9. An Interrupted Practice #2
Satisfied. The word triggered something primal in me.
My breath went shallow, burning in my lungs as I stepped closer to Kodi.
Close enough that if I took a deep breath, our chests would touch.
Close enough to smell the soft citrus of her perfume or soap or whatever.
Close enough to see goose bumps fan across her bare shoulders.
“Not just satisfied,” I said, voice rough from all those stupid feelings, from the hurt that she didn’t remember me to the want that burned inside me the second I saw her again, saw her as an adult, through adult eyes.
I wanted her. And I was acting stupid because of it.
“Ha,” Kodi stuttered out, a fluttery sound with a breathy undertone. Her cheeks started to redden and she stepped back, creating a good few feet of space between us, her hands fiddling together in front of her stomach.
Fuck.
I widened the gap between us and balled my hands into fists, letting my nails cut into my palms. I needed to get myself under control, apply all the discipline I put into my career into dealing with Kodi, dealing with my feelings for Kodi. The physical and the emotional.
“Sorry,” I muttered, picking her shoes as my new focus point. Shoes should be safe so long as I don’t become some regency prick and start getting off at the sight of her ankles.
“You’re good,” she muttered. There was a long silence and I fought the urge to look away from her sneakers. They were a plum color. ASICS. A solid brand choice, especially for running.
“But the owners are pushing to build a bigger following on social media,” she said after a deep breath, like she needed that extra boost to say those words.
And to be fair, she probably did, given my immediate reaction, which was to let out a long, heavy sigh and start walking to the bench to get my water.
“Kean, come on,” Kodi said, jogging after me.
“If you wanna do that bullshit, then do it. You’ve got all you need to make a profile, but I’m not participating in that shit.”
“Then the content won’t be engaging or do what it needs to do,” she argued.
“What it needs to do,” I repeated, scoffing. I stopped at the bench, where a few of the other guys were meandering, stretching, getting water themselves, or just chatting. Normally I wouldn’t bother getting into a conversation I didn’t really care about, but I needed an out.
“Sosa, can you …” I called out, eyebrows knitting together. What the fuck could I talk to Sosa about? “Did you … have fun playing?”
“The fuck?” Sosa said, looking over at me like I was a chicken with its head cut off. The other guys around him gave me similar looks, but before I could figure out how to explain my odd behavior, Kodi cut in.
“Just hear me out, Kean,” she said, stepping in front of me, a little out of breath from jogging to catch up.
I stepped back, my footing unstable as my body tensed at her sudden close presence and her perseverance.
“Socials can get you more in touch with the fans, get them to buy tickets, merch. And if it’s something you’re interested in, it could open up a whole world of sponsorship opportunities.”
I stepped to the left, trying to get around the bench and away from Kodi. But of course she stepped right back in my way.
“Oh shit, Kean needs to practice his footwork,” Alvarez heckled somewhere off to my left.
I couldn’t look his way, I couldn’t look away from Kodi.
She was different than before, before being just seconds ago, but still.
She was set on this for some reason and there was something hard in her eyes that intimidated me. No, that wasn’t right. It scared me.
“Seriously, Kean, this is the kind of thing that gives you leverage in deal or trade negotiations. You can’t underestimate what a following can do for you.”
“I don’t have time for … whatever it is you want me to do.”
“I can do most of it. Like you said, I have almost everything I need, but it wouldn’t be authentic. I need some input to make content that would resonate with your fans. And to do that, I need you to actually talk to me.”
“I don’t want to,” I grumbled, making another attempt to get around her. I stepped to the right this time and over the bench, knocking somebody’s bottle over and onto a towel. Oops.
“Oh my fucking god,” Kodi groaned before turning around to follow me. She went around the bench, the guys close to her making some sort of whistles. I paused my retreat, blood rushing in my ears, and turned to yell at them.
But the second I turned, there was Kodi, grabbing my arm with soft hands. I inhaled sharply, the citrus smell almost nauseating. Panicked, I yanked my arm out of her hold.
“What? Do you think I have fucking cooties or something?” she yelled in frustration.
“Obviously not,” I grumbled, shifting back to put space between us, thinking that if I moved slowly she wouldn’t follow after me again.
“Then what the hell is wrong with you? I get you're some sort of social outcast, but this is for the good of your career. Do you really wanna get sacked all because some kid has a bigger following than you? A following you could have if you just gave a shit.”
“Ms. Davey!” some guy shouted and both Kodi and I turned to see Hansen off to the side, hands on his hips. My brow furrowed, confused as to why Hansen would be here and butting into this … argument or whatever it was.
“Goddamn it,” Kodi hissed under her breath before walking around me to head to Hansen, head down.
Confused, I took a step towards her. But before my foot hit the ground, somebody’s arm wrapped around my chest.
“All right, Kean,” Gallagher said, pulling me backwards, damn near bending me over with our height difference.
“The fuck are you —”
“He’s keeping you from making a bigger ass out of yourself,” Brooker said, looping his arm around mine, joining Gallagher in this keep me from Kodi mission.
“Yeah. You should be thanking me.”
I huffed, but gave up fighting as they thunked my ass onto a bench.
“Why’s the stick up your ass bigger than normal?” Sosa asked, tossing a towel at me.
“I don’t have a stick up my ass.”
“Uh-huh. And the sky isn’t blue,” Brooker said with a huff, sitting next to me and knocking his leg into mine. “Seriously, dude, you’re being a dick to Kodi.”
I made a grumble, not too happy to talk to him when he kept saying Kodi’s name like he knew her.
“Is she a bad assistant or something?” Sosa asked. “She’s only been here a couple days, cut her some slack.”
“She’s a great PA.” I might not want all these guys talking about her, but I didn’t want them thinking poorly of her either.
“Then why’re you being such a bitch to her?” Brooker asked. “She seems like a nice girl. She —”
“Don’t,” I warned, voice low. Brooker didn’t back down, though. Instead, he leveled me with a stern look and put an arm around my shoulder.
“No,” he said, bringing his hand up to thunk my head. “I don’t listen to dicks who’re mean to women.”
“I’m not —” I tried to argue, only to be cut off by another towel hitting the back of my head.
“Kean. Drinks after practice. Not optional,” Christenson shouted from behind me and my whole body stiffened. I hated going out with the team, especially on a game week. We should be preparing our bodies to perform at their best, but instead, my teammates preferred to blow off steam at a local pub.
Normally everyone respected my choice to not participate in their little team building parties, just like I didn’t chastise them for risking a hangover.
But given Christenson’s tone, that unspoken agreement didn’t count today.
“Understood.” I threw a thumps-up over my shoulder, not wanting to turn and see Christenson’s disappointment.
As a captain, Christenson always encouraged us to do better, be better, all that good shit.
But if you pissed him off … well, let’s just say I’d rather spend a miserable night at a bar than be on Christenson’s bad side.
“Good. Let’s get back to it then.”