Page 84 of Stroked Long
I know what you’re thinking, five minutes, not a big deal. Oh, itisin my coach’s world. You don’t keep him waiting. I’ve never kept him waiting.
“Sorry about that.”
“Care to offer an explanation?” He stands, eying me up and down.
“Not really.”
He nods and I turn to face the pool, lowering my goggles and adjusting my swim cap, not wanting to make eye contact with him. I’ve known him since I was a kid, and he will be able to read right through me.
“Long night?” he asks, stepping up next to me, tucking his clipboard to his side and looking straight ahead.
“No.” It was a fucking fantastic night but Coach doesn’t need to know that.
From the corner of my eye, I can see him nod his head. “I would guess otherwise.”
What is he up to? I don’t like the tone of his voice, as if he’s caught me.
“I know I was late but I wasn’t drinking if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I wasn’t. I know you’re not that stupid. You treat your body like a finely oiled machine, and you wouldn’t poison it with alcohol this close to the games.” Damn right about that. Ruby might make fun of me for my kale and water consumption habits, but if I didn’t eat healthily there would be no way I could succeed at the level I’m swimming. “It’s just interesting.”
“What is?” I ask, just wanting to get started with practice.
“You were late. You’re never late. It’s out of your element. Normally you would be close to hyperventilating from not being on schedule.”Shit, he’s right. What the fuck? “And yet, here you are, normal, looking loose, almost . . . happy.”Don’t smile, Banks, don’t fucking smile. He will see right through you.“And here I am worried about my athlete.”
“I’m fine, Coach. Just misjudged my time.”
“Mm-hmm, and the deep scratches on the back of your shoulders. Care to explain those?”
Fuck, busted.
Chuckling, he says, “That’s what I thought. You’ve got an extra set of two hundreds, pyramid progression, then we can get on with practice. Warm up.”
Fuck. Me.
Two grueling hours later, I’m freshly showered and sitting on the locker room bench. I pull out my phone and see a text from Ruby.
Ruby: Hope you made it to practice on time.
Yeah, not so much.
Bodi: Late by five minutes. Thought I was going to get away with it until coach noticed scratches on my back . . . from you. I paid big time in extra 200s but it was worth it. Because the entire time I was able to taste you on my tongue.
It was . . . incredible. Coach was right. I’ve never been late. And if I ever deviate from my routine, Iamclose to hyperventilating. Yet, there wasn’t anger in his expression. In fact, there was a smile in his eyes, something I’ve seen in his eyes when I win. Pride. He’s proud of me.
Yeah, I was late, but it was so fucking worth it.Shewas worth it. My Rubes.
Chapter Sixteen
RUBY
Nothing has affected me today. And I mean nothing. Not twerpy little Jimmy putting glue in my hair, not the brat Jacqueline—pronounced with a French accentof course—who thought it would be fun to use my cardigan as her own personal piece of “paper” while we cut out pictures, and definitely not the bastard—yes, I said bastard—Joel who thought painting my sacred Keds was his task today.
Nothing gets to me and why? Because Bodi Banks thoroughly sexed me up last night . . . and this morning. Yes, Bodi Banks and I celebrated a great baseball game by partaking in the act of coitus.
Penis met vagina and orgasms happened. Break out the happy dance.
And right when I didn’t think it could get any better, he texts me about how he tasted me on his tongue all through practice.Tasted me on his tongue.I mean, how can a girl not swoon over something like that, especially when it comes from a man who would rather spend his days closed off to the world than get to know someone?
