Page 29 of Arrogant Puck

I flick my head. Annoyed.

Belinski starts to slide off the table. “It’s fine. I could hear coach from here.”

She sighs and turns toward me, irritation plain on her face.

I walk a few feet toward the corner of the room. Not far. Just enough for privacy.

She follows, clipboard in hand, back straight. Acting like she’s in control.

“Come to my place. Do the eval there.”

She stares at me. “No.”

I raise a brow at her. “Scared of being alone with me?”

“You’re a walking HR violation,” she says.

I smirk. “Only if you report me.”

She steps back. “I’m not coming to your house.”

“I’ll pay you.”

She scoffs. “I don’t want your money.”

I lean in. “Then what’s it gonna take?”

Her eyes flare. Her voice drops into a whisper that slices clean, “You willnevertouch me like that again.”

I blink. Just once.

Then shrug. “Fine.”

I hold out my hand. “Give me your phone.”

“No.”

I don’t move my hand.

She hesitates.

Then she pulls it out, like it costs her something, and hands it over.

I enter my number, address and the time.

“Don’t be late.”

I hand it back and walk off without another word.

I head straight to my car.

Drive home without music. Without noise.

My body’s wired, pain sharpening everything. The hip won’t stop. Every joint feels tight. My jaw’s locked. My teeth ache from clenching.

In the shower, I lean both hands against the tile wall and let the heat hit me. The water isn’t hot enough. Never is.

I stroke myself with the kind of grip that should hurt. Try to drag some kind of release out of the mess in my head.

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