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Im-fucking-possible.

I try not to use the word “hate”. It’s a strong emotion and I’ve never really met anyone I hated. I’ve disliked many people. I’m not a fan of a lot. But hate? Not until Coach Heacock.

I thought his reticence during the board meeting announcing that I was granted permission to study the football team dynamics would be the end of it. The board agreed, end of story.

I’m a foolish, foolish little girl.

The only upside is that I’m using every bit of his ire in my thesis. He is a wealth of information. And what’s most interesting is that while he appears to be at the top of the hierarchy, he is in fact the least respected member of the “tribe”. He is tolerated but ignored for the most part. I’ve heard whispers and rumors that he has something in his contract or skeletons in a closet somewhere that prevent the board from canning hisass. Regardless, not only am I documenting everything for my research, but to cover my own ass should something happen.

Third quarter of the 2ndhome game of the season. I’m trying to blend into the wall behind me unsuccessfully. I carefully step out of my hiding spot to fill more cups from the water jug. Coach Beiler has come over several times to check on me and it is very sweet of him to do so. He and several others on the coaching staff are largely why I haven’t given up.

And Crue Pribula. But I’m not happy about it. Honestly, there haven’t been many times in my life where I’ve felt embarrassed. Shit happens; you move on. The world doesn’t stop just because your feelings are hurt or people ridicule you for your actions, appearance, circumstances. Only, Crue witnessed an unfortunate moment, an embarrassing one and I’ve been fixated on it since I left him at the entrance of the athletic complex so I could stew alone in my anger. And the bitch of it is, he seemed to truly care about how I felt. Hell, he practically had steam coming out of his ears and an expression on his handsome face that promised violence to Coach Heacock. I couldn’t let him defend me though. Couldn’t let him put himself in the line of fire. This is my fight. My battle. And after I calmed down, it only fueled my belief in my thesis subject and its importance.

I did want to kick Coach Heacock in the shin. But I didn’t, and that should be commended.

So far this game, I don’t think I’m doing too bad—Oh shit! Spoke too soon.

The play shifts on a dime and suddenly several players from both teams are barreling my way. I step back, bumping into the water table, then scramble with my heart in my throat to move behind it and use it as a barricade. My side to the field, I scream at the top of my lungs as two solid steel bands wind around my middleand hoist me into the air, spinning me so I’m shielded from the incoming attack. It happens in seconds. My feet dangle above the ground, the owner of the most muscular forearms I’ve ever felt grunts in my ear as he absorbs the impact, barely moving an inch, though several cups fall over spilling ice-cold water. Eyes squeezed shut, I sense others moving around me, Beiler’s distant voice calling out to me, but all I can focus on is my own harsh breathing and the purr against my back.

“Mmm…I knew you’d fit perfectly.” I duck my head at the deep soothing tones of his voice. He holds me longer than necessary and I can’t find it in me to protest. I’m throbbing with need, my nipples hard painful points. Slowly, he lowers me to the ground, but he doesn’t give me any space. Instead, he presses harder against my back, molding his body to mine, despite his gear. My chest heaves with a whirling mix of fear, adrenaline, and arousal. “Fuck.”

I push until I’m able to turn around. He barely moves. I force myself to look up. Crue Pribula is a beautiful man of harsh lines and fierce determination, but his eyes…they soften when they meet mine. His jaw unclenches, and his lips slip into a sensual smirk. My gaze drifts to the side, my body jerking when my gaze clashes with the harsh glare of Coach Heacock. This isn’t blending in.

I drop my eyes to the ground and slide to the side away from Crue. Under my lashes, I watch his dark brows dip in confusion. I can’t afford to lose this opportunity. And I won’t put Prib in Coach’s crosshairs.

I mutter a quick, “Thank you”, then scurry down field to the tunnel. In the relative quiet of the bowels of the stadium, I lean against the wall and bend at the waist, putting my hands on my thighs. My entire body trembles, I don’t know if it’s from Pribula or nearly getting trampled to death. Either way, I don’thave time for it. Sucking in a deep breath, I force myself to start moving. Within 10 minutes, I’ve got the water table back to rights, and my breathing under control.

“Hey, Phia. You ok?” A genuine smile stretches my lips as I greet Beiler during a commercial break.

“Yeah, Brandon, I’m good. My heart is still in my ass, but it’ll migrate north again soon, I’m sure.”

“Too much excitement?” His words are innocent enough, but it’s the mischievous glint in his eyes that tell me he means more than my near-death experience. He’s joking about Pribula. My cheeks flush without my permission, but it is what it is.

“Perhaps a little. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I have complete faith in you, Miss Kerr. You need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you, I will.” He chuckles with a wave and walks back to where the team is gathered.

“Girl, that was hot!” A few feet away is a beautiful woman with a camera around her neck and a giant smile. Caramel complexion, long hair in braids, and kind eyes.

“Almost dying, do it for you?”

“Not usually, but the rescue…dayum!” Fanning herself she steps a little closer. “Edee Shingleton. School newspaper photographer.”

“Phia Kerr. Sideline nuisance.”

“Ah, don’t let Coach He-A-Cock into your head. He’s a fucking asshole and not worth your time or tears.”

“He-A-Cock? I love it!” I laugh so hard tears fill my eyes. “Thank you, I desperately needed that.”

“Glad I could help. I’ll let you get back out there, just wanted to tell you, I got some good shots of Big Prib saving you if you want some vag vault material.”

“Oh my gosh!” Edee walks away chuckling. It takes me another minute to stop laughing, and then I force myself to rejoin the team. The rest of the game goes well, and we win. I have no doubt; my phone is pinging with happy messages from my dad. I clean up my station quickly, wanting to minimize my chances of running into Coach.

Finally, I’m walking back to my apartment when someone yells my name. My skin tingles hearing his voice. Over my shoulder, I spot Pribula jogging to catch up with me. I swallow hard, turning slightly to face him. “Hey,” he says with a boyish grin.

“Hey.” I’m a college graduate and that’s the best I’ve got? I clear my throat, “Thank you again for saving my life.”

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