Chapter Nineteen Sam
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SAM
As soon as I step foot inside the café, it’s overwhelming. People are everywhere. In line waiting to order. Over near the napkin stations. There’s even a small line starting to form outside the ladies’ room.
Meeting off campus was supposed to be imperative for Alex. I can hear him now, his voice low and demanding.
Tell anyone you’re tutoring me and there’ll be consequences.
Fine by me, buddy. I don’t exactly want anyone seeing me with him either. He’s definitely no walk in the park himself, and after last night, I’m starting to second-guess this whole thing.
Offering to help was the first mistake; showing up might just be the second. I scan the room in search of him, craning to see around people, and with each passing second my nerves start to fray.
Not because I’m afraid of him. I’m not. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
It’s everything else that gets to me. The tension that is so clearly thickening between us, the heat still lingering beneath my skin, the ghost of his touch.
And now I’m supposed to sit in front of him for the next hour and tutor him?
I can barely stand him as it is, but now that he’s had his fingers inside me, every part of me feels…
compromised. No one warns you that the worst part about being touched like that, despite how good said touching makes you feel, is the after.
It’s the act of trying to pretend everything is normal.
Like you aren’t hyperaware of your own body in the places where their touch still lingers.
Like you don’t feel it every time you shift in your seat or cross your legs or breathe too deep.
Sweat slicks my palm, and suddenly there’s no air left in this place.
This is Alex Williamsburg, for Christ’s sake. There is absolutely no way we’ll be able to just get on like nothing happened. Like I didn’t fall apart in his hands, as if he didn’t watch me come undone. No. Not Alex. He’ll wear it like a victory and will surely find joy in rubbing my nose in it.
He had me. Not truly but close enough.
“I can’t do this,” I mutter, turning on my heel to head for the door.
But then reasoning starts and I stop in my tracks, hand on the knob, heart thudding as if it’s arguing both sides.
Run. That would certainly be the easiest option. Only it won’t solve my problem.
Remember why you’re here. To make it stop—the bullying, the taunting. I just want to get through the rest of this season in one piece. Then I can put this all behind me.
With a shake of my shoulders, I pull them back and lift my chin. I’m not here because I want to be near him, but because I don’t have a choice. It’s a business transaction.
Pulling out my phone, I step off to the side of the café entrance, away from the swirl of latte orders and clinking mugs. My thumb hovers over our text thread, jaw clenching as I force myself to type.
Sam: I’m here. Where are you?
I hit send and stare at the screen—hoping that maybe he changed his mind. If I’m lucky, he won’t show up and I won’t have to see his stupid face. The message delivers, but there’s no dots, or read receipts. I glance up, eyes sweeping around the crowded restaurant in search of a place to sit.
I freeze, my grip tightening around the phone.
There he is. Slouched lazily in the corner booth like the seat was carved for his body. Legs spread wide, fitted cap pulled low. He’s staring at his phone, that familiar smirk tugging at his mouth. Curiosity hits, causing a million thoughts to go racing.
Which girl is he talking to now?
Did he meet her after he finished with me in the locker room?
I hate that I care, that I notice.
I move toward him, my heart in my throat, but I keep moving. One foot after the other until I’m only feet away. My phone pings and I glance at it quickly.
Asshole #1: In the back.
He looks up as I approach, all smug confidence and unbothered cool, eyes dragging over me like he’s measuring the damage he caused.
Too late to run now.
Alex throws an arm over the back of the booth. “You actually showed.”
“I could walk right back out,” I snap back even though I’m already settled into the seat.
He shrugs, cocky and effortless. “You won’t.”
I suck in a breath, tuck my chin, and peer at him through my lashes. “Sure about that?”
He smiles, wetting his lips in the process. “Yeah, I am.” Alex leans forward, bringing his face as close as the table will allow. “Wanna know how I’m so sure?”
I don’t, but I ask anyway. “How?”
“Because I made you come the hardest you’ve ever come in your life.”
My stomach caves in, my breath caught mid-pulse. Before I can respond, the waitress arrives.
“Looks like your friend has arrived?” the middle-aged woman says through a smile.
“We’re far from friends,” I seethe while glaring at him.
“She’s downplaying it. She and I have been real close lately.” Still he grins, almost as if daring me to call him out in front of this woman.
“Well, that’s nice. Can I get you anything?”
I glare at him, my nostrils flared as I silently curse him. I knew this was a bad idea, the moment our eyes locked in that damn closet. I should have pushed him away—stopped him—but I didn’t, and now this jerk has something to hold over my head.
Alex finally pulls his gaze from mine and picks up the small menu. “Yeah. Let me get an espresso, triple shot.”
“All right. And you, sweetheart?” She turns to me, tapping her pen against her order book.
“Um. How about an iced latte? Caramel, please.”
“Sure thing.”
She nods and looks between us. “Would you like anything to eat?”
Alex nods in my direction. “Whatever you want. It’s on me.”
I wet my lips, taking another peek at the menu options. “Egg white and turkey sausage wrap.”
She takes the menus and walks away to get started on our order.
“Thanks,” I say, reluctant to give him any more ammunition.
I don’t need him adding a ten-dollar wrap and six-dollar coffee to the list of things he’s already holding over my head.
But all I’ve had to eat today was the few bites of the frybread Mountain shared with me.
So if I don’t eat something, I’m going to be passed out on the floor soon.
“No problem.” Alex sits up and reaches for a straw. Using his teeth, he rips the end of the wrap to remove his straw in a taunting manner. “It’s the least I can do.”
