Possessive Coach Page 2

  Nobody should treat a woman like that. Even if he was just scaring her, even if he was just angry that she told him to fuck off, that was way too far. No man should ever put his hands on a woman.

  I can’t let it go. As I turn away from the bungalows and head back toward the lights of campus, toward the athletics building and my late-night game tape, I know I have to do something.

  I’m not the kind of man to turn my back and pretend like it never happened.

  2

  Chloe

  When Erik shoved me, I thought I was about to die.

  Not from the push itself. No, it was the look in his eye as he touched me, like he wanted to rip my head off. And I think he could’ve done it, too.

  It was the scariest moment of my life.

  I knew he was an entitled asshole. That much was obvious. I’d been tutoring him for the last few weeks in math, and he was more interested in hitting on me than he was on the work. But I figured that was just part of his personality, and since he really did seem to need the help, I’d go out of my way to help him.

  It wasn’t until he tried to kiss me in his apartment that I knew I made a terrible mistake.

  “You seem distracted,” Sara says as we walk to class together. It’s a beautiful afternoon on CU’s campus, and I glance over at the little cluster of bushes where Erik had grabbed my wrists and looked at me like he wanted to kill me just the night before. Throngs of students walk past, carrying backpacks, pushing skateboards, walking bikes. A cluster of girls wearing white tops over bathing suits nearly collides with us, laughing with each other.

  “Sorry,” I say, shooting the girls a dirty look. “Thinking about something.”

  “Yeah?” She grins at me, gets closer. “Was it your study session with Erik?”

  I wince a little bit. “No,” I say. “He’s an asshole.”

  She tilts her head. She has short dirty blonde hair and wide brown eyes. She always wears clothes a little too big for her, even though she has a killer body. She’d rather be surfing than anything else, but she’s a sweet girl and incredibly nice. We’ve been friends since freshman year when we lived in the dorms together. Now we’re both seniors and still live together, which says a lot about how well we get along. “What’d he do?” she asks.

  “Just keeps coming on to me,” I say. “And I’m not into it.”

  “I don’t know why not. He’s hot.”

  “He’s a dick. And entitled. And selfish.”

  She laughs. “Okay, so you hate him.”

  I sigh and rub my eyes. “No, it’s not that. I’m just tired, I guess.”

  “Sure, whatever.” We head toward the English building. “Want to meet up later for lunch?”

  “Sorry,” I say. “Scheduled for tutoring this afternoon.”

  “Seeing Erik again?”

  “No, thankfully.”

  “Well, okay then. I’m going surfing this afternoon so I guess I’ll see you back at the apartment tonight.”

  “Sounds good. See you later.”

  She waves and heads off deeper into campus as I make my way to my Irish Literature class.

  I’m distracted the whole discussion of James Joyce’s story collection, Dubliners. I actually really liked it, but I keep thinking about the way Erik twisted my wrists… and about the way Coach Fyall punched him to the ground.

  David. David punched him to the ground. It’s strange to think of Coach Fyall as David. When he joined the team my freshman year, everyone kept talking about the hot new young coach. He was only thirty back then, super young to have an assistant coach position, but ever since he joined, the team’s been doing great. Girls call him Coach Hottie behind his back, although I’m pretty sure he knows about it already. He’s tall, as tall as most of the players, and incredibly muscular. I’ve seen him working out after practice with some of the guys, and he’s just as fit as they are.

  He has gorgeous green eyes, a little bit of stubble, and brown hair cut short and pushed back to the side. My heart skipped a beat when he punched Erik and knocked him down, and at the time I thought it was out of fear.

  Now I’m starting to think it was out of something else.

  There was a moment when he walked me to the door. Our eyes locked and I thought he might kiss me. As insane as it sounds, I wanted him to. I wanted that kiss, wanted him to come up with me, wanted him to protect me all night long. But he turned away and the moment was over, although we did exchange numbers.

  I don’t know what that means. He’s probably just trying to be nice and discreet. He probably doesn’t know how to handle what happened any better than I do. I just hope we can both move on with our lives, and I never have to deal with Erik Pacific again.

  After class, I head to the athletics building. I have to keep up with my tutoring responsibilities, but as soon as I get near the low rectangular building where all the main athletics clubs are located, I feel like I should turn around and leave. The idea of running into Erik makes my skin crawl. I keep thinking about that look in his eyes, about the way he shoved me backwards and was coming toward me for more. I don’t know what he planned, but I know it wasn’t going to be good, and might’ve left me in a lot of pain.

  I push open the wide glass door and head into the lobby. I flash my student ID then ride the elevator up to the third floor. It’s relatively empty for a weekday, but since the weather’s so nice, most students are either outside on campus or down at the beach. I walk down the carpeted hallway, past rooms with closed doors, past a training room, past a break room, and head into the tutoring room.

  I let out a little sigh of relief when I find it empty. I don’t know what I expected. Erik doesn’t know that I’m scheduled today, and if he does, I doubt he’d show up just to harass me. I drop my backpack on one of the tables and pull out the chair. On a busy day, most of the tables in this room would be filled with tutors and students going over all sorts of subjects. Most of the students would be athletes, but sometimes they’re kids that just need extra help and get referred over to our department. That’s unusual though.

