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He's all up in my business.
“You seem preoccupied,” he says, sounding annoyed.
“I'm fine,” I snap back, feeling my phone buzz again.
I immediately pull it out, checking my notifications.
His jaw tightens, and he shakes his head next to me.
I don't understand what his problem is. I'm here, aren't I? This wasn't a requirement for my job. It's not like we're working on stretches or new strength training exercises out here on the sidelines. I'm not getting paid to be here. Don't get me wrong, I'm so honored and so appreciative to even be a part of this, the foot in the door thing, but for him to think he has control over any part of my real life, my life back home with Colin…well, he's got a surprise coming.
“If your plan is to fuck around with Beckham or any of the other players, just make sure to keep it quiet,” he grumbles, staring off at the field. “I don't need my therapist getting fired because she couldn't keep her legs crossed.”
My eyes widen at his comment, and my mouth drops open at the mere suggestion that I'm here simply to sleep with the players. Is he crazy? Is that what they think of me? And Beckham?! Where the fuck did that come from? The comment pierces through my chest, affecting me more than I'd like.
I turn with a mouthful, ready to set him straight, only to see him already hobbling towards some of the other guys.
This disgusting urge to cry comes over me as I push air through my nose, glaring at the back of his head. He’s already shaking up with someone, a smile on his face, but I grind my back teeth together and hold it all in. I've never wanted to be home more. I hate feeling small in the presence of him. It's not who I am. I'm doing my best. Trying my hardest to make it all work—the career, my finances, Colin's care. But comments like that really break me to my core.
I don't know what Lake's problem is, but there's one thing I know for sure.
He will have to get used to being second for once in his privileged life, or I'm fucking done.
20
Dylan
Closingthedoortothe hotel room, I rip my ponytail out and toss my hat into the corner, resting my forehead against the smooth surface of the back of the door.
What a whirlwind of a day. From enjoying getting to know the team at lunch, feeling a genuine sense of belonging, to forcing myself to leave the game because my toxic-ass client loves to find any way he can to get under my skin.
I left the field at halftime, and I highly doubt Lake even knows I’m gone. After the rude comment about keeping my legs crossed, he went off and mingled with his teammates and friends, never once checking in with me or even sparing a look in my direction.
I didn't care. After that, I was done. Thoughts came together for me in my head. Pieces falling into place. I'd come this far on my own. Who's to say I couldn't do it without Lake? This job was just that. A job. It wasn't worth me missing calls from Colin or having to put some egotistical, misogynistic celebrity first before my family or myself. I could figure out another way.
So I left.
Now here I am, rolling my forehead along the hotel door until the back of my head rests on it. I slide the rest of the way down the door until my knees buckle and my legs shoot out onto the floor.
I called Colin immediately after leaving so I could talk to him about his first day back. According to him, I worry too much, and everything was really, really good. He and Byron talked about the new Tesla Model S during their downtime, and apparently there weren't any customers giving him a hard time over bagging. He was back home in his chair, surrounded by his happy color—his sunshine, as he always says—watching the 2003 Carolina Dodge Dealers 400, which I knew had one of the closest finishes in all of racing.
It gave me tremendous relief to know he was safe and happy and that Katia was taking such good care of him until I could get back home tomorrow. I felt like I could finally breathe a little since boarding that plane and leaving town.
Until I thought about the body of water drowning me. Lake.
I need to rid myself of his presence. Erase him from my mind. So I peel myself off of the floor, and to the shower I go to scrub away the day.
With the scalding water beating down on me, I take that hotel soap and white-squared towel and go to town on my skin as if it did me wrong.
I scrub as I think about his strange protective tendencies, exfoliate until it burns as I remember his hold on that chair behind me, tear into my arms and shoulders as I see that sweet, kind-hearted grin on his face as Clark walked me away.
I want to erase that feeling on my skin only he could produce. The awareness that my body has become used to in his presence. I want it gone. Because why should it be there? He’s a dick.
Red and overly clean, I hop into a light tank top and my silk nighty shorts. I’m ready for a night alone with just me and the brothers of Bearback Mountain. Fuck the real world. I'm getting lost in my fiction tonight.
The scene I'm coming up on is one of my favorites. The young, naïve main character, Mara, was finally finding her strength on that mountain, about to confront the eldest brother, Cagen, about his true feelings for her. She forces him to face his emotions, the scene, an epic, drama-filled moment that ends in the hottest, most passionate sex. There’s nothing like a seemingly weak girl finding her strength and putting an overly confident and cocky man in his place.
Funny how I can relate.
