Page 83 of Wildcat
Tiffany Ryan, not her real name, stands. There’s no need to stand other than she wants all eyes on her. I squirm. Tiffany is the reporter from camp who scoped me out during an interview. You know, the one everyone thinks I slept with because I was staring down—NOT at her tits. I knew it was only a matter of time before I ran into her again.
I have prepared for this moment.Do not look anywhere but at her face. Do NOT look anywhere but at her face.I repeat it over and over in my head.
“Leo, you appeared distracted tonight.” She pauses to give me time to respond, but like Blythe taught me, I stay silent until she asks an actual question. She’s fishing right now, and I’m not taking the bait.
Her dark red lips pull into a devious smile. “Is your new relationship with Coach Miller’s daughter causing tension between you and the rest of the team?”
“My relationship with…” I gulp, look at Coach, then Ash and Jack, like they might be able to bail me out, then back to Tiffany.
“Scarlett Miller.” Her brows furrow in fake confusion. She holds up a phone, and even from eight feet, I can tell it’s her. “This isn’t you and Scarlett Miller at a photo exhibit earlier this week?”
“We’re friends,” I say confidently. Fuck, it’s hot in here. “And no, it has not caused tension between the team and me.” At least not until this moment. “Tonight Tampa came ready to play, and we didn’t.”
Her gaze flicks back to the phone. “Just friends?”
I nod. A small dip of my chin that feels like a wrecking ball. Yeah, yeah, we look like more than friends. Wearemore than friends, but this isn’t exactly the time or place to announce it. Dammit, Tiffany.
“Next question,” Coach asks, with a side-eye in my direction.
I don’t hear anything after that, thanks to the ringing in my ears. Oh fuck, this isn’t good. Did I really call Scarlett my friend in front of... I count the number of cameras aimed at the front of the room and feel like throwing up.
As soon as the press conference is over, I bolt.
“Slow your roll, Lohan.” Jack presses a hand to my chest. He juts his chin behind me. Right, Coach. Fuck. I don’t know which conversation I’m dreading more.
We file out into the hallway, and I wait for Coach to catch up. Head lowered and voice quiet, he says, “Be in my office tomorrow at eight. We’ll talk about the photo then.”
“Coach, I’m—”
He holds up his hand like he physically can’t handle me saying one more word. “Tomorrow. First thing.”
In the locker room, Ash is sitting at his stall next to mine.
“And the award for the first scandal of the season goes to…” He holds out both hands in my direction dramatically.
“Damn.” I drop onto the bench. “I really fucked this up.”
“What’d Coach say?”
“Nothing. He told me to be in his office first thing tomorrow.”
He inhales sharply, teeth clenched so that it makes a whistling noise.
I pull my phone from my pocket. I have texts and voicemails from everyone but the person I was hoping.
“What the hell am I going to say to her?”
“You mean to yourfriend, Scarlett?”
“We were supposed to tell her dad together. I froze. I didn’t know what to say.” I fumble through excuses, and they all suck.
The look Ash gives me tells me as much.
I shove everything in my bag as fast as I can. “I gotta go. Text you later.”
“Good luck, buddy.”
I head out to my car and text Scarlett to find out where she is. I don’t know if she’s seen the interview yet, but I know it won’t be long if she hasn’t.
