Page 9 of The Coach

He crosses his arms and straightens his stance. He is all dominating male. His eyes darken and he talks down to me. It's not hard when he's so tall, but I hate it just the same. "I understand you're angry, but things aren't always what they seem. You don't know my situation. And let's get one thing straight right now—I didn't cheat on my wife with you, like you think."

He didn't? But Jasmine worked out that he had a wife, I don't get it. I blink back at him. I look to his hand. Still no wedding band. Lies, I'm sure, to get me back on his side now that he's a part of my team. "How could that be possible? I know you're married," I snap. It was all there online, pictures of him and his stunning wife.

He doesn't answer right away, just stares right back at me, as if contemplating what to say next. I notice a flash of hurt in his eyes, then he answers me. "If you must know, we're separated. She left me two months ago for my best mate, another player on my team, Byron Stanford." His face softens when he says it, and I see a glimpse of the real him, not the stuffy coach trying to put on an act. This Brad is vulnerable, he's been hurt. Really hurt, by the sounds of it.

I take a step back, feeling like a mega bitch for my snarky attitude and the way I just walked out on him that morning. This was not what I was expecting him to say at all. I came over here so prepared for a fight, because over the last month, I have painted him as the bad guy in my head. Hated him for what I thought he'd done. But the bitch cheated on him with Byron Stanford.

The name rings a bell straight away; he's often in the tabloids for having a reputation for dating beautiful high-society women. I don't know a lot about him other than he also plays for Chelsea, so it must have really stung when Brad worked it out.

I guess I was quick to judge because, from my experience, men can't be trusted. And in this case, I guess women can be just as bad. One of the reasons I don't do relationships. Not once did I think this could have been a misunderstanding.Good one, Andy.

I look at his features and take him in properly for the first time tonight. I can see the pain he carries. What do I say to what he just told me? It was too personal for a coach to be telling one of his players, and I feel like we have already crossed too many lines.

I swallow the lump in my throat. I'm not going to apologize, cause I don't do that, but I do feel bad for him. "Well, that's shitty," I offer.

"Yeah, it was." He sighs, and the way he does makes me feel like me believing him was really important to him. That was weighing heavily on him. He looks me over and I wonder what he's thinking. I really don't know anything about him at all, except he was an exceptional soccer player and he is fucking insane in bed. And that attraction I felt that night, it's still swirling through the air between us. My body feels alive in a strange way just standing this close to him.

Maybe it would have been better if he was the asshole I thought, would have made it easier to ignore this chemistry. Now I have to get through this year knowing my coach has seen me naked. Not only that, he was the best fuck of my life. And even worse, he made me feel things I have never felt before, and that alone is very, very dangerous.

He drops his arms, looking a little more relaxed. "I think you owe me some sort of explanation." He takes one of my braids and flicks it over my shoulder. "Andy, the mechanic who knows nothing about soccer?" He raises a brow, a small smile playing on his lips. He has me there. I was lying through my teeth.

I laugh a little. "Ahh, yeah. About that. Well, my friends call me Andy, not Andrea, and it was a kind of stupid drunk challenge thingy between me and my roommates."

"Elaborate," he says with a little smirk.

"You know when you get a bit drunk and play games with your friends? This one was who could get the first phone number from a guy while using a fake identity." I pull a face because this must look ridiculously immature to him.

"Can't say I have ever played a game like that, but I guess that explains the identity change. Just tell me one thing. You knew who I was, didn't you?"

I give him a sassy smile. He was really worried some random girl didn't know who he was. What an ego. "Yeah, I love soccer. I knew who you were." I'm not telling him he was the poster boy on my wall. There is no way he needs his head inflated that badly.

He grins, as if proud that I did. "I knew it." He grows a little more serious. "Are we going to be okay?" he asks, a little uncertain. "Or is this going to be a problem?" He gestures between us, and I have to wonder if he's referring to the one-night stand we had or the fucking hot tension I can feel radiating between us just being so close to him again.

"Yeah." I shrug, but there's no confidence to my voice or my stance. I don't know if we are going to be alright this year at all. How can I answer that tonight? But we have to be. I will just have to forget about that night, pretend it didn't happen. "Let's just start fresh right now. Whatever happened that night, it wasn't us, just two strangers," I offer, because in all honesty, I don't really know what else to do. I've never been in this type of situation before, and it's uncomfortable as fuck. And the truth is, the last thing I need is the rest of my team thinking I have anything going on with him and that I'm getting special treatment. Other than my two besties, the rest of my team aren't as friendly with me. Jealously is a curse when you're the best. And I don't need more drama.

He gives an understanding nod. "Okay, if that's what you want to do?"

The way he asks it, what is that? I thought I was making this easy for him, letting him off the hook. Isn't that what he wants to do? I'm pretty positive he doesn't want anyone else to know what happened. I mean, we didn't know each other at all, but it doesn't look good to the club. "Yes, this definitely needs to be left in the past and never talked about again," I say with more confidence in my voice.

"Alright, Andy. Guess I will see you at training tomorrow."

I offer a smile. The use of my nickname isn't lost on me. Does he think we're friends? And why do I kinda hope he does. "Yes, tomorrow," I mutter.

I know I'm supposed to be walking away from him, but I can't remove my eyes from his. He breaks eye contact first and slowly leaves the room, me watching his every step. I'm left wondering what the fuck that just was. It felt like a meaningful moment between us, when it really shouldn't have.

One minute I fucking hated his guts, and now I'm back to feeling, I don't know… confused? How the hell am I going to get through this year now?

Chapter Four

Andy

I drovehome in a bit of a daze, the conversation I just had with Brad running through my head on repeat. The way he looked at me… made me feel by just being close to him. And I could see he was just as thrown by all of this. Now I'm sitting in the driveway of the modern four-bedroom house I share with my sister and two friends. I think I'm still in shock.

Brad Swift is my new coach. And not a cheating asshole. And the sexiest man on the planet. My body is still swirling with excitement from just talking to him.

I guess I should get moving, go inside. The other girls are probably wondering where I am. I grab my bag and make my way up the driveway. Our house is very modern, all white rendered walls on the outside with a garden of cacti lining the driveway. I'm not one of those spoiled brats who doesn't know how lucky she is to have a privileged upbringing. I know how blessed I am. I have always had whatever I needed and wanted, no questions asked, and my sisters are the same. My parents bought this place for me and Jas a few years back, and we pay rent to them, but one day it will be ours to divide up and share the profits between us.

My family have always been quite well off because my dad was a movie producer in the eighties and nineties and made a shit ton of money. My parents are trying to teach us how to make it on our own but giving us a hand at the same time, cause there is no way Jas and I would be able to afford a place like this if they didn't buy it.

---