Page 23 of Tempting the Goalie
“Someone is uptight this morning,” Tyler whispers from beside me.
I nod and feel Tyler watching me intently.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I mutter.
“You seem extra giddy this morning,” he says, batting his lashes at me.
“Shut up, you idiot,” I respond, knowing full well that the smile on my face is from Izzy. We didn’t even go all the way and I’m grinning like a fool.
“No, something is different about you. I’m going to get to the bottom of it,” he insists. Thankfully, Coach sends him to the other side of the rink a moment later, which is good because I don’t want to confide in him about what happened with Izzy lastnight. I want to keep this feeling all to myself for now and not dissect what it means.
We start doing drills. The guys are instructed to come at the net hard. Luckily, I had a good warm-up this morning. I slept like a baby last night and woke up early to start my stretches. I want to prove to Coach that I’m responsible.
After practice, Coach Heaton tells me to come to his office after I get changed. I think I did a good job, but by the look on Coach’s face I can tell he isn’t pleased with me.
When I get back to the locker room the guys are all watching me. Macklin is the first one to come up to me. “I thought Coach told you to lay low.”
“I’ve been laying low. I went to Black Jack’s last night with some guys from the team and Izzy and her friends,” I say innocently.
“So, what does he want from you?” Macklin asks.
I’m wondering the same thing.
“Bro, he didn’t look happy,” Tyler says, referring to our coach.
“I could tell,” I deadpan. I head into the shower quickly and get changed. I head straight into Coach’s office, not knowing what to expect.
Coach is sitting at his desk when I arrive. He waves me inside his office and tells me to close the door and take a seat. That’s the first sign this meeting is going south fast.
“What’s going on, Coach?” I ask.
He exhales and begins twiddling his thumbs, sign number two that I’m royally screwed.
“I asked you to lay low. To stay away from the ladies, to keep out of the spotlight,” he begins.
“I’ve done that,” I insist.
“You were seen going into Black Jack’s with three ladies. That isn’t a good number for you, Chabot. I’ve been talking tosome teams for you, and the scouts have asked me if you have a sex addiction. This doesn’t look good.”
“I can explain. That was my best friend Izzy and her friends,” I begin.
He picks his cell off his desk and begins scrolling. He passes the phone to me and my heart skips a beat as I see a video of Izzy and I kissing in my car.
I hiss. “That isn’t what it looks like.”
“It’s exactly what it looks like,” he counters, looking so disappointed. I hate his disappointment, but what I hate more is him grouping Izzy with all the other girls from my past.
“It wasn’t planned, Coach. Izzy is different. She’s my best friend, who I have been in love with since I was a kid,” I splutter.
He raises his brows. I need to say something to fix this.
“We’re together now, Coach. It’s serious. Izzy is a good girl. She does well in school, she’s a psych major, she doesn’t party. She’s very goal oriented,” I mutter.
“So, she would be a good influence on you,” he notes.
“Yes,” I reply, but what have I done? This isn’t good. I shouldn’t be dragging Izzy into my mistakes.
“You care about her,” he says, watching me.
