Chapter Twenty-Five Alex
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ALEX
“You think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” Coach snaps, slapping a thick manila folder down on his desk. Pages scatter from the folder, and I catch a glimpse of my file… grades, warning slips, and whatever else fits inside.
“I’ve never cared to measure the temp of my shit, but yeah, let’s say it’s hot.”
I can see the moment he goes from mad to livid. It shouldn’t be funny but watching his anger literally load is definitely comical, his ivory-colored flesh slowly turning red from the neck up.
“Does this look like a fucking joke to you?” he barks.
I don’t respond, only sit here, jaw clenched so tight it aches.
“Huh? You’re Mr. Fucking Untouchable, right? I have very few rules, Williamsburg.”
Lies. His rules, they run longer than the Nile.
“And you’ve managed to break every one of them. But do you want to explain this?” He opens the folder and pushes the report of my grades in front of me. “Fucking failing, Alex. Seriously?”
I open my mouth to speak but he continues before I can get out a word.
“We’re heading to nationals, and you’re risking everything. All we’ve worked for. Kincaid is out because of your party and instead of leading by example, you constantly fuck up.”
I flinch at that.
“I’m this close to benching you for the conference.” He holds up two fingers, barely pinching them together.
My vision tunnels, and a tightness forms in my chest. “You can’t do that.”
He tilts his head back, thrown off by my response. “Hell if I can’t. You know the rules. Maintain a C average to stay on the ice. You’re barely scraping together a D. And your fight on the ice just made the decision a lot easier.”
I get it. I screwed up, lost my cool when everything was riding on that game. And if it weren’t for Kane coming in with the save at the very end, we’d be fucked. But Walton tested me.
“You don’t understand. Walton—”
“I don’t care,” he snaps. “I told you to keep your head in the game but like always, you do what you want. You want to throw away your shot? Fine. But you won’t mess it up for the rest of the team.”
“Coach—” I breathe.
“You’re dismissed,” he says coolly.
“What about the game?” I force out the words, my throat burning, my voice singed as if I swallowed a gallon of acid. “Are you benching me?”
Silence stretches between us, and it feels as if suddenly all the oxygen in the room has evaporated. Coach doesn’t glance away; he doesn’t even blink. He just stares at me with steady disappointment. And somehow that cuts more than if he had just continued yelling at me.
“I earned my spot on that ice,” I whisper more to myself than him. “You know that.”
“You should have thought about that before you turned the rink into a UFC match. You can go. I’ll let you know what I decide.”
I stand up too fast, the weight of his words weighing down on me.
Storming out without another word, I slam the door shut behind me hard enough to make the office window rattle.
My pulse jackhammers in my chest, a blind rage burning deep as I head straight for the locker room.
I shove through the double doors. Practice is over and everyone has left for the night.
“Shit,” I grunt out, knocking over the nearest laundry bin. It clatters to the floor with a thud as the items inside spill across the floor.
When I finally let my gaze settle, I realize Sam is still here—in the threshold of the utility closet.
It’s the very place where she came on my hand.
My chest tightens at the memory, my eyes roaming over her from head to toe.
Sam cocks a brow and awkwardly rolls her shoulders.
Her eyes lock on mine and I notice a slight change in her breath as her hand lifts to the reddish hickey on her neck.
My cock twitches at the sight of it, knowing my mark is on her and the team is none the wiser.
I remember the way she melted into me even though every fiber of her being wanted to push me away.
Remember the warm vanilla that seemed to be soaked into her flesh.
It carries, even in the distance. I don’t have to see her in a room to know she’s present; I smell her.
And it pisses me off. If she were any other girl, I would have moved on by now, but instead, she’s deep in my head.
Bullying her started off as just a way to make her pay. For what exactly? I’m not sure. I told myself it’s because she benched Kincaid.
Truth is, I do it because she’s always seen through the facade.
Saw me at my lowest and, wildly enough, never judged me for it.
Can’t say I’m used to that, or people knowing things that they don’t rub in your face later.
She offered to help, albeit for a favor, but she doesn’t hold it over my head.
So now, with each passing day, I want less and less to have anything to do with making her suffer.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she taunts, that wicked smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.
