Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(2)



Shit.

I exited out of the page so fast I nearly broke the mouse, and then I stared at the blank computer screen, trying to slow my heart. When I blinked, I could still see the remnants of his face burned into my vision. His appearance was shocking, unnerving. I tried to shake away the feeling, repositioning myself on the chair and adjusting my towel.

Igor had explained that I needed to book a ticket for Seattle, that I would be leaving in two weeks to train with Erik, but after seeing him, I wanted to protest. Surely they’d made the wrong choice. He was too young, too handsome, too much.

Voices outside the apartment window drew me out of my thoughts and I loosened the fist I had clenched in my lap.

What does it matter that Erik looks like that? A coach was a coach, and if the Gymnastics Association had picked him to take over for his dad, then I’d trust them.

As if to further drive home that point, I had an email waiting for me in my inbox from a representative of the Association. There was an information packet attached that was generic and short. It outlined where we would be training in Seattle and what kind of accommodations Erik would have for us. I skimmed through the packet briefly; the only detail I paid close attention to was the date and time I was supposed to arrive in Seattle.

June 29th at 2:00 PM.

I looked up flights to Seattle-Tacoma, and the only options that fit the itinerary were completely out of my budget. Way, way out of my budget. My only option was to book the earliest, cheapest flight of the day, which would put me in Seattle at 8:30 AM. I booked the early flight and then clicked the hyperlinked email address I’d found in the information packet. My hands shook as I typed, though I tried to convince myself they didn’t. This would be my first interaction with my new coach and for some reason, I wanted to come across as mature and confident. I wanted to impress him.



To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Early Arrival



Hello,



My name is Brie Watson and I look forward to training with you this summer. I’ve just received word about your dad and I’m very sorry to hear he is sick. I’ve only had the honor of working with him a few times, but he is a wonderful coach. I’ll keep him in my thoughts, as well as you and your family.



I know you must have a lot on your plate, but I just read the information packet and saw that I am scheduled to arrive at 2:00 PM on the 29th. Unfortunately, the only flights still available are in the morning, so I will be arriving to your house earlier than expected, around 9:00 AM. I hope that’s not too much of a problem.



Looking forward to working with you,

Brie





Chapter One


Erik





I woke up ten minutes before my alarm was set to go off. 8:20 AM—early, and yet I felt like I was running late as I tossed the blanket aside and stood to stretch. My head pounded. The fourth beer at the bar the night before had been a mistake; the shots had been plain stupid. I could blame it all on the girl sleeping in my bed—the brunette beauty I’d met at the bar. She was wild, loud, and drunk, shoving drinks in front of me like she was hoping to take advantage of the situation. I’d let her; I’d gone to the bar to get drunk so I could escape the anxiety mounting inside. The girl sleeping on the opposite side of my bed had proved a good distraction—a loud distraction.

She’d been at the bar to celebrate her birthday. Or had it been her bachelorette party? I blinked and wiped away sleep from my eyes just before my gaze landed on the crinkled sash lying on the ground beside her dress. She’d worn it the entire night, and when I reached down to pick it up, I sighed. BIRTHDAY QUEEN.

I dropped the sash back onto her dress and cleared my throat, hoping she’d stir in her sleep. Nothing. The sheet barely covered her naked body, and while I could appreciate her supple curves and the fact that her breasts were nearly spilling out from the top of the sheet, I wasn’t looking for round two. I walked closer and patted her shoulder.

“Hey…” I realized I didn’t know her name. “Birthday Queen, wake up.”

Still nothing. If anything, she fell deeper into sleep. Christ. I turned and headed for the bathroom, purposely leaving the door open as I brushed my teeth and ran the faucet. I splashed water on my face and tried to will my headache away. You’re not hungover. You didn’t drink too much last night.

I made as much noise as possible as I got ready for the day, but by the time I’d finished, she still hadn’t moved.

Fuck it.

I headed down to the kitchen for coffee, too tired and hungover to worry about her. The newspaper from the day before was still sitting on the island where I’d left it untouched. The paper had hand-delivered it, ensuring I saw my name and photo splashed across the front page. It was just a local Seattle paper—hardly the New York Times—but it was intimidating.



New Winter for Summer Games

Gymnastics giant steps down during health scare, son vaults into top job



I turned my back to it as I reached for my old coffee grinder. It chopped beans just fine, but it sounded like a spaceship with a blown muffler. I let it run for a few seconds longer than necessary, nearly blowing out my eardrums in the process, and then I listened for any sort of stirring from upstairs. Nada. I should have checked her pulse.

R.S. Grey's Books