She finally finds the small office she’s been using, an old storage room that was packed with old memorabilia. Coach Rice had it cleaned and made into an office for her, which she was eternally grateful for. She walks up to the door and smiles when she sees her name in a gold plaque hanging in the center of the door, and walks into the familiar room, turning on the light, closing the door behind her, and setting everything on her desk.
She startles when the door swings open again.
“Jesus, Tristan,” she hisses, a flood of goosebumps running over her arms at his large frame ducking in through the doorway. He’s dressed casually today, which she has come to know is not his usual game day attire, but it’s the version of him that always makes her swoon. She narrows her eyes at him in annoyance, because he knows that. He knows that him in a pair of sweatpants, old t-shirt, and backwards hat always made her climb him like he was a tree.
“You’re literally a bull in a china shop,” she rolls her eyes at him.
He holds an intense gaze with her, making her heart speed up, and slams the door so loudly behind him that the picture frames on the walls shake.
And then he locks the door, and she swallows past the lump in her throat.
“What are you doing?” she asks in a shaky whisper.
He doesn’t answer her, simply walks towards her like she’s his prey, and stands behind her, his front against her back. She tries to hide her heavy breathing, but it’s no use. Feeling the heat of him right up against her is making her sweat, and she knows that he can see that her hands are shaking.
“How was your date?” he asks in a low, frustrated voice, leaning down so that his lips are directly next to her ear.
“Fine,” is all she is able to say back, and she gasps when his large hands land on her ships.
“Just fine?”
“Yes.”
“Did he kiss you?”
Tessa takes a deep breath as his hands give her hips a squeeze, and she feels a familiar warmth in the depths of her core pulse to life. She tries to open her mouth to get the words out, but she can’t find her voice, so she shakes her head no instead.
“Did hetryto kiss you?”
Okay yeah, he did try. But Tessa had offered her cheek at the last second, and the look of disappointment in his eyes was almost enough to make Tessa change her mind, but she couldn’t do it because she knew it wouldn’t be real.
“Tessa,” he says sternly into her ear, his hand reaching up to brush away the blonde hair hanging over her shoulder, exposing her neck to him, and her whole body shudders as she feels his nose softly graze the skin of her neck. “Did he try to kiss you?”
A few loud voices pass by her door, abruptly bringing her back to reality, and she quickly shoves him away, moving as fast as she can to the other side of the desk.
“Literally none of that is your business,” she says, her voice shaky and hushed. She’s trying to seem confident and frustrated at his actions, but really, she’s just incredibly flustered, and he can tell.
“You can’t even look at me when you say that,” he says with a knowing smile.
“Fuck you,” she hisses back. “Please leave my office. I have a lot of things I need to get done in the next few hours.”
“I want to know if he tried to kiss you,” he says again, his tone not wavering.
“And where’s your girlfriend today, Tristan?” Tessa’s eyes suddenly pop up to his, fire and jealousy behind her usually sparkling blue eyes. “Is she here yet to watch you play? I bet she cheers you onsogood.”
He stands there glaring at her, arms crossed, stance tall.
“What? Nothing to say?” Tessa wears a sarcastic smile, not backing down from the resentful tone dripping from her voice. “It’s because you know I’m right.”
“You’re not right about shit,” he bites back. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with Kiana.”
“I know you’ve been with her for four years, and that she’s living with you.”
“She does not fucking live with me,” he says, his frustration starting to boil over. “Listen, I wish I had the time to explain everything to you, but I don’t right now. I have to get ready to play. But what I do want you to know,” he starts rounding the desk, coming over to her side, and her body freezes, preparing for him to be close again. “What I do want you to know is that when I’m suppose to be focused on her, all I can fucking think about is you. So, tell me again, how did your date go last night?”
Tessa’s heart is sputtering wildly in her chest. Can he read her mind? How could he know that her date was just ‘fine’ because she thought about him the whole time? The more likely answer is that he’s still the cocky bastard he’s always been, equal parts frustrating and charming.
“Get out,” she hisses again, and he takes a step back.
