Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tegan
I should definitely get up and leave.But Roman's skin is so soft and warm.
I can hear his heart beating under my ear.Steady.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“I suppose.” he says,his voice rumbling against my cheek.
“Why Alexandria?Why coach her ?”
He's quiet for a long time.I think maybe he doesn't trust me, doesn't want to talk to me.Which is perfectly fair, but something has shifted between us. I can feel it.Something fundamental.All of my attitude, my ire, it's just kind of melted away.I just want to talk to him, no more sarcasm. No more eye rolling.Just two adults.Talking.
“Her dad hired me,” he says, as if that answers the question entirely.
“That simple, huh?”I say.It's easier to have this conversation with him when he isn't looking at me.His eyes are too intense. It makes it hard to have a normal conversation.
“Yeah.That simple. No one else wanted me.”
I grimace and push up onto my elbow to look at him. “What are you talking about?Why wouldn't anyone want to hire you?You're a tennis champ.You were one of the best.”
“I was .”
“Yeah, but?—”
“A lot of people lost faith.No one wants someone that can’t be trusted, an alcoholic or a flake or a walking disaster. It is what it is.It’s like you said: When I was your age, I should have been working hard, and instead, I was partying.”
I sigh. “I didn't mean any of that.”
“Yes, you did.”He doesn't look hurt by the fact. He watches me carefully.“You don't say things that you don't mean, do you?”
“I guess not,”I say. “But I shouldn't have been so mean to you.”
He smiles at that. “I wasn’t exactly kind either. Has it occurred to you that the reason I like you so much is because you're mean to me?”
I laugh, pinch him in the side and watch him squirm.“Is that it?You into masochism?”
“No,” he says, shoving my hand away.“I just have no interest in people who pretend to be something they’re not.I have no interest in people who make themselves soft for the sake of others.”
After a moment, I settle back on his chest, cheek pressed to sternum. “If you don't want to, you don't have to work with her.”
He glances over at me, then back up at the ceiling.His fingers move absently on the skin of my shoulder. I'm not sure what's happeninghere, but it’s definitely not the very casual, quick encounter I thought it would be. Any kind of dislike I have for this man is very quickly diminishing into nothing.
“No one wants to work with me after the drama that I caused when I quit. My options are non-existent.”
Even as he says it, my fingers find the raised, pink scar on his shoulder, tuckedright beneath his rotator cuff. I was too young to be paying attention when he had his accident, but I learned about it later. It happened almost ten years ago.He was at the height of his career and then got behind the wheel drunk.From what I read, his shoulder never healed the same after his steering column almost went straight through it.
And he didn't handle it well.He sank into alcohol addiction, got arrested a few times, just generally became made of mischief.But he pulled back out of it. Look at him now.But he unfortunately has a reputation.And I guess I understand why people don't want to work with him.
But Alexandria's dad does.
“Maybe you've proven yourself,” I tell him.“You know, maybe you could move on to someone else now that you've proven that you can turn a nobody into a winner.” I clamp my mouth shut, but it's too late.I've already said it.
He raises one very blonde eyebrow at me. “A nobody, huh?”
I sigh and flop back on the mattress.“Look, I'm not trying to be petty or be a mean girl.If anything, between the two of us, that's Alexandria's job. But you know she was a talentless hack before you started working with her.”
He turns his head to look at me, still lying flat on the bed.My eyes trace the lines of him. His throat and his clavicles and his chest bone.He is truly magnificent.And it's something I noticed before this week. Everyone in tennis is aware of how hot Roman is.But there was no way in hell I thought I was going to be in this situation with him.
“How do the two of you know each other?”he asks. “She’s never spoken of you.”
Not surprising. “We went to school together.High school.She was just as awful back then as she is now. Spoiled little Daddy's girl.I actually think we could have been friends, you know?I hate to admit it, but I liked her. But she was always…” I feel like if I say this next part, it's going to sound extremely self-aggrandizing.
“Jealous?” he asks.
I sigh.“I’m not trying to sound full of myself.”
“I know,” he says, finally shifting to his side to face me, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his face before he pushes it away with his big hand. “I’ve seen the two of you.I've watched you play and I've watched her play.I know very well that she doesn't have the raw natural talent that you do.”
I roll my eyes.
“What?” he asks.
“I hate it when people say I have natural talent.”
“You do,” he says.“Some people are built for sport.They're built for competition. They're built for focus and hard work.I don't mean to say that tennis comes easily to you.”
He takes my chin in his thumb and forefinger, turns my face back toward his.
“I’m not trying to diminish the work you put in.I'm trying to say that you were born to work hard for what you want,and Alexandria wasn't.And that's why you are incredible. And she, she reaches.”
He grimaces.“She doesn't want to work hard, but I've taught her good technique.She strains. She fights.But you…”
His thumb brushes over the tip of my chin.
“Your technique is built into your body. You teach it to yourself and it becomes an extension of you.You are fluid.”
He runs his fingers down my neck, across my collarbone.
“You're like a dancer when you play.But her?It's like watching somebody struggle under too much weight.She'll never be you.”
There's a beat of silence between us.And then I lunge at him, wrapping my arms, my whole body around him, and kissing him.