“Fuck buddy then.” I deliberately use the crassest phrase I can think of as I take the toothbrush from him.
“Do not have one of those either.”
“I saw the photos,” I remind him.
“Of mefuckingher?”
I flinch before sticking the toothbrush in my mouth and walking into the bathroom.
He follows, leaning a shoulder against the doorway again. Still shirtless. Still staring at me.
I brush, spit, and turn on the tap. “This is unprofessional, Coach Berger.”
“So was showing up at my door, Caldwell.”
“I’m a hypocrite. Is that what you want to hear?”
“I want to know why you care about Juliette.”
It stings, hearing him say her name. Salt in a wound that’s staying stubbornly open.
I glance at the scars on his right shoulder. They’re small. Neat. Healed. Proof he’ll be gone soon.
“I don’t care,” I say, heading back into the room and over to my suitcase. I dig through it, looking for a shirt to wear to bed.
Behind me, I hear a sigh. “I have never lied to you, Claire. But I have never been able to tell when—if—you are lying to me. If you meant it when you told me to not come to that game or to?—”
“You should go.” I spin to face him, panic spreading through me at the mention of Paris. “Please go.”
His eyes drop from my face, to the fabric I’m holding. I watch the emotions play across his face—surprise, realization, resignation. “Well, you lied about something.”
Otto heads for the door, leaving me holding the blackDeutschlandshirt.
26
OTTO
PARIS
Six Years Earlier
“No.” I reach for Claire, pulling her back onto my chest. “Not yet.”
“We have a team meeting,” she tells me. “I have to shower.”
But she doesn’t move. She tilts her head, pressing a kiss against my jaw.
My hold on her tightens. It’s fucking uncomfortable, lying on the floor amid the mess that’s her room. But there wasn’t enough room for her to sit on my face on her tiny bed, and that’s one of my favorite ways to watch Claire flip from quiet and serious to loud and needy. And I was too impatient to suggest moving after she came, so we had sex between one of her cleats and the pile of laundry she pushed to one side.
“I should shower too,” I say suggestively.
She laughs, fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest. “You won’t fit.”
“That is what you said before. And yet…”
My hand moves between her thighs.
“Otto.”