God, she’s infuriating. And fuck if she isn’t sexy as hell when she’s being a menace. And then she’s bending ever so slightly to pick up the laundry I knocked over.
“You’re going to help or keep staring like a weirdo?” She sets the bin upright and frustratingly tosses a garment inside.
Stepping closer, I continue watching as Sam yanks up a handful of sweaters and stuffs them in the bin along with the rest. Then she’s on the move, dragging the heavy gray container behind her. I glance around once more before following her into the laundry room.
Sam grunts as she flings the basket in front of the washing machines. She doesn’t notice I’m behind her, so I stand there for a moment, just watching her.
“You finally want to tell me what you were looking for in the admin office?”
Sam startles, spinning to face me, but the moment her eyes settle on mine she relaxes some. I don’t know if I should be pissed or flattered that my presence no longer rattles her. The latter would mean this dynamic between us has definitely shifted.
It’s not all in my head. She came to me when she needed help, let me touch her even though she claims to be disgusted by me. It means that kiss interrupted her spirit just as much as it did mine.
“Excuse me.” She frowns and returns to stuffing uniforms into the machines.
“The other night. What were you looking for?”
She peers back at me, a crease forming above her brows. The hesitation is evident, and I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She sucks in a breath, fidgeting from one foot to the other.
Looking her over again, I step closer. “I committed a crime for you. Risked expulsion. The least you can do is tell me what you were looking for.”
She snaps her head to me, lips pressed tight as if something I said was crazy.
“You and I both know you weren’t getting expelled. And the crime was your idea.”
“Doesn’t erase the fact that I did it for you.”
“It’s an even exchange. You helped me and I tutor you.” She continues working.
I’m close now, barely half a foot between us now.
She feels me there, I can tell from the way her shoulders tense and her spine straightens.
Just like the night in the utility closet the moment she felt me near.
She can tell herself she doesn’t like me all she wants, but her body definitely has a mind of its own.
“I’d hardly call breaking and entering even with a couple of study sessions. What were you looking for?”
Sam faces me, searching my face, but doesn’t answer me.
“So, you just used me?” I tip my head. “Cool.”
“I wasn’t trying to use you.” Her eyes soften.
“Then tell me.”
Sam sucks in a breath, staring at me a minute longer. “I told you I had questions about my scholarship.”
I stare at her collarbone and bring my thumb up to stroke the place where I left my mark.
“And you thought my father might have something to do with it.”
A shiver runs through her at my touch, and my cock jumps knowing I affect her. Still touching her soft flesh, I meet her eyes again.
Why is she so fucking tempting?
“Well? What did you find out?”
She swallows. “There never was a scholarship. Someone paid for me to be here.”
I freeze but never break contact. “Who?”
“I don’t know. But your father might. His name was on the acceptance letter and the financial statement.”
I frown. “Why?”
She shrugs. “That’s what I have to figure out. But I wasn’t just using you.”
I stare at her for a beat, watching her chest rise and fall. Her breathing is steady, but her shoulders have tensed again.
“What if I wanted you to?” The words are out before I realize what I’m saying.
“What?”
“We’ll have multiple study sessions.” I pause, waiting for her to interject but she never does. I inch dangerously close now, her signature scent filling my lungs. “I’ll keep helping you.”
She peers up at me with a hitch in her breath. “Though you felt like I was using you?”
I shrug and slowly bring my lips closer to her ear.
“We can use each other,” I whisper. “Let me touch you again. Let me make you come.”
A moan escapes me. I expect her to push me away, tell me to go to hell, but she never does. Instead, she stares at me, mouth agape, eyes searching mine for seriousness.
“Just let me taste you.” It comes out desperate now, my voice raw and guttural like I’ve been starving and she’s the only one who can feed me.
It’s the truth. I haven’t so much as looked at another girl since touching her.
Her lips part, but no words come out. She just breathes one shaky, shallow breath after the other. Her pupils dilate, her eyes flicking from my eyes to my mouth and back up again.
I bring my mouth closer to hers, all while continuing to stare into her eyes. If the way she presses into me is any indication, she wants this just as much as I do. My eyes fall to her neck and I nuzzle my nose against that hickey, my cock already straining against my pants.
“Alex,” she mutters against my ear.