Page 118 of The Coach

I shift, exhaling slowly. I should just let it go. Let the night settle. But the words are already rising up in my throat, and before I can stop myself?—

“Is this what it’s always going to be like?”

Jackson’s fingers still.

His eyes flick to mine, just for a second. “What do you mean?”

I motion vaguely toward the windshield. Toward the city we just left. The fan. The way people stared at him at the diner. The fact that he’s Jackson-freaking-Knox, and I’m just Ivy.

“This,” I say, my voice sharper than I intend. “People stopping you. Looking at you. Asking for pictures. Like you’re not even a real person.”

His brows furrow. “I mean, it’s part of it.”

I let out a breath, crossing my arms. “Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”

Jackson makes a noise low in his throat. A frustrated little laugh. “So, what? That’s a dealbreaker?”

“I don’t know,” I snap. “I just—” I swallow, shaking my head. “I don’t belong in that world.”

He pulls the car over so fast my heart jumps into my throat.

We’re on some quiet street just outside his building, under the cover of the night.

Jackson turns to me, jaw tightening.

“That’s bullshit,” he says. “You belong wherever you want to belong.”

I let out a dry laugh, but it catches in my throat. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re the one everyone?—”

“I don’t give a fuck abouteveryone,” he bites out. “I care about you.You.What’s this really about, Ivy?”

We sit there, breathing hard, staring at each other, hearts pounding.

I hate him because he makes me feel things I don’t know how to handle. Because, all of a sudden, I don’t even understand my own feelings.

I shove him, palms flat against his chest.

Jackson barely moves. Just watches me with those sharp, dark eyes.

“You drive me insane,” I grit out. “Am I really supposed to believe you just…lost my number, but other than that you really, actually did like me. That you didn’t just ghost me out of nowhere.” Tears prick at my eyes but I try to hide them away.

“Yeah.” He leans closer. “That’s right. You don’t really believe me?”

“And what about me? What if I…hateyou? What if that was just supposed to be a one time thing for me?”

I don’t know why I even say it. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism. But I throw my hands up, and he catches my wrists.

And just like that, the air shifts.

His grip isn’t rough. Not at all. But it’s firm enough to send a shiver down my spine.

He tugs me closer—so close I can feel the heat of his body, the way his chest rises and falls.

“Say that again,” he says, voice low and wicked. “Say it, Ivy.”

“I hate…what you did to me. I hated never hearing from you all summer. It wasn’t fair.”

Hateis definitely on my mind right now. I hate how he’s looking at me. I hate how my pulse jumps when his thumb brushes over the inside of my wrist.

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