14. Cecelia
FOURTEEN
CECELIA
“God, I’m glad it’s Friday,” Helen says as we drag ourselves off the field.
“Same.” I guzzle some water, resisting the temptation to pour it over my head. From the way Coach Carla is glaring at us, I have a feeling a lecture is coming and I don’t want to sit through it in a drenched sports bra—if she gets herself on a tear, she can talk for ages.
“Oh look,” Helen says. “Your gorgeous man is here. Lucky bitch.”
I didn’t really need her to point out Solomon’s presence. I’ve been aware of him since he set foot on the field twenty minutes ago.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I tell her. “He’s my trainer.”
“Yeah, that means he touches you.” She nudges me with her shoulder, grinning. “I bet he has good hands.”
For once, I’m relieved to be red-faced and sweating like a pig after practice—it makes it less likely she’ll notice my blush.
I’ve found that it’s essential I don’t let myself think too much about Solomon Barnes’s hands. Or his eyes. Or shoulders. Or—
Get it together, girl, I think, running a towel over my face.
In the two weeks since I went to his grandfather’s ranch, Sol and I have settled into a fairly comfortable routine with our training. I can’t say that all the fear has magically left my body, but I no longer feel so defensive about it. And that means I find it a lot easier to let him help me.
And he does help. My legs feel a lot stronger, my joints looser. I don’t require as much time with my ice packs at night and I’ve been getting regular sports massages without freaking out anytime the masseuse gets within six inches of my knee.
I also haven’t woken up shaking with terror from a nightmare about my injury in more than a week.
And if I’ve replaced some of those nightmares with very pleasant dreams about my student athletic trainer, I’m certainly not going to admit it.
Solomon tips his head toward Coach, his usual serious expression on his face as he murmurs something to her. Coach nods, still looking grumpy about our performance at practice, and he jogs over in my direction.
“Hey,” he says, nudging me away from Helen, who shoots me a smug look before she walks off to join the others.
“How do your hamstrings feel? Your extension was looking a little off.” My annoyance must show in my expression because his lips curve.
He leans down closer to me and I send up a silent prayer that my extra-strength deodorant is doing its job.
“I told Coach Carla I wanted to work on some stretching with you while your muscles are still warm,” he murmurs so no one else can hear.
I grin. “You got me out of the lecture, didn’t you?”
“Don’t say I never did anything for you, Ransome.”
I smother my laugh as I follow him off the field, ignoring the put-out glares from my teammates as I abandon them to Coach’s bad mood.
He leads me down past midfield and plops down on the grass, gesturing for me to join him. “Let’s start with quad stretches.”
Solomon is a good trainer. He always starts by joining me in the stretch, as if to gently demonstrate proper form, before moving to his knees to observe me.
He’s really knowledgeable about everything relating to anatomy and fitness.
I’ve noticed lots of girls on the team seeking him out for advice, or asking him to tape their joints—granted, some of them were clearly just flirting with him, but most of them seem really interested in what he has to say.
The training staff seems impressed by him, too. Unlike the other student trainers, they hardly seem to be overseeing him, instead letting him do his own thing with his athletes for the most part. It’s a lot of responsibility, but I haven’t seen anything to make me think he’s not up to it.
“See,” he says as I move into a forward fold. “Hamstrings look tight.”
I make a displeased noise. “I thought that was just an excuse to get me out of Coach’s ass-chewing.”
“Saving you from fifteen minutes of boredom was just a bonus. Here, lay back and lift your leg.” Then he moves to hover over me, gently taking my ankle and bringing it up, helping me to get deeper into the stretch.
I stare up at the blue sky, desperate to keep my eyes from his face.
He’s way too close, and his hands do feel good, damn it.
Of course he’s completely professional. His fingers never stray from where they absolutely need to be, his touch always light. But that doesn’t stop my mind from going to crazy places. Like what it might feel like if he’d just slip down a little—
Stop.
“Any plans this weekend?” he asks, now pushing my knee close to my chest. His voice sounds a little more scratchy than usual, but I refuse to let myself think it might mean anything.
“My cousin’s bridal shower is tomorrow,” I tell him, still avoiding his face.
“That’s exciting.”
I snort. “Not super exciting. Ever since my older cousins started getting married and having babies, this kind of thing happens all the time.” I bite back a groan when he deepens the stretch. “Besides, bridal showers suck.”
