Kickin' It (Red Card #2)(35)

Everything?

I gulped down half my drink. “Where do you want me to start?”

“At the beginning, where most stories typically start. I think I already know how things ended . . .”

“Things.” I snorted and looked down at my shaking hands. Matt took the drink from me and grabbed them, encompassing them with his warmth as he scooted his barstool closer.

The hotel room was filled with that static silence that buzzed around a person’s ears and made them want to shiver a bit with the emptiness. I choked back a sob as I finally met Matt’s eyes and started my story. “Everyone loved him, the coaching staff respected him, my teammates all but worshipped him. We always used to joke about how hot he was.” I shuddered. “Lots of the girls even said they’d paid for private training, which just made us roll our eyes, but it was all speculation. He was a flirt and charismatic.”

“He’s a douche,” Matt said in a cold voice.

“Yeah.” My voice cracked. “He’s that too.”

Silence descended again as Matt waited for me to say more, but I’d rather have hurled myself from the penthouse window. I didn’t want Matt to look at me with disappointment, not after all of the pride I’d seen in his eyes.

Somehow, I again felt Erik’s eyes on my skin, his lingering peppermint breath as he tried to kiss his way down my neck. I reached for my drink again then rested my hand on Matt’s. “It snowballed, that’s the only way I can explain it. One day he was teasing me, accidentally touching me and apologizing for it, and I just didn’t think anything of it, you know? I was a senior then. He’d never touched me before, but he started asking me to stay late after practice. It was when a lot of teams got interested, so he said I needed to put in twice the amount of work.”

I couldn’t look at Matt’s face, but I felt his heavy breathing, his anger as it swarmed between us, ready to strike out at any time.

I exhaled. “It was late, the trainer had left, and Erik said I needed to make sure that I stretched, so he told me to lie down on the table. When I did he joked about me being too sweaty and said to take off my shirt since I was still in a sports bra. It made sense, I was drenched and uncomfortable.” I could still smell the antiseptic in the air, see the yellow lights as they flickered overhead as I lay back, and I winced. “He started stretching my legs, nothing unusual, but his hands moved higher and higher until I kind of, I don’t know, flinched against him.” Nausea rolled in my stomach. “He held my legs down and then laughed when I struggled. I jumped down and finally pulled away from him as he backed me against the wall. He said I should stop saying no, that nobody else ever did. And then he said he could help my career.” I hung my head in shame. “And a part of me was afraid that he was right. That he could make or break me. I shoved him away, told him I wasn’t like that.” Tears welled in my eyes. “And you know what his answer was?”

Matt’s grip on my hands tightened. “That I was. He said I was like that as he gripped my ass, and then I felt—” Matt bit out a curse. “I felt him against me . . . completely aroused. I hated myself in that moment because a part of me wanted to have his attention when everyone else wanted it, but it was fleeting.” I paused. “He said I looked at him a certain way, and I wondered if I did something wrong. Was it because I wore my hair down and he yelled at me to put it up? Was it because my shorts were too short? Did I lead him on or do something wrong? And then he slid his hands under my bra and told me I wanted him. I was so damn confused, so when he kissed me . . .” It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. “When he kissed me, I kissed him back—briefly—and then he started undressing me more.” Matt leaned toward me like he was ready to either pull me in for a hug or reach for more alcohol. “And the worst part is, mentally I was fighting him, I was telling myself it was wrong, but I was afraid that if I didn’t give him what he wanted, he’d ruin my career. I realized then that he’d probably done it to other girls, but at the time I just thought that they’d had disrespectful attitudes.” I reached for my drink again. “It was over fast.” I downed its contents. “I don’t know what I expected, not what he said . . .”

“What did he say?” Matt’s voice was low, dangerous, predatory.

I finally looked up into Matt’s furious gaze. “He said he thought it would take longer to break me and laughed at how easy it was—how easy I was.” Tears spilled over my cheeks. “And then he left me alone with all the evidence of what we’d done still on my body. He shut the door. And the next day I was called into the assistant director’s office for behavior issues with my coach and sent to therapy. I found out later that he was sleeping with the therapist and three other girls from the team, and when I approached the AD about it weeks later I was too late, he’d beaten me to it. Erik made up stories about how I’d been sending him love letters, how I was obsessed with him, how I got angry when I didn’t get my way.”

“That fucking bastard!” Matt rose to his feet. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t I tell you?” My eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious? Since when has anyone ever been on my side? Believed me? Plus, it’s not like I could go to anyone and say it wasn’t consensual, because it was! I still did it! I still let him—” I looked down at my shaking hands. “I still let him touch me, take advantage of me, see? It’s better to be angry. Fear only makes you do stupid things you can’t come back from. At least anger gives you the power back.”