  I sit down, check my schedule, and smile. I’m supposed to see a girl on the volleyball team, someone named Molly. But she hasn’t shown up for a single tutoring session yet, so I figure I’m in for an easy couple of hours. I kick my feet up, take out a book, and get reading.

  A half hour passes when the door opens and someone steps inside. I look up, wondering if Molly finally showed for the first time, and slowly lower the book down to the table.

  Coach David scans the room and stops as his eyes find me. He smiles a little and tilts his head before walking over. The door swings shut behind him.

  He stands over my table for a second as I stare up at him. He’s wearing his usual team polo, the blue and white team colors complementing his tan skin and light brown hair. His piercing eyes stare at me and he hesitates in front of a chair. “Busy?” he asks, glancing down at the book.

  “Not really,” I say.

  He pulls out a chair and sits. “I guess your assignment didn’t show up.”

  “Molly,” I say and shrug. “She never does.”

  “Which sport?”

  “Volleyball.”

  “I’ll make sure to let her coach know.” I go to protest but he laughs and shakes his head. “I’m just kidding. I know these sessions aren’t mandatory.”

  I let out a breath and smile. “More people show up than you’d think though.”

  “Lots of athletes are afraid of losing eligibility.” He leans back and looks around the otherwise quiet room. The rows of circular tables look barren, and his eyes drift over to the vending machine standing in the corner. There’s a projector and a screen, plus a whiteboard on the wall opposite, but I’ve never seen anyone use them. “Easy job though.”

  “Can’t complain. Once in a while I get a tough case, but…” I trail off and shrug.

  “How’d you end up doing this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  I mark my book and close it. �
��Not an amazing story, if I’m honest. I needed a job, went to my counselor, and asked if there was anything at the university I could get. She looked it up, found this, I applied, and here I am.”

  “How long have you been tutoring Erik?” he asked, trying to be nonchalant about it, but I can see his tension.

  “Not too long,” I say. “Since the second week of the semester. Look, about last night—”

  He holds up a hand. “We don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”

  “I know you’re just sitting here because of what happened. I mean, there’s no other reason.”

  He smiles a little. “I’m not allowed to take an interest in a student?”

  “It depends on what you mean by interest,” I say.

  He raises an eyebrow, smile growing. “Well, that’s an interesting question. What would be appropriate?”

  “If you were just checking up on my academic performance, that’d be fine,” I say casually. “But if you were here for a more… personal reason…” I trail off and feel a slight shiver run down my spine as I realize that we’re flirting.

  He leans toward me. “And let’s say it’s personal then.”

  I bite my lip. Definitely flirting.

  “There are people that might frown on that sort of thing. But you’re not my teacher… and I don’t mind.”

  He smirked and stared at me, eyes drifting down my body toward my chest. I let him look, and feel a strange thrill of excitement as he doesn’t even try to hide it. He meets my gaze again and holds it before sitting back in his chair. “Unfortunately, that’s not the only reason I’m here,” he says.

  “Oh. Right, okay.” I feel myself blush.

  “I need to warn you. I’ve been thinking about what to do… after last night.”

  “We don’t have to do anything,” I say in a rush. “Look, this is a good job. I don’t want to risk it. Erik’s just an idiot and I’m going to avoid him from now on. I already put in a request for someone else to tutor him and—”

  David holds up a hand. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Look. I’m going to Coach Hardy. I can leave your name out of it if you want, but I should warn you anyway.”

  I feel myself start to panic. “Please, don’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you want. Like I said, I’ll keep your name out of it, but I need Hardy to hear about what happened. We can’t let Erik get out of control, there needs to be some sort of consequences for his actions. Erik isn’t going to listen to me, so I need Hardy on board.”

  I tense my fists then dig my nails into my chair. The padded seat gives and I feel them start to bite into the foam beneath. “I don’t want this to be a thing,” I say. “I don’t want to start trouble.”

  “You didn’t.” He leans toward me again. “You didn’t, Chloe. Erik did, and he needs to be held in check. This isn’t just for you, it’s for any other girl he decides to push around.”

  I look away. I can’t help it. His gaze is too intense and he’s too handsome.

  “Just keep my name out of it,” I whisper

  He nods once. “I swear, I will. But when Erik gets punished, if he gets punished… he’s going to know why. And he’ll make the connection with you.”

  “You think he’ll do something to me?” I ask, a little surprised.

  “Maybe,” David says, looking concerned. “I really don’t know what he’s capable of. I didn’t think he’d shove a woman and yell at her like that. I didn’t let it go any further, but…” He trails off, and I can tell he thinks Erik would’ve done worse, much worse. I don’t want to think about it, so I force myself to look down at the fake laminated wooden top of the table in front of me.

  “I can handle it,” I say.

  “I hope so. And if you can’t, you come to me. Seriously, Chloe, if he does anything, says anything to you, come to me right away.”

  “I will.”

