Page 13 of Resilient Love

I fight the shiver working its way through me but can’t help clenching my thighs together as he grows nearer. He crooks a finger at me and motions with his chin for me to meet him by the centre line.

I turn back around to face my friends, my brows climbing my forehead. “I guess that’s my cue. Wish me luck, ladies,” I tell them, getting up and taking my sweet ass time to make it over to Rafael.

Just by the way he shifts in place, rolling his shoulders back and crossing his arms over his chest, I can tell that he’s fully aware of what I’m doing. Over the last two weeks, I’ve grown to crave the looks of annoyance I earn from him. I don’t have a good explanation for it, but it’s almost like chasing a high without the consequence because ever since that first night at the club, he’s been doing his absolute damndest to avoid speaking to me.

“Hey, Coach,” I say, smiling brightly and fluttering my lashes when I’m about two feet in front of him.

“Cut the bullshit, Elise,” he grunts, rolling his eyes. Goddamn, this guy hasquitethe chip on his shoulder.

I level him with a stare, waiting to speak until I feel physically uncomfortable under his scrutinising gaze. “Alright, Rafael, you want me to cut the shit? Let’s do it then. Clearly, you never wanted your position as our coach, and I’m not a huge fan of being an adult with a babysitter. That said, my chances of joining the Olympic team for twenty twenty-eight are dwindling with every day that my team doesn’t trust you. So, let’s get this dayover with, play nice, and in a few short months, we’ll be a blip on your radar.”

When he first arrived, everyone kept it pushing the same way we always had, but with every grimace and grunt, it was effectively out of my hands as to whether my teammates like him or not. I don’t blame them. He’s been a complete jackass at every practice. When we do something he approves of, we get a nod.A bloody nod!As if we can even see that while in active play. When he doesn't like something, he shoots daggers at us but doesn't speak up. It's infuriating. Maybethatis why I make a point to get on his nerves. Because hedeservesit.

A sly grin spreads his lips. He lets his arms fall to his sides as he nods, passing me. “Sounds good.” Over his shoulder, he calls to me, “Oh, and princess? There won’t be anything nice about how I plan to play with you.”

My eyes widen, and my heart starts to pound at the insinuation. The grumpy asshole has jokes now, huh?

He stands in the middle of the field, clapping to get everyone’s attention. When all eyes are on him, he starts discussing the plans we went over via email the other night.

“We’ve got a field day set up today. There’ll be six activities, and you’ll each be partnered up, one footballer to one rugger. At the end of the day, whichever team has won the most points will get to choose which sport we all play a round of. Anyone have any questions?”

I smirk because, of course, every rugby player on the field raises their hand while my teammates roll their eyes. Nowthisis on brand for us.

He claps his big hands together one time, wearing a lopsided smirk that deliciously twists my insides.That certainly shouldn’t be happening. “Alright, then, I’m glad no one has any questions,” he says, and it annoys me that he has a sense of humour on occasion. He entirely ignores his team and theirraised hands. At least he’s this crass with everyone and not just us.

Rafael starts calling out pairs, working his way down the list. “Letty and Jelani, Chelsea and Nakoa.” His eyes lift to mine. “Elise, you’re with me.”

Everyone goes silent as their eyes flit between us, and the longer the awkward silence carries on, the more I squirm.

“Great!” I shout, my voice too high-pitched given the circumstances. “Tug-of-war first!”

I wave everyone down to the first station, where there’s a rope in the middle of the turf with a pink ribbon tied, indicating the centre. “I assume you all know how to play. It’ll be one pair on either side, and whoever wins each round will get a point.”

They all nod, splitting off into their designated pairs, lining up on either end of the rope, awaiting their turn.

Rafael nudges his chin toward one end, and I follow, desperately wanting to go in the opposite direction just to spite him, but I realise how incredibly childish that is, so I refrain. I have no idea what it is about him that makes me want to defy him at every turn. I don’t have a superiority complex. I’ve never struggled to listen to any of my coaches before, and in general, I’m capable of respecting authority, but there’s something about this grumpy-ass, smug man that annoys me beyond measure.

We’re at the back of the line, standing side by side, and when the whistle blows for Chelsea, Nakoa, Adhira, and Carson to start, a thrill rushes through everyone watching.

At our core, we’re athletes, and that means we get rowdy foranyandeveryoccasion.

Carson and Adhira start tugging on the rope, digging their heels into the turf. How the hell did we get the school to agree to this shit? It absolutely shocks me when I see the little pink ribbon starting to edge closer to their side, but the moment my eyes land on Nakoa and Chelsea, understanding fully settles in.

A wide smirk stretches my lips, and warmth spreads in my belly, laughter bubbling up my throat, but I push it back down. I feel Rafael’s knuckles accidentally graze the back of my hand, and sparks shoot up my arm. Nope, not sparks.Definitely notbloody sparks.He probably zapped me. He should rub his prickly arse down with a dryer sheet.

My gaze meets his, and those near-black eyes threaten to consume me. My throat grows dry. “What’s so funny?” he mutters, quirking a brow at me.

I nod toward where Chelsea and Nakoa are standing, making littlerealeffort to win. I can tell that’s the case based on the way Chelsea winks at Carson, aiming to distract the poor bloke while Nakoa pretends to use all of his strength. Meanwhile, his muscles are as relaxed as they were before that whistle went off.

“Sneaky bastards,” I whisper with a chuckle, hoping I don’t have to give away their antics. Coach is a big boy, he’ll catch on.

Rafael’s gaze follows their every move, his dark brows furrowing, a flicker of tension crossing his face. He doesn’t look away, his eyes locking onto mine again, intense and searching. “Are they?” He doesn't finish his sentence as I nod, grunting my answer.

Adhira’s forehead drips with sweat, her deltoids twitching as she tires out. Carson looks slightly less fatigued, but he’s still drenched in sweat as he digs his cleats into the ground, effectively using up all of his energy.

Everyone is shouting, clapping, hollering for their pick. The moment that pink ribbon is an inch from the designated cone on Adhira and Carson’s side, Chelsea’s bright-blue eyes meet Nakoa’s, and with a curt nod, they tighten their grip on the rope. Their muscles flex; one swift tug and they pull the pink ribbon, along with Adhira and Carson, completely across to their side. The losing pair fall to the ground in a heap, Carson landing on top of Adhira, one of his hands meeting her tit as he scramblesto get off of her. He yelps, pushing himself up, and frantically shouts his apology. “Sorry! Sorry! Don’t bloody kill me, I’msosorry! It was an accident!”

Adhira rolls her eyes at him, standing and wiping her palms off on her shorts. Her eyes search for our roommate, landing on averysmug-looking Chelsea. Adhira points two fingers at her own eyes and then at Chelsea as she says, “You better sleep with one eye open, bitch.” Her lips twitch, but she somehow manages to keep the serious expression on her face.

---