Page 46 of Sexting the Coach
In the third period, our energy just continues to grow, but the Crabs get better too, each team rising to the level of its opponent. The crowd is electric, and with two minutes left on the clock, I can’t stop myself—I turn and look up at the spot I know Elsie will occupy.
She’s already staring back at me, her hands together in a clap, pink rushing over her cheeks when our eyes meet.
I turn my attention back to the ice. The Crabs score, finally getting past Proctor. Score is tied, each of us with one goal. I’ve been swapping lines quick to try and keep the Crabs on their heels, and now I pull O’Connell to the side just before I put the first line back on the ice.
“Go for it,” I say, meeting his eyes. “Make the play, man.”
A coach said that to me once, early in my career, and the sound of it made my blood fizz with potential. I see that same thing flash over O’Connell’s expression now, and when I let go of his jersey, he vaults over the boards with the rest of the guys, jumping out onto the ice and flying into the game full throttle.
He makes the play, bringing us up one in the last thirty seconds. The cheering is deafening, and when the game is over I turn, surprised to find Elsie standing next to me, looking up at me with a strange expression.
“I guess PR really liked it when we did this last time,” she whispers, biting her bottom lip for a moment before letting it go. “Sorry—hug?”
I swallow as the celebration continues on around us. I want to do a lot more than hug her.
But I nod and reach down, sliding my arms around her, pulling her up and against my body, breathing in her scent, until the world around us goes completely and totally quiet.
Chapter 19
Elsie
The squeals coming from Hattie and Mabel through the phone are loud enough to break glass. Luckily, the mirror in the fancy hotel bathroom stays intact, because I can’t deal with that kind of bad luck tonight. Especially not with how weird things have been between Weston and me.
“You lookhot!” Hattie says, getting close enough that I can see straight up her nostril. “I knew that red was a good look on you!”
“It doesn’t wash me out?”
“You know it doesn’t,” Mabel teases, grabbing Hattie and pulling her back so I can see both of them again. “You called for compliments, let us give them to you.”
I laugh, then glance at myself in the mirror—she’s right. It took me two hours to get ready, but my hair is perfectly curled, this red dress hugs me like a dream, and I’m wearing the fancy perfume my mom got me as a graduation gift.
After weeks of wearing nothing but scrubs and polos, I feel like a person again.
I end the call with my roommates and walk out of the bathroom, watching as Weston pushes up off the wall, his eyes landing on me, traveling up and down my body once, twice.
It’s been two nights since I came around his fingers in his bedroom, and things have continued to be weird. Other than our training session—and that weirdly intimate hug after the game last night—we haven’t really seen each other. He gave me a little key ring to his place—with a scanner fob and a real key—alone with the code to get in, so I could come and go as I pleased.
And at night, though I fantasize about him coming to my room, he hasn’t.
“Everything okay?” Weston asks when I arrive at his side. I nod and tuck my hand into his, almost wishing we weren’t keeping up this fake dating ruse.
Because it means I’m going to have to walk around with him all night, smelling his cologne and seeing how handsome he is in his suit, and I’m not going to get to do anything about it tonight.
The moment we walk back into the ballroom, we’re intercepted by a regal looking woman with a long neck and perfectly straight black hair.
“Weston,” she says, holding a champagne glass loosely in her hand. “Thank you for coming—I’m assuming we’re still on for the auction?”
“Sure thing,” he says, then glances at me, “Gigi, this is my girlfriend, Elsie.”
“Pleasure,” she says, reaching out her hand to me, and I’m not quite sure what to do, so I wrap my fingers around hers and shake her hand. If Mabel was here, she’d laugh at me.
“You, too,” I say, because what do you say topleasure? I’m thankful when she walks away, because I don’t know how to talk old Hollywood, and Weston starts laughing the moment we’re out of earshot. “Oh, ha-ha,” I mutter, pushing against his arm.
“It’s not you,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Gigi is just…”
“Extra?” I supply, raising an eyebrow, which makes him laugh again. I ignore his chuckling and ask, “What are you buying at the auction?”
He sobers slightly, grinning at me, “Guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”
