blair
I’msprawledonthecouch in nothing but gray sweatpants, phone wedged between my ear and shoulder, when Camila’s voice cuts through the speaker like she’s already three steps ahead of me.
“—and Dad says the waiver packet is ‘priority,’ whatever the fuck that means coming from him. He couldn’t even bother to text you himself. Again.”
I snort, dragging a hand through my damp hair. Practice ran long, my muscles still ache in that good, bruised way, andthe apartment smells like the Thai takeout I barely touched. “Shocking. The man remembers how to wire money but forgets how to dial my number. Classic Reyes senior.”
Camila chuckles. She’s the only one who gets it. The only one who has to run interference between me and the old man’s endless stream of passive-aggressive demands. “I’m literally his secretary at this point. He’s got me forwarding enrollment shit like I don’t have my own finals to worry about. You sign those late-enrollment waivers yet, or are you still ‘forgetting’ them in your gym bag?”
“Still forgetting,” I say, grinning even though she can’t see it. “I’ll get to it. Eventually.”
“You’re such a little shit, Blair. I swear—”
A sharp knock at the door cuts her off mid-sentence. Two firm raps, no hesitation. My stomach flips before my brain even catches up. That scent slips under the door and hits me square in the chest. Slick gathers between my thighs, a traitorous little pulse that makes me shift on the couch.
“Cam, I gotta go,” I mutter, already pushing to my feet. “Someone’s at the door.”
“Better not be another puck bunny trying to climb you like a goalpost. I swear if I have to hear about another one—”
“It’s not.”
“Oh, it’s that coach lady!”
Fuck.I tell my sister way too much shit. “Talk later.” I hang up before she can grill me further and toss the phone onto the coffee table. My cock is already half-hard under the thin sweatpants, traitor that it is. I adjust myself quickly, trying to play it cool, and pad barefoot to the door.
I open it to find Coach Sol there, red hair pulled into a messy knot, her Knotlocke Athletics hoodie zipped halfway down like she couldn’t be bothered to finish the job. She’s holding a manilafolder thick with papers in one hand, and the smirk on her face says she already knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“Reyes,” she says, voice smooth as ice. “You gonna let me in or make me stand out here while you pretend you don’t know why I’m here?”
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying to look unaffected even as my pulse kicks up. “Coach. To what do I owe the pleasure? Come to tuck me in?”
Her smirk deepens, one eyebrow lifting. She steps inside without waiting for an actual invitation, brushing past me close enough that her scent floods my lungs.
“Late-enrollment waivers,” she says, holding up the folder. “The ones you ‘lost’ twice already. Figured I’d deliver them in person before you magically misplace them a third time.”
I trail after her into the kitchen like a dumbass, watching the way her hips move under those black athletic pants. “I didn’t lose them. They’re… somewhere. Probably.”
“Somewhere.” She sets the folder on the granite counter with a soft slap, then turns to face me, arms braced on either side of the island. “You’re a terrible liar, Blair. Always have been.”
I flash her my best shit-eating grin, the one that usually gets me out of drills or extra suicides. “Maybe I just like making you chase me down, Coach. Builds character.”
She laughs once, the sound going straight to my dick. I’m fully hard now, no hiding it under these sweatpants. I shift my weight, trying to play it off, but her eyes flick down for half a second, before a knowing smirk spreads across her lips.
“You’re playing stupid tonight,” she says, stepping around the counter toward me. “Cute.”
I back up on instinct, but the kitchen isn’t that big. My ass hits the edge of the counter, and I stop, my heart hammering in my chest. She keeps coming until she’s right there, close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off her, but not quite touching. Bothhands plant on the granite on either side of my hips, caging me in, her scent wrapping around me, making more slick leak out of me in a slow, embarrassing rush.
“You think you’re funny, Reyes?” she murmurs, mouth an inch from my ear. Her breath ghosts over my skin, and I shiver so hard my shoulders twitch.
“Always,” I manage, voice rougher than I want it to be.
She stays there for a long beat, letting me feel every inch of the space between us. My cock strains against the front of my sweats, aching as slick soaks the seat of my pants now. I’m trembling by the time she finally steps back and picks up her bag from the counter.
“Sign the damn waivers, Blair.Tonight.” She turns toward the door like she’s actually leaving.
My brain short-circuits and the next words tumble out before I can stop them. “You’re not even gonna eat me first?”Fuck. Stupid Blair. Shit.
She pauses at the threshold, back still to me. Then she turns slowly, that smirk back with a little bit more darkness. “Only good boys get their asses ate, Reyes.”
