash of leggings and skinny jeans. I sat on an empty bench and pulled my legs under me Indian-style.
Crisscross applesauce, my old teacher used to say.
There were whispers and hushed speculation, but no one stared at me or mentioned my name. Whispered snatches ofKing, breakdown, too youngfloated around me.
“Morning, ladies.” The athletic director walked into the complex with a tall bald guy on his right. “Thank you for getting together on such short notice. As of last evening, Coach King resigned. It seems that the coaching job was too much for him at this time. We were lucky to be able to bring Coach Hall out of retirement for this season while we look for a replacement.”
A chorus ofWhat? Why? What the heck?filled the room.
“I know it’s a disappointment. You all did very well with Coach King over the last two years, and he worked hard to get the team where it is, but Hall is a longtime Hafton coach and employee, and a devoted fan. He will do right by you. And now I’ll leave him to discuss the schedule with you.”
I didn’t hear a word of what Hall said. He rambled about the season coming upon us quickly, January, mandatory practices, and optional workouts.
My head spun. King was gone.
He didn’t say good-bye. Not that he could have called my house and said to my mom, “Excuse me, Mrs. Smith, but I’ve been sleeping with your daughter and now I’m running away, so ...”
Maybe he was still at his house? If I had a phone, I could Uber there. But I didn’t.
Fucking crap, my mom and her stupid plan to erase what happened by sheltering me from any further scandals by keeping me unplugged. She would absolutely shit if she knew what happened this go-round.
