Glad he forced me to come downstairs.
“I have actually. I’m listening to one song each day. Hope you don’t mind if I keep the CD player a little longer?”
“You can keep it as long as you want.” He looks genuinely happy, his entire mood more vibrant, livelier. “Are you liking what you’ve listened to so far?”
“Yeah, ‘Wobble’ is a…masterpiece. It’s just what I needed. Really made my day.” It’s a bit sarcastic, but I mean it.
I was caught off guard when it started playing through the tiny earbuds today. I had expected something soft, maybe even inspirational, but not V.I.C.
“Yeah?” His lips flatten in a line as if were trying to stop himself from smiling or laughing. “I can’t wait for you to listen to the rest.”
I’m not sure what to expect, but I’m really excited now. It’s kind of hard to believe that a few months ago I didn’t look forward to anything, and now I look forward to moments with Daniel.
It’s really silly though considering he’ll be gone in a few months. The thought settles splinters in my stomach.
My chest feels heavy when I breathe in, but I play off the ache when he turns, holding two plates in his hands.
“Bon appétit, mademoiselle.”He hands me the plate, smiling from ear to ear.
We talk—well, he mainly does—and listen to music as we eat. I’m partially listening, stuck between reveling in this moment and hating myself for falling for him.
43
DANIEL
When Coach saidhe wanted to meet with me first thing in the morning, I didn’t expect Bryson to join us.
I know he didn’t expect it either. He looks deceptively calm, but I don’t miss the slight pinch between his brows when he spots me sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Coach’s desk.
The left side of his face looks fucked. It’s swollen and bruised, and while his eye isn’t shut, it’s smaller than the other. There’s also a small cut on his nose and a gash on his lip.
I wish I could say I feel bad, but I don’t. I briskly drop my gaze to my knuckles, flexing my hand. My knuckles aren’t as red as yesterday, but they’re a little sore. I welcome the pain and only regret I didn’t get another punch in.
“Come in.” He quickly waves his hand inward.
He swiftly does and takes the chair next to me, knowing right now isn’t the time to push Coach’s buttons. Not that it ever is, but his expression is grim. Piercing blue eyes sharpen and his mouth sets in a straight line.
“Coach—”
He lifts a hand, cutting Bryson off.
“You don’t speak. You listen.” He sits up straight, his body visibly rolling with anger. I’m sure like me, Bryson is scared asshit because Coach is a terrifying man. “I’m disgusted with both of your behaviors. So fucking disgusted, I was almost tempted to suspend you?—”
“Coach—”
He slams a palm hard on his wooden desk, cutting Bryson off again. “You have lost the privilege to speak! You shut up and listen.”
Bryson nods at the fury in his voice and sinks in his chair.
Coach crosses his arms against his chest, veins popping on his face and neck. “I was tempted to suspend you both. Never in the ten years that I’ve been coaching have I had to deal with this middle school bullshit, but I can guarantee you that it’ll never happen again.”
My heart races, palms sweat, and I spiral with thoughts of what that could mean.
“As of today, you two will be each other’s catching partners, sharing hotel rooms, and sitting on the bus and plane together. Really anything that involves two people. You will learn to get along and treat each other with respect.”
Fuck, this is worse than any other punishment. I’d rather be suspended, and I’m sure Bryson feels the same way.
He breathes out a frustrated sigh, every muscle on his face twitching as if he’s holding back from going off. “You better be glad you caught me on a good day and that we’re on a winning streak. Now get out of here and go get ready. Daniel, stay back for a moment.”
