Page 28 of Pieces

“Coach will absolutely have your balls if you go near her,” Seb says, matter of fact.

He’s right, and yet here I am, knowing exactly what it’s like to be inside of her. My mouth waters and not in a good way. More in a I’m-gonna-upchuck-everything-in-my-stomach kinda way.

I’m fully unprepared to come face to face with her, to deal with any of this. Coach would know immediately that I fucked her. I’m shit at lying and he has a sixth sense, and I just know he’d know. The man can sense bullshit from a mile away.

If I wasn’t breathing heavily from all this training, I’d be hyperventilating.

Coach’s whistle cuts through the air. “Bring it in.”

My legs feel like they weigh a ton, but I force them to move, falling in line with the others as we jog toward the center of the field. Heat envelops me from my body, trying to regulate after that brutal bout of suicides, but that’s not why my chest feels tight. I don’t get nervous, not during games, not during practice, not even when Coach decides we need to “dig deep” and break ourselves on the turf like today. But right now? My pulse hammers in a way I don’t recognize, and I hate it.

I trail behind a few of the guys, not wanting to be at the front of the huddle. I’d like to keep my balls where they are, and putting myself in front of her will do the opposite, I fear.

Glancing over a few of the guys, I see her lean in to Coach and just catch her saying, “See you later, Dad.”

Well, there’s my confirmation.

She turns to walk away, her blonde hair blowing in the breeze, her full hips swaying. Fuck me. Do not get hard here, Hudson. Do not.

“Who’s that, Coach?” Benny pipes up, sounding way too curious for his own good. His grin practically screamsdeath wish.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous,” Nate adds, digging his own grave. Nice knowing you, man.

Coach’s nostrils flare in a way that has us all bracing. It’s the same look he gets right before he tears into us during halftime when we’re playing like shit, right before the yelling…

“I’m only going to say this once,” Coach growls, his voice dangerously low as he points at each of us like he’s marking targets. My stomach twists.

“Ifanyof you so much aslookat her, let alone talk to her or—God help you—touch her, you’ll wish you’d never worn this jersey. Endless burpees. Suicides until you’re begging for mercy. And that’s just the beginning. Do I make myself clear?”

The team mutters their agreement, but I barely hear it over the sound of my own funeral march playing in my head.

It’s official.

I’m a dead man.

***

The shower beats down on me, scalding hot, as I keep my head under it, hoping it’ll somehow wash away my sins.

My hands move on autopilot as I scrub the evidence of that brutal practice as fast as I can. The aches in my muscles are nothing compared to the racing in my mind.

Images, sounds, sensations of that night flood me like a tsunami. I’m reeling, unable to figure out what to do next.

It’s funny how we never even touched on the obvious, where we’re from, what schools we go to. The conversation just flowed naturally, until suddenly, we were back in my hotel room.

One little snippet of information would’ve stopped me in my tracks and I wouldn’t be in this situation.

Well, okay, maybe not totally stopped me, but it would’ve made me think with my head and not just my dick. Maybe. Probably.

I turn off the faucet, yank a towel from the rack, and rub at my face harder than I need to. My teammates’ voices echo in the locker room, laughter and shouts about plays and plans for the weekend. Normally, I’d jump in, toss some jokes, maybe egg on Seb about how he can’t handle his liquor. But I don’t even glance at them. I don’t have time for small talk.

This isn’t something I can sit on. I need to talk to Jay.

I’m half-dressed when I grab my bag and bolt for the door. Someone calls my name, but I’m already out, jogging through the hallways until I’m across campus, pulling my hoodie over my head. The cooler September air bites at my damp hair, but I barely notice. Jay’s dorm isn’t far, just across the quad.

I trust Jay with everything. We’ve been through a lot and he’s always helping me fix my screw-ups, but I’m not sure he can fix this one. If Coach finds out I slept with his baby girl, he’ll have my balls in a vise for the rest of the season. He could bench me. Oh fuck, my chest is getting tight again. I can’t be benched. I can’t lose everything I’ve worked my whole life for. Everything I have planned for my future.

I take the stairs two at a time and knock on Jay’s door, harder than I mean to. There’s a muffled “Coming!” from inside, and a second later, he opens it, wearing sweats and a confused look.

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