19. Cole
CHAPTER 19
COLE
I’m dripping in sweat by the time I step into the locker room after practice. Coach is drilling us hard for the upcoming season. Our first game is the beginning week of December, right after Thanksgiving break.
“Anderson!” Coach pokes his head into the locker room as I’m peeling my practice jersey off my body.
“Yeah?”
“Come see me after your shower.”
“Ooh!” Some of the guys call out like I’m in trouble. I roll my eyes at their antics and grab my towel.
After I’m clean and changed I head down the hall to Coach’s office. I knock on the door before I enter.
“Take a seat, Cole.”
I slide the chair out and sit down. It’s small for my large body but I make it work.
“What’s up, Coach?”
“I heard from Jason and he’s coming into town the week after our first home game. Are you still up for meeting with him?”
I sit forward, eyes wide. Hands on the knees of my jeans. “Absolutely.”
“Excellent,” he threads his fingers together on top of his desk, “I’ll let him know you’re still agreeable and give him your number if that’s okay?”
“Yeah, yes, of course.”
“Remember, this is just a casual lunch to get to know you. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Sitting back, I try to calm my nerves. “I know, sir.”
But neither of us can deny what a great opportunity it is, even if it leads to nothing.
“I’ll pass your information along and he’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you.” I stand, shaking his hand when he offers it to me.
His face brightens, a smile I know isn’t meant for me thrown over my shoulder to whoever has approached the door. “Zoey.”
Zoey? My blood runs cold. Surely, he doesn’t mean my Zoey. There has to be plenty of Zoeys on campus, and yet as I make a slow turn to the door I know, I just fucking know it’s going to be her.
She freezes in the doorway, her eyes darting from me to Coach.
“Hey, Dad.”
Dad? Her fucking dad?
I look over my shoulder at Coach Reynolds and back to her, horror spreading through my veins.
Zoey. Zoey Reynolds. My roommate. My friend. The girl I’m falling for.
She’s my coach’s daughter.
The world has never been so cruel to me. Am I cursed? Am I this unlucky when it comes to the girls I like? What the hell is happening?
I keep standing there, even though I should leave. Coach and I are done, there’s no reason for me to still be here, except my feet won’t move.
Zoey’s eyes don’t leave mine. It’s like her father, my coach , isn’t even in the room.
She’s known. She knows I play basketball, and she never said a word.
“We’re done here, Anderson,” Coach reminds me, trying to nudge me out of the room. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“See you then, Coach,” I manage to grind out, pushing past Zoey, careful not to touch her.
I trudge back to the now empty locker room and slam my hands against the metal. I do it again, just because, letting out a groan of frustration.
My feelings and situation with Zoey were complicated enough.
Both of us have been avoiding the feelings, fears from our pasts holding us back, but now on top of that she’s my coach’s daughter, the embodiment of forbidden fruit. I didn’t even know Coach Reynolds had a kid our age.
Collapsing on the bench, I bury my face in my hands.
I’m royally fucked.
Grabbing my bag, I sling it over my shoulder and go to leave the locker room.
I fully plan on just leaving the building, letting my anger cool down before I see her next, but when I swing the door open, she’s walking by and instinct takes over. I clasp her wrist and she lets out a tiny cry of surprise as I pull her into the locker room, pinning her against the wall.
“Cole,” she squeaks out.
“You knew,” I accuse. “You knew your dad was my coach and you didn’t say a word.” Her eyes drop to the floor. I place a gentle finger on her chin, raising her face back up, refusing to let her not face this. “Why?”
Her teeth grind. “Because we’re complicated enough, Cole. I like you. You like me. But we’re both protecting our hearts. You knowing about my dad … that only gives you more arsenal to stay away from me.”
“As if you’re not carrying enough of your own,” I bite back.
She wets her lips. “Things are difficult with my dad. Everything I’ve told you is true. And a part of me was protecting you from that. He’s been your coach all these years. I’m sure you like him. He’s good at what he does. I don’t want my relationship with him to skew how you see him.”
I lean in closer to her, helpless to stop myself. I inhale her scent, coconut and lime.
Brushing my lips over her ear, I growl out, “You’re so fucking deep under my skin I’m never going to be able to get you out and you’re worried about protecting my feelings when it comes to your dad?”
She shakes her head in the tiniest of nods, pulse pounding in her throat.
I don’t know what makes me do it, temporary insanity maybe, but a dam breaks and I can no longer hold myself back. Hand on the back of her neck, I move in and she doesn’t fight me. Her eyes flicker to my lips and I know then that she wants this as badly as I do.
This time, I don’t hold myself back from what I’ve wanted since that night at the bonfire.
Our lips connect and it’s like fireworks shoot down my spine. This girl has been driving me crazy for months and I’ve dreamed about what it would be like to touch her, kiss her, hold her. To have her be mine.
She gasps against my mouth and our tongues meet. It’s a passionate kiss, not a timid first meeting of lips. Her pulse drums against my hand at her neck, her heart beating as out of control as mine. I wonder if she can feel it where her palm rests against my chest.
I push into her, spreading her legs with one of mine. She rolls her hips against my leg. I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing it. My hands skim lightly down her sides and she shivers like the last leaf left before winter comes. Settling my hands on her hips I hoist her up and she wraps her legs around my waist. Her arms twine around my neck and I push her into the wall.
Kissing her feels like the closest I’ll ever get to heaven. Her lips are pillow soft and she makes the tiniest sounds in the back of her throat.
My fingers dig into the skin of her waist, exposed from her shirt riding up between us.
Her hands move to my cheeks and she attacks my mouth like she wants this kiss as much, if not more, than I do.
I lose myself in the moment, in her. I allow myself to be selfish and take what I want.
A door in the hallway slams and we jump apart like we’ve been electrocuted. Her legs fall from my waist to the floor, and I keep a steady hold on her hips. Her eyes drop to the floor like she doesn’t want to look at me, and I worry that it’s shame over us finally succumbing to this thing between us.
“Zoey?” I prompt, pleading with her to say something or at least look at me so I know where we stand.
She doesn’t say anything, her eyes staying glued firmly to the gray locker room tiles.
I sigh, stepping back. I don’t even know how to interpret how I feel. We both wanted that kiss. I felt it in the way she kissed me back. It wasn’t just me.
But now…
Her silence speaks volumes.
Hanging my head, I speak softly, “I’m sorry, we’ll forget this ever happened.”
Her head jerks up, lips parted like she wants to say something, but before she can—before I have to hear the rejection on her tongue—I swing the locker room door open, and I’m gone.