Page 99 of Spin The Bottle
He lifts off his chair, rounding the table. “Focus on your studies,” he says, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and pouring it into his mug. “Keep up with your school work.”
“But if I’m not playing, then what happens to my scholarship?”
He takes a sip of the rank drink I can smell a mile away. “I’m not going to make any drastic changes at the moment.” My shoulders drop. Thank God. “But we’ll test you again, and if the test comes back positive a second time,” he shakes his head, “I’m sorry, son, but you won’t be on the team.”
“Which means no scholarship.” No future. No life. No Leila.
“I believed in you, Aiden.” He places his mug behind him. “I still do. I know it’s a lot of pressure to be under but this is not the answer.”
“I didn’t take stimulants,” I assure him. “I would never touch them.”
He crosses his arms, assessing me. “But you can’t prove it?”
I throw my hands up, gesturing to the piece of paper that holds my future. “If my piss says the opposite, then no.”
He nods, grabbing his mug again. “Come back in three weeks and we’ll test you again.” He takes a sip, shaking his head. “That’s the best I can do.”
I nod. Three weeks. “Thank you.” I swallow. “For not taking the scholarship away.”
He raises his brows. “This is the last time it will happen.”
“I understand, Coach.”
He gestures behind me, sitting back down at his desk. “Close the door on your way out.”
I leave his office, walking into the locker room to find it empty. I pick up my gym bag from the floor, stuffing it in the locker and walk out. No more practice, no more game, no more team for at least two weeks.
When my phone buzzes I relax, thinking it’s Leila. I’d love a text from her, a picture, even one letter. Doesn’t matter.
But it’s not Leila.
Unknown:
Don’t be so surprised. The apple doesn’t fall far from the fucked-up family tree.
My heart races, threatening to beat right out of my chest. This guy did this?
Unknown:
I warned you.
End it or I end you.
36
You are worth everything
Knocking on the door is a thing of the past for Aiden.
He doesn’t even hesitate before his arms wrap around my waist from behind, placing his chin on my shoulder. I jump, looking behind my shoulder at him. “You scared me,” I breathe, my heart racing.
His eyes widen when he looks down at the pot in my hand. “You’re cooking?”
I turn back around, letting out a laugh. “I already told you I can cook.”
His hands span the width of my belly, running his hands all over me. I used to hate touching my own stomach, every time my hands touched my skin it would find another thing to hate, to psychoanalyze over, but when Aiden does it, he isn’t examining every roll and curve, he just can’t stop touching me.
His lips press against my shoulder. “What are you making?”
