“It’s fine. You said something now and that’s all that matters.”

Was it?

We said bye to each other one more time and then I was out of there.

Bag over my shoulder, I slowly made my way out, thinking. Had I done the right thing? I wasn’t positive, but what else was I supposed to do? I could painfully go through another five months of tiptoeing around this German dingle-berry, but it was different if I wasn’t the only one being affected by his presence.

The trek back was old and familiar. Down two hallways and head to the elevator. I knew it by memory. I rocked back and forth on my heels as I waited for the elevator.

It was the soft squeak of a foreign pair of tennis shoes on the linoleum floor that had me glancing over. The sound wasn’t anything special in this building; mostly everyone wore tennis shoes unless it was game day or if it was a woman wearing heels. But when I saw a pair of special edition RK running shoes, black with lime-green stitching, my shoulders tensed up.

And I looked.

Of course it was the ass-gobbler I’d just been talking about.

Subconsciously, I started to reach back and make sure my hair was tucked up neatly beneath my headband, but I stopped before I got there. Poop. Plus, what did it matter if my hair was messed up? It shouldn’t.

I cleared my throat when he stopped a yard or so away from me and our eyes met. His eye color was clearer that I’d thought it would be. It was a perfect mix of a honey-brown with a fitting blend of murky green. Bright, sharp and incredibly, unbelievably observant from the weight of the stare it was capable of.

Holy bejesus he was tall. His forearms were big beneath the sky blue training polo he had on. Then I glanced back up at his eyes to see them still locked on me. He was watching me check him out.

Fuck.

Poop, Sal. Poop.

Pee. Stop it. Stopitrightnow.

You dragged him out of a bar and into a hotel room without a single thank you in return. Not even a smile. All you got out of it was a threat.

And suddenly with that, I felt fine.

I swallowed and smiled my sugar-sweet asshole smile, using the only half of my face capable of moving. “Hi,” I said before adding quickly, “Coach.”

That heavy gaze flicked down to the number printed on my chest for a moment before moving its way back up to look at my face. The blink he did was slow and lazy.

I tipped my chin up and blinked right back at him, forcing a smug and closed-mouth smile on my face.

The elevator dinged open as he said in a low tone which sounded like it cost him ten years off his life to use on such a lowly faithless creature like myself, “Hello.”

We looked each other right in the eye for a split second before I raised my eyebrows up and headed inside the small space. I turned to face the doors and watched him follow in after me, taking the spot against the corner furthest away.

Did he say anything else? No.

Did I? No.

I kept my eyes forward, and lived through the most awkward thirty seconds of my life.

* * *

The problem with men, or males in general, that I’d discovered over the course of my life, was that they had huge mouths. I mean a whale shark has nothing on the average man with a couple of friends. Honestly.

But you know, it was my fault. Really, it was. I should have known better.

My dad, brother and his friends had taught me the reality behind male friendships and yet I’d forgotten everything that I’d learned.

So I couldn’t blame anyone else but myself for trusting Gardner.

Already more than halfway through that morning’s practice, I had just finished my own one-on-one game against a defender. I went to take my place away from where the sessions were happening, and I wasn’t really paying attention. I was thinking about what I could have done differently to get the ball into the goal quicker when someone stepped right in the middle of my path.