Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Shepard has been poking me and prodding me and egging me on. And as dangerous as it is, as dangerous as I am, I’ve tried to do my best to let it go. To ride it out and let him off the hook.
But now I’m the head coach and shit like this can’t fly.
And I guess he knows that.
I guess he knows I can’t let him go this time.
This is exactly the kind of situation I try to avoid. Where I’m this close to losing it. I’ve imagined it a million times in my head, of course. A scenario where Shepard is provoking me and he thinks it’s all fun and games. But unbeknownst to him, I’m burning inside. I’m getting ready to explode. Where he’s the one who’s going to come out with third-degree burns.
I’m not sure how I do it, but I know I have to go really, really deep inside of me to find the strength to keep my voice even and my features made of ice as I say, “In my office.”
He watches me for a few seconds.
Then as if coming to a conclusion, he throws me a cocky smirk and a chin lift.
For his sake, I turn around and simply walk out of the room.
I head toward my office across the hall. It’s not my office, per se, because this isn’t our locker room. We have a few away games before we get to go back to our home base. So this is a temporary space, but it’s as good as any. When I hear him enter the room, I turn around to face him.
I ignore the little smile that’s still lingering on his face and say, “Close the door.”
He eyes me for a few seconds before doing as I say. Then he goes ahead and leans against it, folding his arms across his chest like everything is fucking fantastic and he isn’t summoned by one of his coaches.
“What was that?” I ask, standing by the desk.
“An invitation,” he says both casually and meaningfully.
“To get your ass kicked?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Are you going to kick my ass?”
Ignoring his jab, I announce, “I want you on that field an hour before everyone else tomorrow. Is that clear? And don’t make me wait or it’ll be two hours earlier the day after.”
Not that it affects him one bit because his cocky tone’s still in place. “That’s it?”
I jerk my chin up at the door. “You can leave now.”
“That’s all you’re gonna do?” he goes as if he can’t believe me.
He better thank God that that’s all I am going to do. But I don’t say it like I don’t say or do a million things on a daily basis. What I do do, though, is round the desk to go sit in my chair. “Close the door behind you.”
“Come on, Stella,” he keeps talking. “Give me something here. I fucking insulted you in front of the whole team.”
Ignoring his childish nickname for me as always, I stare at him impassively. “I’m waiting.”
“I’m waiting too,” he insists. “Be a man. Grow a pair.”
My knuckles tingle like they do a lot when he’s around. My teeth clench too and my skin feels heated. Still, I say, “You don’t want me to grow a pair. Now leave.”
He watches me for a few seconds, all earlier playfulness gone from his face. His eyes, so much like mine, are grave. Then, “Are you serious?”
“Leave,” I say, steel in my voice.
Maybe now he’ll get the message.
Now he’ll understand how much of a danger he’s in. How he needs to get away from me so I don’t hurt him.
His jaw clenches now. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re something, aren’t you?” Then, shaking his head and raking fingers through his hair, “Look, I’m not a very patient guy and last year has tested my fucking patience more than you can imagine. So I’m trying to live in my fuck it era, all right? Maybe you can take all this tension. Maybe you can thrive on sweeping things under the rug, but I’m not you, yeah? I’m not fucking you and I can’t take it. So we need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I tell him, my voice vibrating now with the strain of keeping it even.
“Yeah, that’s where you and me are different,” he says. “Because I think we should’ve had this conversation months ago.”
I grit my teeth. “Don’t.”
He doesn’t take my advice. “Do you remember Sarah Ann?”
My body tightens at that name.
I haven’t heard it in years now. Mostly because she was in my high school math class. And once upon a time, she used to be Shepard’s girlfriend. But only because I used to like her. I don’t even remember her face anymore, but back when I was fifteen, I do remember having a little crush on her.