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He looks up when I walk in, shutting the door behind me.
“What, Peters?”
I scowl, already annoyed with his tone. “I’m starting.”
He shuffles a few papers on his desk to the side before he folds his hands behind his head and leans back in his chair. The corded muscles of his biceps flex against the soft white t-shirt. It rises, exposing a sliver of his tanned skin and the thin trail of hair right above his dark sweatpants. “That is why they gave you an athletic scholarship, is it not?”
My stomach hollows, my heart sinking into the void of it. “Are you saying it wasn’t your choice to start me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Stalking forward, I slap my palms onto his desk and lean over it. “Just be straight with me. Was it your choice to start me? Am I–” I swallow, refusing to let him hear the waver in my voice. I cut off from asking him if I’m good enough because I know I am. I’ve been invited to train with the national team, damn it.
Fallon’s eyes darken, his arms dropping to his side as he straightens in his chair. “It would be unwise to not have someone of your caliber-”
Pushing off the desk, I turn and storm toward the door. I don’t know why I have the sudden urge to cry, but I'll be damned if he sees my tears. I know I shouldn’t need the validation that he chose me himself, but I want it. After weeks of doing everything he’s asked of me, I want that small peace of mind that I’ve at least met his expectations.
His hand grabs onto my elbow and he pulls, spinning me towards him and backing me against the wall. His eyes roam over my flushed face, taking in the unshed tears sitting in my lashes.
“What’s wrong?”
I pull my arm out of his grasp, wiping away the water before it can stream down my face. “Nothing.”
The heat of his body nearly pressing against mine makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I’ve gotten used to the sly brushes of his fingers on my skin while we train in the gym. But this is different, there’s a charged tension in the air with us standing so close without a valid reason.
“Sage. You had every Division One college begging to have you attend. It should not come as a surprise.” His whispered words should comfort me, but they don’t.
I focus my attention on the dip of his throat, not daring to look up because I’m afraid I will tear up again. “You threatened to keep me on the bench.”
My breath hitches when his thumb swipes across my cheek, his hand palming my jaw before tilting my head back. His green eyes are bright, searching for something as they peer into mine. “You had grown complacent. There is always room for growth and I know you’ve felt the difference since we started.”
“So you were mean to make me work harder?”
Fallon’s eyebrows furrow. “I pushed you to be better.”
My eyes catch on the small swipe of his tongue on his bottom lip. His grip on my face tightens like he knows what I’m thinking about. I look back up at him, and it’s his usual cold eyes, stormy with conflict, that breaks my resolve.
Grabbing onto his wrist, I rise on my tiptoes and press my mouth to his. He tenses for a second before his hand slides to the back of my head, tangling into my hair and pulling me closer. Our kiss deepens as I moan into his mouth, his citrus scent invading and heating my blood. My core throbs with arousal as I feel his hand squeezing my waist. I wrap my leg around his hip without thinking, and he cups my ass, squeezing my cheek before pushing into me more. The heat of his hard erection between my legs begs me to touch it. I let go of his wrist, but the first brush of my fingers on his bare skin under his shirt has him tensing.
He breaks away, the horror of what we did paling his face as he backs to his desk. Fallon drags a palm across his mouth, and I tear my gaze away. I know he isn’t wiping away my kiss, more like he’s confirming it really happened, but it still stings. I stand there, panting to catch my breath as something in my chest breaks.
“Peters…”
I scowl, missing the knob of the door as I try to leave in a hurry. Him reverting to calling me by my last name hurts more than anything else.
“Wait, Sage–”
Finally getting it open, I slam the door behind me, grab my bag sitting on the floor and take off to the parking lot. I don’t know how I’ve gone from thinking of Fallon Harris as my annoying coach to throwing myself at him, but my tears are back and the embarrassment of what I’ve done burns my cheeks as they fall. At least I have the weekend to recover from it.
Chapter Eleven
Fallon
I barely make it till midday Saturday before I give in. I have no way of contacting Sage, unless I access the school records for her information. So for the first time in two years, I log into Instagram, one of the most annoying social media apps that I swear are the downfall of personal boundaries. Without bothering to look at my own notifications, I immediately type in Sage’s name to see if she has a profile.
Multiple Sage Peters come up, but none that I recognize. A smile graces my face when I stumble across a fan page that has been following her water polo career. I wonder if she knows she has one, considering she hasn’t competed nationally yet.
After coming up empty, I finally move to looking through the school’s team account and strike luck at finding Emily’s account.I know they’re close, and I breathe out a quick huff of relief when her page isn’t private.