  “Good.” He hesitates, watching me carefully. I look back up at him again and bite my lip, unable to help myself. He smiles a little and lets out a breath. “I wish I’d met you under better circumstances.”

  “Yeah?” I ask.

  He nods and stands up. “I’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah. See you around.”

  He hesitates again and I think he wants to say something else, but he turns and leaves without another word. I watch him go, feeling a strange tingle on my lips. There’s some stupid part of me that wants to follow him, touch his hand, ask him what he wanted to say, why he was flirting with me, just to get him to talk to me more.

  But I know it’s absurd. He’s at least ten years older than me. He’s an assistant coach at my college. We could never have something, even if we both wanted it.

  I pick up my book and flip it open, but I can’t seem to concentrate. Every time I try to read a word, they seem to slip away, and when the two hours finally pass, I pack up my stuff and stand.

  Still no Molly. I wonder if I’ll ever meet her.

  I head to the door and leave, hurrying back to my apartment, David still on my mind.

  3

  David

  After practice, the guys head to the locker room. Head Coach Nathan Hardy likes to retire to his office and watch old game clips while the crew finishes up with the guys. Normally, I’d head into the locker room and talk to the players, make sure they’re feeling okay, offer pointers, just talk bullshit with them, but today I follow Nathan back to his office. He nods at me as we both step inside and he shuts the door.

  “What’s on your mind, David?” he asks, getting behind his big wooden desk. Old trophies line the shelves behind him from back when California University was a real contender. But they’re all from the fifties and sixties, and they haven’t meant a thing in a very long time.

  “I’ve got something unfortunate to talk about.”

  Nathan leans back in his big, overstuffed black chair and lets out a grunt. He’s a heavyset man, balding in the front, and always wears an old baseball cap to cover it over. He takes the cap off, runs his fingers through what’s left of his brown hair, and shoves it back down. He takes his glasses off and sighs. We’re both wearing our usual coaching outfit of polo and slacks, but his is stained with sweat from running on the field with the guys. He likes to take an active hand in practice, and it’s a wonder he’s not thinner. Sometimes I’m curious about his diet.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s about Erik.”

  Nathan snorts. “What’d he do?”

  “It’s not good.” I hesitate. “It’s really not good.”

  “Spit it out,” he says. “That boy’s been treated with kid gloves since he got here. It was a matter of time before he fucked up. What’d he do, steal some shit, get in a fight? Caught with drugs?”

  “Last night, I was walking over to the athletics building when I caught him in an altercation with a fellow classmate. With a girl.”

  He frowns at that. “An altercation?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. They were having an argument, a loud one. He got in her face, shoved her, nearly knocked her over. I think he would’ve done worse if I hadn’t stepped in and stopped it.”

  Coach stares at me for a long moment and sighs. “Is that where he got the shiner?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say.

  He laughs. “Goddamn, David. You punched our star player in the fucking face, didn’t you?”

  “He shoved the girl hard, and I think he would’ve done worse,” I say.

  “But he didn’t,” Nathan says slowly.

  I feel like ice water runs through my veins. I clear my throat and shift in my seat before meeting his gaze. “He would’ve,” I say firmly. “You weren’t there.”

  Nathan rubs the bridge of his nose. “Here’s the problem with what you’re saying. You think that boy assaulted a girl, and would’ve done worse. Well, what’s that mean, exactly? He would’ve beaten her up? Went even further and sexually assaulted her? I don’t know what you’re accusing hi
m of, because he didn’t do it.”

  “I stepped in before he had a chance to go there.”

  “True. And it’s a good thing you did. I bet you scared him straight with that right hook.” Nathan grins at me but I don’t share his mirth. His smile disappears and he sighs. “Look, who is this girl? You bring her to me and we’ll sort it out.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “She doesn’t want to be involved in this.”

  “Oh, goddamn it, David. The girl isn’t even talking? She’s not pressing charges?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then what’s this about? The boy got out of hand. That shit happens. He pushed her, which isn’t great, but he didn’t beat her up. You knocked him a good one, and I bet he learned his lesson. What the hell else do you want?”

  I stare at the man for a long moment. I expected something like this, but not so blatant, not so terrible. Coach Hardy’s been at California University for the last fifteen years. He’s an institutionalist, the kind of man that would do absolutely anything for the university and for the program. I know for a fact he’d sweep things under the rug to keep the school’s reputation intact. He has before, and he’ll do it again.

  “This isn’t some small thing,” I say. “This is our star player going down a bad path. He wasn’t sorry, he wasn’t afraid. He told me that he was going to get revenge, and that you were going to fire me. I know he was bullshitting, but you didn’t see him.”

  Nathan frowns and looks over at the windows. His office looks out at the locker room, and we can see some of the guys laughing and joking with each other. “Shit,” he says.

  “I know,” I say.

  “What do you want me to do about this?” he asks.

  “The kid’s gotta know he can’t get away with murder.”

  “All right. Fine. What do you want me to do about it?”

  I hesitate then shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  “You want me to report him to the police? You want me to make a statement?”

  “No, I just—”