Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(25)
“Brie,” I said, voice low.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Her head whipped up and a few more strands of brown hair fell out of her braid. I was about to tell her to go home and put a bra on, but I didn’t want to embarrass her or admit I’d been looking. Christ. The whole situation was wrong. It’d been wrong from the very start. I should have spoken up on day one, should have kicked her out the second I walked downstairs, but instead she was in my kitchen, encroaching on my space and pushing me to the brink of self-control.
“What?” she asked, standing back up. “Is it not good?”
Seriously? Was she seriously asking me about f*cking banana bread? Either she was clueless or more innocent than I could have imagined. I shook my head and pushed away from the island. I needed a long run and a night out on the town. I needed a good reminder of what a woman my own age felt like. I didn’t want Brie—she wasn’t even an option. I just wanted to get laid.
“Just have this mess cleaned up before practice,” I said, taking my plate of banana bread and carrying it up the stairs.
“You’re welcome by the way!” she called out after me.
She’d broken into my house, woken me up before my alarm, made a mess of my kitchen, and now she was demanding a f*cking thank you?
It was hard for me to believe she was oblivious to the effect brought about by her body wrapped in that loose tank top. If she wasn’t oblivious—if she knew what she was doing—she was lucky I didn’t call her bluff, push her down onto the dirty counter, and rip that loose material that separated her breasts from my lips. She was probably used to testing her maturity and newfound confidence around hesitant boys closer to her age, but the lesson to be learned was that unlike boys who are intimidated by feminine boldness, men like me are inflamed by it.
I took a deep breath, shook my head, and erased the notion from my mind. Brie was only twenty, and I knew the young gymnast lifestyle didn’t leave much time for her to learn manipulation games like that. More than likely, she wasn’t just oblivious to the effect she had on men.
She had no f*cking clue.
Chapter Eleven
Brie
Bringing armfuls of baked goods back to the guesthouse guaranteed I was officially the MVP of my gymnastics team. Everyone jumped at me like rabid dogs when I pushed through the front door. I even caught an elusive smile on June’s lips when she bit into a warm muffin on her way upstairs, which almost made up for her lack of direct gratitude.
I hadn’t fully thought through my plan when I broke into Erik’s house that morning, and at first he’d seemed less than enthusiastic to see me in his kitchen, but it’d gone better than I expected. He didn’t kick me out right away. He actually tried to have a conversation with me, asked me about my tattoo, and touched my arm as if he didn’t completely despise me. Sure, he could have stayed a little longer before walking away and demanding I clean up the mess, but it’s not like I expected him to become my friend overnight.
I didn’t even dwell on his exit; I focused on what it’d felt like when he’d bent low to inspect my tattoo. His breath had hit my bare skin and I’d shivered, though I don’t think he noticed. I’d glanced down to make sure he couldn’t see my nipples hardening beneath my tank top, and fortunately, the material was loose enough to hide the evidence of what his proximity did to me. It was easier that way, easier to push the sensation aside and chalk it up to the fact that I hadn’t had sex in nearly a year.
All in all, the morning had gone well in my mind. I’d had the chance to bake and after dropping off the baked goods on the kitchen table and changing for practice, I realized I felt calmer than I had in days. I’d made dozens of delicious, perfectly shaped muffins and suddenly, I felt like I had control over my life again. Just as I suspected—carbs were magic.
We headed to the gym and beat Erik there by a few minutes. By the time he joined us, we were warming up for our workout. I tried to catch his eye, to continue our conversation from his kitchen, but he wouldn’t look at me. He stood off to the side of the mat and sipped from a thermos. I walked over, trying to continue the forward momentum we’d started in his kitchen.
“Did you change your opinion after finishing your banana bread?” I asked, hopeful. “Was it the best you’ve ever had?”
He pushed off the wall and brushed past me.
“Time to get to work.”
My smile fell as Lexi shot me a confused glare. Did he just ignore me in front of everyone?
Yes.
Yes he had, and he continued to ignore me through the remainder of practice. It made absolutely no sense. What had crawled up his butt since he’d left the kitchen that morning? When he needed to speak to me, he spoke to the group. “One more routine.” “One more pass.” “Everyone needs to keep their form tighter on their dismounts.”
“Everyone or just Brie?” Molly whispered under her breath.
I shot her a smile as I rechecked my grips.
“Who’s up?” Erik asked, clapping to get our attention.
“Brie,” Lexi volunteered.
He nodded and took a step back. “Let’s go.”
It was as close to a direct order as I’d get from him. I clapped excess chalk off my grips and walked up to take the bars, trying to catch his eyes. He wasn’t watching me. His attention was on the high bar. How can he coach me if he can’t look at me?