Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(35)

“Right.”

She still didn’t believe me.

I picked up my pace, leaving her in the dust. Unlike her, I was smart enough not to run with headphones in. If someone pulled over to kidnap her, I’d hear it. There was no sense in slowing down to protect her. She obviously thought she could protect herself.

“Hey wait!” she called, speeding up to catch me. “Now I’m the weirdo following you. Let’s just run together.”

I shook my head. “I run by myself. Ask the Lumineers to keep you company.”

I ran faster.

She caught up, but her breathing was heavy, strained. I glanced over to see her chest rising and falling in her tight tank top. A trickle of sweat slid down her neck and disappeared between her breasts. I whipped my gaze back to the road as my dick stirred in my athletic shorts, not letting me ignore the sight of Brie’s body in tight running clothes.

“I like to run by myself too, but we’re both already out here,” she said. “Jesus, can you just slow down a little bit?”

There was no use in running unless it was a workout. “I only run with people that don’t slow me down.”

“Oh please, you’re practically sprinting to get away from me. Just run like a normal person.”

I slowed down a smidgen, just enough to earn a little smile from her.

“Why do you want to run with your * coach anyway?”

To her credit, a slight brush crept up her neck, overtaking her already flushed face. “I believe in second chances,” she said, sliding her gaze to me with a hint of playfulness. “Or in your case, seventh or eighth chances.”

I grunted. “You deserved what you got yesterday.”

She sighed and then slowly, as if the words were torture for her to say, she continued, “You’re right, I’m sorry. Okay? Bring as many girls home as you want. Far be it from me to try to dictate the terms of your booty calls.”

I smirked but turned away before she could see it. Brie was bluffing and unfortunately for her, she had a shit poker face. I saw the way she looked at me, the stolen glances in the gym, the burn of desire behind her gaze. Reading between the lines of her defiance gave away the extent to which my presence had affected her. Around me she was a ticking time bomb, but then again, she had lit my fuse as well. Toying with Brie was quickly becoming my favorite pastime and a part of me wondered why I was doing it. Yes, she was disrespectful and constantly talked back during practice, but she was hardly the first strong-headed girl in my gym to be guilty of that. No, I was enjoying her punishment a little too much. Most coaches would have ignored the insubordination rather than engaging it, distanced themselves from the problem until it worked itself out peacefully. Most coaches would have stayed safely behind a professional facade, but unfortunately for her, I wasn’t most coaches.





Chapter Fifteen


Brie





I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. In gymnastics, if you’re good, you’re lonely. Sure, in the lower levels, you develop friendships—it’s impossible not to; spending twenty hours a week with the same set of girls pretty much ensures that. The awkward part comes during evaluations. Which girls improved over the course of the year and which ones straggled? Inevitably, some of the team gets bumped up to the next level and some are left behind to perfect their skills and hold on to promises of “next year”.

My friends dwindled more and more each year. It wasn’t hard to get bumped from level 5 to 6, but by the time I was competing at the elite level, my friends were all left on the outside looking in. They practiced at different times. Even the kindest among them couldn’t hide the resentment in their eyes when we happened to cross paths, and truly, I didn’t blame them. At practice, the coaches couldn’t help but favor me, showering me with attention because they saw my true potential.

I was fourteen when I quit school to focus on gymnastics full-time. They had tutors for us at the gym and we still had to take classes and finish a GED, but it wasn’t the same. There was no lunch, no cute boys to distract me in first period, no prom, no parties on the weekends.

I was only twenty, but it felt like I’d lived a thousand lives already. In Texas, my days were long and regimented. There weren’t weekends or vacations. I had a singular goal and my entire life revolved around it. My body was a machine. My hands were callused. My bones had dealt with breaks and sprains and fractures. I knew what it felt like to push myself to my limit and then go ten steps further. I wouldn’t be able to rest until I had that gold medal around my neck. Then, maybe, finally I’d feel like I was worth all my mother’s sacrifices.

“How do you want your omelet?” I asked Molly.

I was in charge of dinner that night and I was sick of the prepared food sitting in the refrigerator. We had a hot plate and a pan, and I was using them.

“Super cheesy, please!” she said, licking her lips.

“I want bacon in mine!” Lexi said.

They were sitting at the table with forks in hand, ready to devour whatever food I dropped in front of them.

I shook my head and dipped forward to rummage around in the fridge. “We have ham, onion, cheese, and spinach.”

“Fine. Extra ham then.”

After I whipped up omelets for my team (save June who nuked a prepared meal with her head down and then carried it up to her room like we didn’t exist), I scanned over the extra ingredients I’d prepared.