Page 16 of Sexting the Coach
“You are very clumsy,” he breathes, not stepping back from me, and I realize I can smell his cologne—something a little spicy, black pepper and rosemary. It’s the same smell from football and tug-of-war.
“Earlier wasyourfault,” I whisper back, trying to ignore the way his cologne is infiltrating my senses. “You should have moved out of my way.”
He’s up against me, boxing me into the wall, one of his arms up so he can lean in close, his head tipped down so close to me that less than an inch would have us touching.
I have no idea what I’m doing, but it feelssonice to be near him that it’s like my logical brain leaves my body.
“I think you have a fundamental misunderstanding of football,” he whispers, his eyes darting back and forth between mine, and for a wild, crazy moment, I think that he might kiss me.
But before that can happen, the door to our left slams open, and the worst possible person appears under the golden pooling glow of the light.
“What thefuck,”Karlee asks, her eyes instantly landing on Wolfe, “is going on here?”
Chapter 6
Weston
“What the fuck is going on here?”
Karlee’s voice echoes out into the woods beyond us, loud and angry enough that I’m surprised it didn’t disturb any wildlife. If there are any bears back there, they probably tucked tail and turned the other way.
My career as the Squids head coach might have been short lived, but at least I had fun while I was here. I spring away from Elsie, which only manages to make me look more guilty.
Elsie is, in typical fashion, flushed from head to toe, her brown eyes practically glowing in the overhead light from the lamp on the side of the cabin. Elsie looks gorgeous.
And Karlee looks like she could rip my head clean off my body.
In typical GM fashion, she launches right into a speech about how stupid I’m being, swinging her arms around to illustrate her point as she says, “Are you serious, Wolfe? After everything with Morton, you’re going to dothis? There aresecuritycameras out here that caughtwhateverit is that you’ve been doing.”
Time slows, and not for the first time tonight, I hear myself thinking,What the fuckamI doing?
Why did I follow her out here? Logically, I know that I shouldn’t even be out here, talking to her. Even though I thought talking about the text was the right move, I’m not stupid. Being alone behind the building with her, when I haven’t stopped thinking about that text—abouther, period—was not a smart move.
And now I’m going to pay for it.
Karlee doesn’t wait for me to answer that question. Instead, she takes the three little steps down to the patch of dirt we’re standing in and moves closer to us, her gaze narrowed in on me as she crosses her arms, her windbreaker making aswishingsound as she does.
“Incredibly unprofessional,” she spits, reaching out for Elsie, and I see the flicker of something else there—this isn’t just about me, it’s about the fact that it’s Elsie, too. They know one another, and it’s clear Karlee feels a need to protect her. “Another fucking scandal. Are coaches just incapable of understanding consent, or what? With a girl half your age! I can hear the fucking police sirens. Come on, Elsie, we have to?—”
“We’redating, Karlee,” Elsie says, pushing Karlee’s hand off her arm and stepping closer to me.
What?
I don’t have time to process what she’s just said because she scoots next to me, sliding her hand around my back and tucking herself into my side. I lift my arm automatically, my body willing to do anything to get her close, and we slot together easily.
The result is what must look like a completely natural movement practiced plenty of times by two people who have often touched before.
Karlee is not buying it.
She crosses her arms, popping out a hip and looking us over with shrewd eyes. “You don’t have to protect him, Elsie. I think I would know if the two of you were dating.”
“I’m sorry I kept it from you,” Elsie says, and when I glance down at her, I’m shocked at how believable she is. Right now, her flush and shaking hands seems genuine, rather than a sign that she’s not telling the truth. “But it was so new, and obviously my parents are not going to be thrilled.”
“Ye-ah,” Karlee barks out a laugh, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. Her matching windbreaker set makes noise as she shifts, taking a deep breath and looking up at the sky. “Oh, fuck, your mom is going to kill me.”
“Don’t tell her—just let me handle it,” Elsie says, and I have no idea how she’s gotten Karlee from disbelief to already thinking about the logistics of her parents. Up to this point, I’d assumed that her wearing her emotions on the outside would mean she was easy to read. Maybe not. “Please, Karlee. I know it seems kind of weird, but I’m really happy. This is totally consensual, and we’re not really even at work right now.”
“Doubt HR is going to give a shit about the semantics,” Karlee mutters, but when she opens her mouth to say more, someone from administration throws the door open, their eyes barely registering Elsie and I before landing on Karlee.
