Chapter 8
Connor
Well…fuck.
Not just any fuck, but fuuuuuuuuck.
How did I not know Vox was bisexual? How has that not made any of the coverage of his interviews? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad the media’s focus is on his boarding skills since that’s where it should be, but how the fuck has he managed to keep that juicy morsel on the DL?
This isn’t good.
I’m in the hallway sporting an ‘I’m spiraling’ boner for my athlete, who was already infuriatingly hard to resist, and now this?
When Vox went off on Renner, I thought he was defending me. That’s why I asked how long he’d known. Unlike him, I worked my ass off to keep that shit under wraps.
Once I was out of the limelight, no one really cared, and I’m not closeted per se, but I’m not standing in the front yard waving a pride flag, either. Especially here.
I scrub one hand down my face and use my other to adjust myself in my jeans because I will absolutely walk off the side of this mountain if Vox catches on to the fact that I’m hard for him.
Two minutes later, the man responsible for my predicament sticks his head into the hallway.
“Uh, Coach, you good? Renner’s all set. We’re just waiting on you.”
My already aching balls tingle when he calls me Coach. It’s rare. It also feels like a sign of respect, which has been in short supply from Vox since the start.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” I give Vox a tight smile before ducking into the bathroom, strangling the base of my dick in an effort to deliver the message: we aren’t going there, before heading back toward the training room.
Renner’s session goes smoothly enough. He picks reasonable routes and makes the adjustments I suggest. He’s a safe rider, not a flashy one.
Vox asks Renner if he can stay and hang out to learn more about the system.
Renner, of course, says yes, and I settle in for another hour of forcing myself to concentrate on the athlete on the board.
When Renner dismounts forty minutes later, I expect him and Vox both to be ready to get the hell out of there, but Vox asks if he can ride again.
I know I should say no. Or at the very least, I should leave.
But I do neither of those things.
“Yeah, of course. I’ll never say no to extra training,” I hear myself say instead.
Vox puts his boots back on and straps into the simulator board once more. He does a couple of easy runs before he goes back to work on his progress on the Everest route.
Much to my dismay, Renner stays to watch. Knowing it’s for the best that another person is in here with us doesn’t stop my intrinsic desire for the athlete currently demanding my attention.
After thirty minutes of working his way down the mountain, he still hasn’t made any mistakes…
because he’s finally learning to control his descent.
Instead of carving a path down the mountain as fast as he can go, he’s studying his terrain, skidding to a stop to make adjustments as needed, often going around a rock face, crevasse, or avoiding a non-survivable ledge.
Renner and I watch as Vox pauses the course and pulls the headset off, needing a break. Although I have other work I need to get done, my heart sinks at the thought that my time with Vox is over for the day, and I’m scrambling for ways to stay in his presence.
Fuck, this is not good.
But Vox turns to me with a smile. “You seeing this? How’s this for descent control?
” He reminds me of a kid making sure their parent’s attention is trained entirely on them before completing a task…
except instead of jumping from the porch steps or throwing a ball, Vox is turning me the fuck on by expertly maneuvering his board along this course.
I’m totally fucked once we’re back on the mountain again.
Before I can answer, Vox whips his shirt off and tosses it at Renner.
“Put that with my bag, will you?”
Ohmyfuckinggod. This is my penance for hurting Sam, isn’t it? Suffering in silent desire over the worst possible man for me to be attracted to. Someone I have to work closely with, someone who makes my blood boil with rage and all-consuming need at the same damn time.
I made the mistake of acknowledging this desire in the steam room. If I could go back, I never would have set foot in that stupid space. Even if it didn’t totally pan out the way I was hoping, it was insane to put myself in such close proximity with him half-naked and drenched in sweat.
It’s like since finding out he’s bisexual, my brain now mistakenly thinks I have a chance with him.
And it’s not just my brain.
Despite my best efforts in the bathroom to deflate my cock, the traitor is coming to life again at the sight before me.
This time, there is no haze of steam clouding my view; he’s just…there.
Even Renner notices.
“Damn, Vox. How the hell do you look like that? I’ve seen your diet, man. There’s no way you should be that shredded.”
Vox laughs as he flexes.
“You’ve seen my diet, but you haven’t seen my extracurricular activities.” Fuck my life. Is he talking about sex again? I swear to God, I’m not going to survive him. “I burn more calories before eight a.m. than you do all day.”
“Well, fuck,” Renner says, looking at me while pointing to Vox. “Get me on that training plan.”
My brain isn’t online. I hear his words, but I don’t know how to answer because I have nothing to do with Vox’s morning routine…whatever it may be.
Vox laughs again.
“It’s not a prescribed workout, but if you want to join me for tomorrow’s six a.m. mountain run and ab crusher, you’re welcome to.”
“Six? In the morning? Nah, man. It’s like eight degrees out then. Abs aren’t worth it,” Renner says, waving Vox off.
And that’s why you’ll never be number one, I think to myself before remembering Renner doesn’t want to be number one. A fact that is hard for me to comprehend.
I’m still staring at the planes of Vox’s stomach when he calls my name.
“Connor!”
Shit. “What?” I snap.
He gives me a devious smile. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” I’m about to tell him to fuck off and get back to work when his face lights up. “Oh! That’s actually a great idea! Grab my phone and open the camera. The media team will eat this up! Bet I can get five thousand likes before dinner.”
Renner chimes in and says something about Angel, but then his face falls. “Though I hear she’s seeing that lacrosse player from Idaho.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Vox replies, returning his attention to his headset, restarting his descent. He’s on a wide patch of mountain at the moment, the most technically challenging part already completed.
“Don’t you ever Google people?” Renner asks his teammate incredulously.
Vox’s body stiffens for a fraction of a second before an obstacle appears in his headset and he carves to avoid it.
“Not my teammates,” he answers, and I immediately know he’s insinuating that he’s Googled me.
Renner laughs and says, “Mmhmm, sure.” Then, he rips his own T-shirt over his head and tosses it onto the chair.
“Okay, Golden Boy, time to let me have a turn again. We’ll both post the shirtless pics and see who has more likes by dinner.
Loser buys the other’s beer. I’m going to prove you don’t have to have a six-pack to get laid. ”
Steering off course and using the controls to end his run as rivulets of sweat run down his back, Vox grins. He loves competition in any form. “You’re on.” Then he looks more closely at his teammate. “Ren, what the fuck are you talking about? I can see your abs from here, dickwad.”
Renner grins. “Too late, you already agreed to the bet.”
“Sneaky-ass fucker,” Vox fires back.
I watch the exchange like a fly on the wall. I should be happy that Vox seems to be coming out of his teams-suck mentality and appears to be enjoying his time with Renner.
So why is something ugly unfurling low in my gut?
Just the possessiveness of a coach for his athlete, I tell myself. It has to be that because it’s way too fucking early in this season for it to be anything else…not that it can be anything else.
“Connor, grab some pictures, will you?” Vox asks, back to using my first name.
“This is a training session, not a photoshoot,” I reply sternly.
Vox’s mouth quirks up in a grin as he shoots me a wink. “Why can’t it be both?”
Opening the camera on Vox’s unlocked phone, I take the requested pictures and then, before I can overthink it, I type my name in the search bar to pull up Vox and I’s text stream and send two of the images to myself before deleting the evidence.