Page 162 of Just for the Plot

At least I think I have.

Fuck, now I’m super aware of my blinking. Am I doing it too much?

“Uh, are you winking at me?”

“What? No.”

“It feels like you are.”

This isn’t going well. Just ask him and get it over with and get the hell out of here.

“That girl you’re seeing, are you fucking her?” I ask rather abruptly.

“Whoa, okay, that came out of nowhere.”

“Uh, a requirement from Coach,” I say, not really sure what I’m saying because I don’t like our coach, nor would our coach ever ask about our sex lives, but here we are. I blame Maple. She did not prepare me enough.

“What is a requirement?”

“Wants to know who is fucking. So, are you?”

His brow furrows, looking so fucking confused. Don’t blame him; I’m just as confused. “Why the hell would that matter?” he asks.

“Curfew,” I say, just pulling shit out of my ass. “He’s, uh, considering it.”

“The fuck he is.” Cougar stands, anger flashing through him. “Who else knows about this? Because we can cause a scene in his office.”

“No one,” I say quickly, a hint of nervous sweat beading on my upper lip. Fuck, this isn’t going as planned. The last thing I need is Cougar spreading a lie about our coach that started with me. “He asked me to keep it quiet, but because you won’t answer the question, I had to tell you.”

“Oh.” He glances around the weight room. “Well, thanks for keeping me informed. Are you taking care of it?”

“Sure,” I say, wanting to add a heavy eye roll, but hold back. “Just answer the fucking question so I can move on.”

“Right, uh, am I fucking the girl you set me up with? No. But I have been meeting up with her at lunch.”

“Have you kissed?”

“Huh? What does that have to do with anything?”

Great question.

Let me just call up Bennett and fucking ask him.

I grip the back of my neck, frustration pricking at my skin. “Kissing leads to fucking.”

“Oh, right. Uh, no, we haven’t kissed. It’s platonic right now, but I think I want to move it forward. I really like her, and I think she really likes me too. So I guess kissing soon and then fucking.”

“Great.” Then without a second word, I take off, because I got what Bennett wanted, no need to dive deeper.

“Is that it? What about curfew?” Cougar asks as I walk away.

I spin on my heel and point at him. “Keep your fucking mouth shut about that or I’ll make sure it happens.”

“Hey.” He holds up his hands. “You’re the one that told me about it.”

“And I’m the one who’s telling you to shut the fuck up about it. Now add tens to that weight and get benching. You bounce off defenders like a goddamn lightweight. Put more fucking muscle on.”

“Fuck you,” he says as I exit, thinking about how much Bennett owes me for that.