Page 4 of Not My Coach

The way he is looking at me has my body on fire. He must have X-ray vision because he’s staring at me like I’m sitting in this chair, naked. And he likes what he sees.

It’s been quite a while since I had a one-night stand. I hung that habit up, hoping to finally settle down and find the love of my life. But maybe I could come out of retirement just once.

His gaze continues to consume me, and as I part my lips to speak, he says, “Are you enjoying your date?”

This time, it’s me who laughs. “What do you think?”

The air is fucking heavy as he fully turns to me and holds my stare. “I would like to think you’re not having a good time.”

I scoff playfully, “You hope it’s going bad?”

He smirks, and his eyes darken. “Yes.”

“Why’s that?” I challenge him.

Without breaking eye contact, he confidently says, “Because then I wouldn’t have a chance to show you the kind of date you actually deserve.”

My panties fucking dampen.

Who the hell is this guy?

I’ve never been shy when it comes to guys. I’ve never been the girl who has to wait for a guy to make a move. I’ve also never been afraid of rejection. What’s the worst that can happen? They’re not interested, and then I move on. Simple.

I’ve yet to do something this bold. But I’m happy to push my limits and grow.

Sitting forward in my chair, I tap the table casually, drop my gaze, then look back up. “So, you think you could do a better job then?”

He chuckles darkly. “That’s not something I need to waste energy thinking about. I know I could do better.”

Standing up, I saunter around to the opposite side of my table and grab the chair, pulling it out from beneath the table. “Here you go. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I feel his eyes on me as I walk back to my chair and sit down.

“What about your friend in the restroom?” he says condescendingly as he stands up and shrugs off his suit jacket.

“Tell him that you’re taking over,” I hum, interested if he’s willing to actually do that or if he’ll chicken out.

I would feel bad for Brad, but I know for a fact that I’m not the only girl on his roster.

“What’s your name, handsome?” I ask, taking another sip of my drink.

He grabs his glass and walks over to the chair, hangs his jacket on the back of it, and sits down. He stretches his hand across the table. “Nathaniel. You can call me Nate.”

Politely, I take his hand and shake it firmly. “Evie. Nice to meet you in this incredibly unorthodox way.” I chuckle.

He smiles, and for the first time, I really see the pearly whites that glisten in the lights. Is there anything about him that isn’t perfect? Maybe he has a really small dick.

No. No way a man that comfortable and confident in who he is has any doubt in his manhood. Maybe it’s average-sized and he really knows how to use it. Regardless, I desperately want to find out.

“What the fuck? Excuse me, douchebag, you’re in my seat,” Brad scoffs as he walks up behind Nate.

Nate doesn’t even look up at him. Instead, he holds my gaze, and I remain silent to see how this is going to play out.

“Not anymore, it’s not,” Nate says matter-of-factly, a hint of warning in his words.

“Eve, are you letting this happen right now?” he asks me, clearly shocked at the situation he’s found himself in.

Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “First off, my name is Evie, not Eve. You haven’t known me long enough to earn that right. Secondly, I think you are well aware that we are not a compatible fit, and if you haven’t figured it out, then I’m sorry that you have to go through life with such a lack of self-awareness.”

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