Page 8 of Topping the Jock
Instantly, I was transported back to my teenaged years of being shoved against lockers, called names, and thrown in the dumpster.
“No,” I found myself saying as I shook my head. Monty fucking Adams couldnotbe here… at my damn workplace. In my space. “No,” I repeated. It had to be a dream. A freaking nightmare.
“Surprised to see me, huh?” Monty said once in front of me. I had to tilt my head up to meet his brown-eyed gaze. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.”
“How could I forget?” I asked dryly before turning from him and continuing down the hall.
“Hey, wait up!”
I kept walking.
“Specks!”
I flipped around. “Stop calling me that.”
His grin widened. “Sorry.”
“You look sorry.” My sarcasm was a force to be reckoned with. I had spent a good portion of my school years being tormented by this meathead jock, and the last thing I wanted was for him to swoop in and screw up my life. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m the new football coach,” he responded.
“No,” I said again, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“You okay? Do you have a headache?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Oh, definitely. A major one.”
Finally, my behavior seemed to register in that thick head of his. “Wait… are you still pissed about high school? That was like a million years ago.”
“Maybe for you,” I snapped. “I have a damn good memory and remember all too well the stuff you did.”
“I really am sorry for that,” Monty said, rubbing the back of his head. “I was an asshole back then.”
“Well, at least we can agree on that much.” I turned my back to him and kept going toward the storage room.
You’d think the floor had insulted my momma by how hard I stomped as I walked away from Monty. Out of all the people in the world, whydidhehave to be the one to take the job at the school? Unacceptable.
“Quinn,” he called after me, his footsteps closing in on me.
Reaching the storage room, I unlocked the door and walked inside. It was dusty and cramped, and I realized my mistake a moment too late when Monty came in behind me. Now he was between me and the door. Anxiety spiked and my throat got tight. I hated the feeling of being trapped. Especially with him of all people.
“Look,” he said, grabbing my arm. “I know—”
“Don’t touch me.” I yanked out of his grip.
He put his hands up. “Okay, keepin’ my hands to myself. I just want you to know how sorry I am for what I did when we were kids. If I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat. I know it’s not an excuse, but back then I didn’t think I was bullying you that bad. It was just good fun for me and my buddies, and—”
“Wow, you suck at apologies,” I interjected. “Yourgood funmade my high school years hell. And now in some sick twist of fate, here you are again.”
Monty’s face fell. “I hoped we could put the past behind us.”
“Word of advice?” I stepped toward him. “Stay out of my way. Just because we work together now doesn’t mean we have to be friends.”
“Harsh.”
That close, I felt his body heat. Smelled a trace of his cologne.
And for a moment, I recalled that day in the locker room. I remembered the sound of his grunts as he drove into Tyler. I remembered how our eyes had connected. I hated Monty with every cell in my body, yet my attraction to him remained strong.
