Serving Tegan (Sexy As Sin)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Roman

I'm packing my bag when there's a knock at the door.It's not like I'm surprised. I was waiting for it. Maybe even dragging my feet so that I wouldn't have to have the conversation over the phone.

I open the door, find Alexandria.“Hey, Coach,” she says, her voice downtrodden, her head bowed.

I’ve never seen her humbled like this before, but I can only imagine the things her father said to herwhen he found out she faked an injury so she wouldn't have to face her biggest competition.

“Alexandria,” I say, stepping back to let her in.I wait for her father to follow, but he doesn't. I step out into the hall, look both ways. It's empty.

“Where's your father?” I ask.

She shrugs, her head still bowed.“He said that I had to do this on my own.”

“Do what? Fire me?” I say, letting the door slam closed.

“He's not firing you,” she says.

I've already got my duffel bag in my hand.The room has been cleaned, but I glance over at the bed, looking away quick when memories of Tegan pop into my head. I'll never forget the smell of her.

“You lost the tournament. The stipulations seemed pretty clear to me.You lose, I'm fired. You lost.”

“Only technically,” she says.She's very closely examining her shoelaces, the ones that are attached to the shoes on her very not-injured feet. “It's not your fault I didn't win, so Daddy said you can keep teaching me.”

We stand there for a long time.I wait for her to look up. I will not say this to the top of her head.

When she finally raises her eyes to mine, I say,“Alexandria, I don't want to be your coach anymore.And you don't want to play tennis anymore. So what do we say, we both just tell your dad to go fuck himself?”

Her brow furrows.“I have to do what he says.”

“No, you don’t,” I say, hoisting my duffel bag up over my shoulder, the strap bisecting my torso.“No, you don't.You’re an adult, and you don't have to do what anybody tells you to. And I'm an adult, too, and I don't have to let your father manipulate me just so that I can pay my rent.All right?”

“You think he's manipulating you ?What do you think he's doing to me?”

I have never, in the several years that I've been working with Alexandria, had a lick of sympathy for her. Yes, her father is terrible, but she's always taken that terror and turned around and paid it forward to everyone she knew.How can I feel bad for someone like that?I feel bad for her now. Because her father is terrible, and he’s holding things over her head, and nobody deserves that.Even if they are kind of awful.

“Alexandria,” I say, stepping forward and placing a hand on her shoulder.“I’m really sorry. Truly.”

She looks up at me with those ocean blue eyes of hers, pleading.

“I’m not going to let your dad push me around anymore.And I suggest that you do the same. But at the end of the day, I have no control over you.Only you can help yourself out of this situation.Tell your dad I quit. Tell him I refuse to work with somebody who would throw a tournament because they were scared.”

Her chin wobbles at this.I sort of feel bad, but I don't really. I mean it.I’m not going to work with someone who doesn't want it, someone who would do what Alexandria did today.

“I guess, thank you for everything that you've done for me,” she says.“I appreciate it.I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.”

I pat her on the shoulder.“Just fucking quit, Alexandria.There are more important things in life than tennis.”

And with that, I leave.