Possessive Coach

“I don’t know why not. He’s hot.”

“He’s a dick. And entitled. And selfish.”

She laughs. “Okay, so you hate him.”

I sigh and rub my eyes. “No, it’s not that. I’m just tired, I guess.”

“Sure, whatever.” We head toward the English building. “Want to meet up later for lunch?”

“Sorry,” I say. “Scheduled for tutoring this afternoon.”

“Seeing Erik again?”

“No, thankfully.”

“Well, okay then. I’m going surfing this afternoon so I guess I’ll see you back at the apartment tonight.”

“Sounds good. See you later.”

She waves and heads off deeper into campus as I make my way to my Irish Literature class.

I’m distracted the whole discussion of James Joyce’s story collection, Dubliners. I actually really liked it, but I keep thinking about the way Erik twisted my wrists… and about the way Coach Fyall punched him to the ground.

David. David punched him to the ground. It’s strange to think of Coach Fyall as David. When he joined the team my freshman year, everyone kept talking about the hot new young coach. He was only thirty back then, super young to have an assistant coach position, but ever since he joined, the team’s been doing great. Girls call him Coach Hottie behind his back, although I’m pretty sure he knows about it already. He’s tall, as tall as most of the players, and incredibly muscular. I’ve seen him working out after practice with some of the guys, and he’s just as fit as they are.

He has gorgeous green eyes, a little bit of stubble, and brown hair cut short and pushed back to the side. My heart skipped a beat when he punched Erik and knocked him down, and at the time I thought it was out of fear.

Now I’m starting to think it was out of something else.

There was a moment when he walked me to the door. Our eyes locked and I thought he might kiss me. As insane as it sounds, I wanted him to. I wanted that kiss, wanted him to come up with me, wanted him to protect me all night long. But he turned away and the moment was over, although we did exchange numbers.

I don’t know what that means. He’s probably just trying to be nice and discreet. He probably doesn’t know how to handle what happened any better than I do. I just hope we can both move on with our lives, and I never have to deal with Erik Pacific again.

After class, I head to the athletics building. I have to keep up with my tutoring responsibilities, but as soon as I get near the low rectangular building where all the main athletics clubs are located, I feel like I should turn around and leave. The idea of running into Erik makes my skin crawl. I keep thinking about that look in his eyes, about the way he shoved me backwards and was coming toward me for more. I don’t know what he planned, but I know it wasn’t going to be good, and might’ve left me in a lot of pain.

I push open the wide glass door and head into the lobby. I flash my student ID then ride the elevator up to the third floor. It’s relatively empty for a weekday, but since the weather’s so nice, most students are either outside on campus or down at the beach. I walk down the carpeted hallway, past rooms with closed doors, past a training room, past a break room, and head into the tutoring room.

I let out a little sigh of relief when I find it empty. I don’t know what I expected. Erik doesn’t know that I’m scheduled today, and if he does, I doubt he’d show up just to harass me. I drop my backpack on one of the tables and pull out the chair. On a busy day, most of the tables in this room would be filled with tutors and students going over all sorts of subjects. Most of the students would be athletes, but sometimes they’re kids that just need extra help and get referred over to our department. That’s unusual though.

I sit down, check my schedule, and smile. I’m supposed to see a girl on the volleyball team, someone named Molly. But she hasn’t shown up for a single tutoring session yet, so I figure I’m in for an easy couple of hours. I kick my feet up, take out a book, and get reading.

A half hour passes when the door opens and someone steps inside. I look up, wondering if Molly finally showed for the first time, and slowly lower the book down to the table.

Coach David scans the room and stops as his eyes find me. He smiles a little and tilts his head before walking over. The door swings shut behind him.

He stands over my table for a second as I stare up at him. He’s wearing his usual team polo, the blue and white team colors complementing his tan skin and light brown hair. His piercing eyes stare at me and he hesitates in front of a chair. “Busy?” he asks, glancing down at the book.