Page 42 of Thunderstruck
I want to tell her what Coach told me. I need someone else to know why I’m so agitated. But I can’t tell her. I can’t let anyone know what might happen. “I’m fine.”
“You can tell me—”
“This is something that needs to stay a secret.” I wince as soon as the words leave my mouth. The hurt from my comment is clear as day in her eyes. “Carissa, I—”
“I get it. I talk too much, and I’ve already spilled one big secret, so there’s no reason for you to trust me.”
I swear under my breath, glancing toward the tunnel to make sure none of the guys are heading out yet. The last thing I need is them thinking I’ve hurt their new favorite person, even if it’s true. “I trust you,” I say, my voice strained.
Carissa purses her lips. “But not enough.”
I need to get my phone. But doing that requires entering the locker room, and I’m sure Moxie will be waiting for me now that I’ve delayed hitting the showers. How can Coach think about replacing him? Withme? Moxie actually cares about the guys on his team, beyond the pitch, and I…
I’m too good at putting distance between me and everyone I interact with. It’s a defense mechanism, but not for me. For them. The closer people get to me, the more danger they’re in.
“I don’t need a ride today,” I say, shifting so there’s more space between Carissa and me. “You’re welcome to head out.”
She doesn’t move. “Cole, you were fine twenty minutes ago. What happened? Did the coach say something to you?”
The fact that she was paying enough attention to me to know I was in a good mood,andto know Coach pulled me aside, does something to my insides. I’m so used to the team ignoring me that it feels strange to get positive attention from someone who isn’t one of my close friends or my family. My resolve slips.
“I’ll tell you,” I say, clenching my hands into fists. My words mirror hers from last night. “But not here.”
“Where?”
“Can you get my things for me?” I could probably leave my stuff, but it’s my phone that I can’t bring myself to leave behind. Something tells me I’m going to need Freya’s pragmatism, and it gets harder and harder to find time to video chat with her the closer she gets to her election to become queen. I need to be able to text her.
Glancing back toward the tunnel, Carissa lifts her eyebrows. “From the locker room?”
I curse under my breath. That’s a terrible idea. “Never mind.” I’ll send Freya an email.
“No, I don’t mind.” Carissa hands me her bag, but I grab her elbow.
“Imind.” Some of the guys don’t bother with things like towels half the time, and there’s no way I’m letting someone like Carissa subject herself to sights no one should have to see.
Carissa giggles, her nose wrinkling adorably. “What if I close my eyes?”
“Let’s just go.”
“No, now I’m curious.” And she slips free of my hold before I can stop her, jogging to the tunnel and disappearing.
“Curious?” I repeat in horror. If not for the overwhelming fear that I’ll run into Moxie and let slip Coach’s ridiculous idea, I’d chase after herand physically bar her from entering the locker room. Instead, I stand in the evening sun, silently praying that the guys have an ounce of modesty when in the presence of a lady.
By the time Carissa returns with my duffel weighing her down, I’ve run my hands through my hair so many times that it’s probably sticking straight up, but I don’t care. “You don’t look traumatized,” I say, maybe too hopefully. I grab my bag before it pulls her off balance. I don’t remember what’s in here, but she’s far too small to have carried it all the way out here.
“You make it look like it weighs nothing!” she says, ignoring my comment.
I’m going to push the issue. “Please tell me everyone was fully dressed.”
“Are all rugby players made of pure muscle like you?”
“Carissa.”
She snickers, but crimson lights up her cheeks. “They covered up as soon as I walked in. But you also have to remember that I’m up close in people’s business regularly, so I’m not really fazed by the human body.”
“I’m not worried about the human body. I’m worried aboutmen’sbodies. Those ones, specifically.” It shouldn’t bother me this much. Carissa can look at whatever she wants, and if she says a naked man doesn’t faze her, then… My stomach twists. It still bothers me.
This had better not be jealousy.