He makes an amused sound. “Can’t say I’ve ever been to one.”
“You’re lucky. Bunch of girly shit.”
His laugh is a soft rumble that goes straight to my chest.
“What about you?” I ask. “Will you be helping out at your grandpa’s again?”
“Nah. I have a paper due next week and Jay is dragging me to some lame party tonight, so I’ll need to get it done tomorrow.”
“You not a fan of parties?”
“I’m not a fan of the kind of parties that Jay likes to go to,” he mutters, sounding put out. It makes me smile.
“Then why’d you let him talk you into it?”
He sighs, releasing my ankle and tapping the side of my other knee so I lift that leg. “It’s a deal we have. I’m supposed to let him pick an activity for us at least once every other week.”
“Pick an activity?”
“Yeah, something social. Like a sporting event or a show or something.” I see his lips twitch out of the corner of my eye—since I’m working to not look at him directly.
“Or a frat party filled with crazy girls who kick the balls of their cousin’s exes and throw punch on innocent bystanders who are just trying to help. ”
“That sounds terrible,” I say drily. “I’m glad I don’t know anyone that disruptive.”
He makes a low noise in his chest, something I can’t quite identify and don’t want to think about for too long. I clear my throat and push on.
“That kind of sounds like the set-up to a Rom-Com, you know,” I say. “Jay picking a social activity for you guys every weekend.”
“Every other week,” he corrects, and then sighs.
“Might as well be a Rom-Com. I’ve long since accepted the fact that the two of us will end up as platonic life-mates.
There’s no way he’ll ever get a girl to stick around long enough to be in an actual relationship, and he’ll guilt me into moving in to keep him company. ”
That makes me snort with laughter. “There are worse ways to live, I guess.”
He scoffs. “Have you ever shared a bathroom with Jay?”
“So what was this deal you made that says he gets control of your social calendar?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. Nothing overtly changes in the way he’s touching me, but I feel tension seeping over us, and I wonder if I asked something I shouldn’t.
“I have a tendency to self-isolate,” he finally mutters, his voice tight. “It can, uh, be a problem.”
I mull that over. It’s not exactly relatable to me—I can’t remember the last time I was without a cousin or sibling or teammate for more than a few waking hours.
But Ash can be the same way. If left to his own devices, the guy could stay in his room for weeks on end.
But we never leave him to his own devices.
We learned our lesson with that a long time ago.
“Then I’m glad you have Jay,” I say softly, mind still on Ash and scary moments I wish I could forget.
“Yeah,” he says, voice sounding intentionally light. “I would usually agree. But I really hate frat parties.”
“We’re having people over tonight,” I say, and immediately second-guess myself. I’m supposed to be keeping things professional. But he brought me to his grandpa’s ranch. We can be professional and still be friendly, right? It doesn’t have to mean anything.
I swallow. “Not a huge party, just some friends. You’re more than welcome to come over.”
His hands still. “I…Um.”
“I mean, no pressure,” I hurry to continue, hating the heat I feel coming to my cheeks. This was definitely a mistake. “I just thought you might like it better than a frat party, since it will be more low-key.”
“Are you…your cousins wouldn’t mind?”
I roll my eyes. Violet and Vega will be thrilled—it will give them a new opportunity to tease me about my supposed crush. “My cousins would be happy to have you guys.” I remember who he was with at the last party. “Emery is welcome too.”
He looks down at me, catching my eye. There’s amusement glinting in his. “Why’d you say her name like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you had something sour in your mouth.”
“I didn’t?”
He just holds my gaze until I squirm, uncomfortable. “She broke up with Jenny three days before the conference tournament started!”
“Because she caught Jenny kissing some other chick outside the commons.”
I grumble. “Yeah, well, Jenny turned into Swiss cheese in the net after that. Totally fucked up our chances.”
“Unbelievable.”
I throw up my hands. “I’m just saying, she could have waited until after the tournament.”
“You’re ridiculous, Ransome.” But his voice is thick with amusement. Maybe even fondness.
“Do you want to come to our party or not?” I grumble.
He pats the side of my knee again before releasing my leg, done with the stretch. “I’ll ask Jay but I bet he’ll be into it.”
“Cool.” I pull myself up into a sitting position, feeling awkward now that we’re not training anymore. It felt normal when he was helping me with my stretches, but now I’m fully aware that I’m sitting inches away from him in the grass, sweaty and wearing a sports bra.