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Luz groans, the sound coming out muffled as she buries her face in my chest. “Oh my word. This is next-level cheesy.”
My laughter echoes a bit too eerily in this room. I peel her away from me, enjoying how her face and neck are flushed. “Should we get out of here? I’d like to continue our love declarations in a less musty place.”
“No more love declarations.” She glares. “Ever.”
I grab my bag and am about to open the door when she presses the palms of her hands against my chest and stops me. “Wait, one more kiss.”
“Happy to oblige.” I spread my feet wide so I’m lower, closer to her eye level. Luz’s expression appears intrigued by the concept. I curl my finger at her. “C’mon.”
All too easily, she presses her lips against mine. I sneak my hands under her coat to find her back and trail them down until they find her curves. Luz’s lips pry my mouth open harder, and I squeeze her closer. My reward is a groan from her throat that will haunt me all day.
Not to be outdone, she runs her hands down my chest, stopping to really feel the muscles under my button-down shirt. When she gets to my belt, she pulls away from the kiss. Our stares find each other, unflinching even though we’re both panting like dogs.
She doesn’t remove her hands from my belt. I don’t move mine from her butt.
“You move first,” she says.
“I am physically incapable of moving right now.”
Her lips twitch. Slowly, she takes one step away. And another. As if she’s dealing with a feral raccoon that has just found a full trash can.
Clearing her throat, she says, “Anyway, you did amazing too. You sound like you care about this as much as I do.”
“I do.” My whole body shakes with pent-up desire, but I have to force my heart rate back to normal levels. “It’s your dream.”
Something different shines in her eyes now. “No more love professions, I said.”
Chuckling, I point at her face. “By the way, your lipstick is smeared all over your face. I assume I look the same, right?”
“Yup. I also messed up your hair and your tie.” By the way she grins, she’s as proud of this as she is of acing the Intro to Entrepreneurship project.
After a few minutes of dabbing our faces with wipes from her bag, we’re finally decent enough to rejoin civilization. We walk down the hallways with hooked pinkies until it’s time to go our separate ways. I have to endure one more class and then an exam with the ghost of her kisses tingling on my skin.
Twice during the exam, I have to stop to stare at my hands. Never would’ve pegged myself for a butt man, but Luz’s is spectacular. I have to drop my forehead to the cool surface of the desk to cut through those thoughts and focus back on the test. How I’m going to get through practice later today is a mystery. My body is primed for one thing only, and it is not for dryland training.
For the first time in my life, I stop by the dorm bathrooms to take a cold shower before training. Maybe after practice today, I’ll start planning our next date, pour all my fantasies into that instead of walking around with a tent in my pants all the time.
With that plan, I head over to the training facility with a clearer mind and the plan to steer clear of my girlfriend for a few hours. Maybe this dating in secret thing isn’t so bad after all. Otherwise, I might’ve gotten us in trouble publicly a few times already.
I even whistle when I step inside the front door. Only when I find the men’s locker room to be completely deserted do I realize something’s up.
“Anyone here?” My question echoes around the walls and back to me. I pull my phone from the pocket of my coat and check the time. But I’m not late, like I feared. In fact, I’m ten minutes early. This place should be teeming with guys getting ready to hit the gym.
After I shed all my winter layers, I make my way to the gym and find pandemonium.
Coaching staff from both teams struggle to keep the Strikes and the Bolts away from each other. I recognize Coach Green’s hunched back over someone who’s lying on the floor. I can’t see who, but it’s a Strike going by her clothes. One of her legs is bent at an unnatural angle.
The screaming and insults fade away. I stride forward, fearing that the girl whose season is over is Luz. But I freeze when I find Luz kneeling opposite Coach Green.
The world resumes spinning as she looks up at me. Her face is pale, but she’s not the one who’s injured. The relief that hits me almost makes me crumple. But then I immediately feel like an ass. Someone else’s season just went into the crapper.
“What happened?” No one will care that I sound choked up in these circumstances. I recognize the injured girl. I think her name is JT. One of Luz’s friends.
Her jaw is clenched as she tries to hold back what has to be excruciating pain. But even then, she manages to say, “One of your guys did it.”
“What?” I look around, trying to find who I need to murder. But I don’t even have to go on a whole quest to uncover the culprit when he does it himself.
“It was an accident!” Boucher throws his hands up in the air as if he’s talking about a spilled drink. “I just wanted to get her off the machine so I could use it and?—”
