Page 58 of Whistle

“No,” he said, walking back to his desk, my schedule still in his grip. “Campus housing just called. They were able to find you a spot in the dorm. Your roommate isn’t Elite, but you’re in the same dorm with the other swimmers. It’s all that was available, so you’ll have to make do for this semester.”

A rush of emotion overcame me, and I stared at my feet, blinking rapidly. I felt stupid. Stupid and overwhelmed. Maybe it was the argument I’d just had with Rush. Maybe the panic attack first thing this morning.

Or maybe it was because my entire life was upside down.

I’d handled all of that just fine until now. Okay, maybe not fine. But I’d handled it. So why did I suddenly feel like crying? He really is kicking me out. Sending me someplace with some stranger just so he wouldn’t have to look at me.

“Building and room number are here,” he said, sticking a yellow note to my schedule. “You can move in now.”

My chest hurt, my stomach ached, and the backs of my eyes felt grainy. Swallowing it all down, I strolled across the room to snatch the paper with my dorm assignment attached. “I hope my roomie likes to party.”

“No parties.”

“No?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Is that against the rules?”

His face darkened.

I smiled, a big, beautiful flash of teeth. “I don’t recall a list of rules anywhere.” I made a show of looking at my paper. “Nope. Just a list of classes.”

The muscles in his jaws jutted out. It made me recall the way his scruff felt against my balls when he was deep-throating me. “You’re Elite. No parties.”

I made a sly sound. “I’m not much for crowds anyway. I prefer more intimate get-togethers. Two people.” I gave him a wink. “Maybe three.”

His eyes flashed and his hand shot out, taking a fistful of my hair.

I smiled serenely. “Is there a problem, Coach?”

“You test my patience.” The words were practically a growl, his fingers tightening in my hair. I pushed my head closer, enjoying his possessiveness.

Like he can make me stay.

“Why’s that?” I batted my baby blues. “You don’t like the idea of me and a party of two?”

He yanked, and I tumbled forward, our chests colliding. This close, his eyes appeared green with flecks of gold still at the center. He stared intently, and I had the urge to squirm against him. Instead, I leaned in a little more, letting his body support mine. He smelled like chlorine and something more, something woodsy and deep.

His fingers gentled in my hair, scratching lightly into the strands and then dragging through them. He did it several times, and my eyelids grew heavy.

“You’re, ah, personal life is not my concern,” he said abruptly, untangling his fingers and stepping away.

I swayed at the sudden change, and he caught my elbow to steady me. “What?” I asked, trying to keep up.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with swimming or the reputation of this team, it’s not my concern.”

Scowling, I pulled back.

“Sit down,” he directed, pointing to a seat at the front of his desk. I flicked my gaze to his desk chair, thinking of when I’d sat in his lap.

“I can’t. I have to move into my new place.” I spun away, but he caught my arm.

“Ass in that chair, Lawson.”

“Coach, you really shouldn’t talk about my ass. What would the dean say?”

His face pinched as though he’d eaten something rotten. “Since you seem to need a list of rules, I’m going to give you one.”

I laughed.

“Rule one.” He started. “Dorm curfew is ten on weeknights. Eleven on Saturday.”

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