It’s a sacrifice I’m more than willing to make.
“Anything else anyone wants to whine about?” Coach asks with a bushy eyebrow raised. When there’s no response, he continues, “Good. One more thing before I send you guys to the weight room.”
“We have a new journalist working with the team this year. They will be doing their usual duties, but this year will be a different approach. They’ll also be attending away games along with doing some behind the scenes for the school’s social media page.”
Thank God. I fucking hated Jimmy. He always tried to get me to sit for an interview, only to stray away from baseball, which is why he never got more than a few words from me. I’m happy to see him go.
Coach’s face turns serious, his arms crossing over his chest. “If any of you harass her, I will personally see to kicking your ass myself, got it? I expect all of you to make her feel comfortable and welcome to RLU baseball.”
Her?
I begin to wonder who she could be when the door opens, answering my question.
Camille.
This has to be some kind of joke. I’ve successfully avoided her since Halloween—well, just her presence because she hasn’t left my thoughts since—and now I’m really never going to get rid of her if she’s around the team all the time.
Great.
“This is Camille,” Coach says, turning his attention to her. “You have impeccable timing, Camille. I was just telling the team about you. We can chat in my office about your duties for our upcoming trip to New Mexico.”
Fuck. Me.
“Sounds great,” she replies, smiling brightly, scanning the room as she walks toward his office.
Her eyes land on mine and she briefly comes to a halt, her cheeks reddening before she continues on to Coach’s office.
What was that about?
“All right, boys, get your asses in the weight room and see me in two hours for a tape review of last season,” Coach dismisses us and follows after Camille.
The room is quiet for a beat as we all get changed into our workout gear until a freshman, Travis, opens his mouth. “I suddenly have the urge to answer all post-game interview questions,” he teases, suggestively waggling his eyebrows up and down.
“She’s a knockout, that’s for sure,” Cuddy chimes in, and I shoot him a lethal glare.
“Coach said to leave her be,” I warn them. I tell myself it’s because Coach is intimidating as hell and I don’t want them to get in shit. But truthfully, it’s driving me fucking nuts hearing them talk about her like that. Cuddy’s comment wasn’t bad since he’s not wrong, but Travis’s makes me uneasy. The guy is a loose cannon, and I heard he’s been through half of the freshmen class already.
“He said not to make her uncomfortable. So don’t worry, I’ll make her feel real good,” he drawls.
Anger ripples through me at his comment. The image of him touching her runs through my mind, making my fists clench.
Travis struts by me as a couple of guys chuckle, and I extend my foot slightly, watching in delight as he faceplants onto the floor. The room bursts into laughter as Travis shoots up to his feet, getting in my face.
“What the hell, bro? What was that for?”
I don’t flinch as I tower over him, levelling him with a I don’t give a fuck look.
“Watch yourself,” I tell him, my tone clipped. I turn and walk out of the room. I don’t know if he’s smart enough to get my implication, but for his sake, I hope he did.
The anger pumping in my body fuels my workout session. A kind I haven’t felt since I was a pissed off teenager constantly getting into fights at school. The same kind that got me in a lot of trouble and nearly got me a record at sixteen.
“Fuck,” I grunt, shoving the bar with an added 200 pounds on top of it up to the rack.
“You’re lifting a little heavy today. You good?” Noah remarks, tossing a towel at me.
I wipe the sweat off my face, taking deep breaths. “I’m good.”
“Then why’d you trip Travis like a middle schooler would?”