“You’re disgusting,” I bite out, picking up the glass of water on the table.
Alex laughs and it only pisses me off. He sticks the straw in the glass, balls up the paper, and tosses it on the table.
“You weren’t complaining last night.” He leans in further. “In fact, you seemed—”
My spine stiffens. I want to throw something, maybe even punch him in the face.
“Enough,” I blurt, shifting my gaze around. “Keep your voice down.”
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay. I’ll chill.”
“And just so you know. Last night will never happen again.”
I wait for one of his smart-alecky retorts, but he only smiles.
“Now, even though you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain. Let’s get started. I’d like to not waste any more of my time on you than I have to.”
“Ouch.” He flicks his wrist, feigning hurt. “And what are you talking about? I told them to back off.”
Pulling my textbook from my bag, I let it fall on the table with a soft slap. “And you were a complete asshole about it. ‘I know she’s a bitch but lay off’? You call that helping? How do you expect them to listen when you can’t stop being a dick toward me yourself?”
“Okay. Maybe the bitch line was uncalled for.” Alex holds his hands palms up with a tilt of his head. “I apologize. But, I did tell them to stop.”
“And they didn’t listen,” I quip. “I mean I came to you because you’re the captain, but if you can’t even get your team to listen to you, then this was useless.”
Alex frowns, and for a moment he seems really confused. “What do you mean?”
“While you were taking out your frustrations on the pucks, one of your guys cornered me in the locker room.”
“After I told them to back off?”
I nod, short and clipped.
Something flickers across his face. Pure anger. And something closer to… regret. He sits up straighter, dropping his phone on the tabletop. “Who? Did he hurt you?”
“Ryker. No, he just wanted to intimidate me.”
His jaw ticks. “I’ll handle it.”
For some strange reason, I believe him. I don’t know why, but I do, even though everything in me tells me not to.
“Good.” I pause, contemplating my next thought. “Because now, I want something else.”
His brow twitches, that grin forming again. “I’ll be happy to.”
“Eww. Not that, asshole. Information.”
He doesn’t blink, only leans forward, curiosity etched into his features. “You’re going to have to narrow that down.”
I take a breath, bracing myself. “I need to know why I’m here.”
He shifts. “What do you mean? You’re tutoring me.”
I shake my head. “At this school. Why I was denied a scholarship and acceptance, then suddenly handed one a year later with everything magically covered—meals, housing, tuition. Why your father swept my incident under the rug.”
Alex’s silence is louder than the café’s espresso machine.
I lean in. “I’m grateful for the scholarship, I am. But it feels like there is something more to it, and everyone I’ve asked in administration brushes it off. You don’t find that suspicious?”
His jaw works, like he’s chewing glass. “You shouldn’t question my father.”
I sit back. “Yeah, well, I shouldn’t be your guys’ personal punching bag either, but here we are.”
He shrugs again, playing with the wrapping of a straw. “I’m sure you’re just overthinking it. The school has lots of programs to help those who qualify. Just take advantage of it.”
I watch him. That answer is too polished, rehearsed.
“Right,” I murmur.
He grabs his notebook, flips it open, ready to move on. “Come on. Let’s get this over with. We’ve got pregame in two hours.”
I want to push, force him to tell me what he knows, make him promise to help.
But it’s the dreaded look at the mention of his father that makes me think twice about it.
There’s something there, something I’ve seen before.
He hates that man. I know because it’s the same reaction I’ve had myself.
So instead, I put my focus on the textbook, hesitantly accepting that I’m going to have to do this on my own.
Eventually, the hour winds down, and once we’re done, I pack up fast. The café isn’t as busy now as it was when I first arrived, so the noise has dissipated some. As I shove the rest of my things into my bag, I make eye contact with Alex.
He stands, reaching for his backpack and unzipping it. I try not to watch as he reaches inside for something.
“I’m thinking our next session should be Wednesday. I only have one class, so I’ll be pretty wide open that day.” The moment I finish that statement I regret it. I snap straight, staring at him with wide eyes.
Alex tips his head to look at me, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Shut up,” I quip before he can get a word out.
“I didn’t even say anything.” He pulls something from his bag and tosses it in my direction.
I catch it. “You were thinking it.”
“Damn, a guy can’t even have thoughts.” He smiles while licking his lips.
“About me. No.” I unfold the fabric. “What’s this?”
“Don’t worry about the ruined team shirt from last night. You have to wear a jersey anyway.” He rezips his bag then flings it over his shoulder. “And I’ll see about getting you some extra ones, so Coach won’t be on your ass.”
I stare at the jersey, confusion pulling at my features. “But does it have to be your jersey?”
He shrugs. “It’s regulation, but—” He yanks it back. “If you want to go out there in that bleached shirt, be my gu—”
“Fine.” I snatch it back.
Alex chuckles. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back to campus.”
He steps around me, deliberately brushing against me. I hesitate for a moment, not sure if I should decline or follow behind him. Quickly, I check the time. The next bus isn’t for another twenty minutes, and the ride is double that considering all the stops.
I choose the latter.
“I’m coming.”
Alex spins and walks backward, the cocky grin back on his mug. “You did last—”
“Shut up!”
He holds the door open for me and I try not to meet his eyes. God, he’s infuriating. We step out into the cool air, and I stop to take in a breath.
He walks around me and straight to the expensive car parked directly in front of the café.
“Who even drives a Porsche in college?” I let it slip without thinking.
“Someone who can afford to make people forget his grades suck.”