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“Great.”
He looks entirely too pleased with himself. If he only fucking knew…
Ifanyoneknew…
My lips snap shut, and when I glance at her, her eyes have widened slightly in shock.
Yeah, join the fucking club, Bubblegum.
“Caroline, I’ve got to take a quick call, then we can leave. Okay?”
“Yep,” she squeaks, her smile not reaching her eyes. Even I can tell it’s fake, but Coach just nods and pats her hand affectionately before turning back to me.
“Thanks for coming in, Rome. I’ll see you for camp. If you need something, let me know.”
I nod. “Will do.”
“Oh, and thank you for looking out for Caroline.” He smiles, gazing lovingly at his daughter.
Clearing my throat, I squeak out a farewell pleasantry and slip out the door, desperate to get the hell out of these four walls.
Once I hear the door click closed behind me and I’m alone in the hallway, I suck in a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I’m fucked.
Nah, fucked doesn’t even come close to what I’m going to be.
How could I be so goddamn stupid?
I’ve heard him mention his daughter a few times before, casual references at practice or during team meetings, but fuck, I hadn’t everseenher. I couldn’t have picked her out of a lineup even if I wanted to. I didn’t even know her damn name.
Just like she wanted.
Even if that has haunted me since that night. That I was so stupid to not have gotten her name.
How was I supposed to know the sexiest girl on the goddamn planet was his daughter?
And now I have toworkwith her? Goddamnit. How in the hell am I supposed to be around this girl and not want to bend her over and repeat that night?
I sag against the wall, trying to calm the fuck down, when I hear the door open, and Caroline appears, stealing my breath in an entirely different way.
“Romeo?Really?” she screeches in a hushed whisper.
My eyes dart around the empty hallway, paranoid that someone will spot us talking, so I grab her hand and tug her into the deserted locker room that’s just down the hall from her father’s office.
Once we’re inside, without prying eyes, I whip to face her.
Her long blonde hair is pulled back from her face in a pink butterfly clip, and unlike the night we met, her face is free from makeup. Today, whether because I know now that she’s in fucking collegeor because she’s fresh-faced, she looks younger than she did that night.
The pink on her lips is a gloss, making her lips look even more supple, and if I were a better man, I wouldn’t want to pull her to me and suck the cherry flavor right the fuck off. She’s wearing a plain white T-shirt that shows the smallest amount of cleavage, with a pair of ripped jeans and a worn pair of Chucks.
Nothing like the girl I met that night, and fuck, if I don’t like it even more.
This casual version of her.
Goddamnit, Rome.
