Page 43 of The Fall

Truly, I’ve been looking forward to this dinner with just the three of us and then crawling into bed in my hotel room and passing out.

Savannah and Max sit across from me at the table. Max has been talking a mile a minute, recapping the day. I like his energy. Really, he’s every coach’s dream. He’s excited, works hard, is good at what he does, and gets the job done with a smile on his face. It’s Savannah I can’t keep my eyes off of, though. While Max goes on and on about the routines he saw today and the disaster of the one fall we all saw but pretended we didn’t, I watch Savannah. She picks at her food while she listens to Max. Every few minutes, she’ll peek up at me and quickly look away when she sees me already looking at her.

I wish I could get her alone again. I hope I didn’t make her uncomfortable earlier. That hadn’t been my intention. I really just wanted to get her to relax, but it may have worked a little too well if what she said when she left the room was true. Now, all I’ve been able to think about all day is her wet pussy and how badly I’d love to feel it for myself.

Fuck.

I have to stop thinking about it.

Savannah shifts in her seat as if she can read my thoughts.

She’s my athlete. I’m her coach. I cannot be thinking about her like this. To be honest, I didn’t read through every piece of paperwork Tati put in front of me when I signed on for this job, but I know without a doubt that having any sort of romantic relationship with my skater would be against some sort of ethics code. Tati has put so much trust in me. The last thing I want to do is disappoint her. Everyone in her company has big hopes for Savannah and Max. Me flirting with Savannah to get in her head—or her pants—would not be beneficial to anyone but myself, unfortunately.

Too bad doing what’s right is so damn hard.

After the check is paid, I’m about to suggest we head back to the hotel when I hear someone call my name. I turn and see a coach I worked with a few seasons ago. She was really nice and we worked well together.

“Come have a drink with us?” She smiles and gestures to the group of people headed to the bar of the restaurant. Some of them are familiar faces, and some are new. Honestly, it’s the last thing I want to do right now. I’m beat and I know tomorrow is going to be a long day. But I also know it’d be good for networking, and I need to think about my future as well.

I turn back to find Max standing at the table holding Savannah’s hand.

“You should join them,” he suggests. “We’ve got something we need to do anyway.”

He looks at Savannah and winks. I know exactly what they need to do. They’re going back to the hotel to fuck. He told me it’s something they do before every competition. But right now, knowing what’s about to happen, feels like a hundred daggers stabbing in my stomach.

The hurt is jarring and unexpected at first, but then I realize it’s because I want to be the one who’s going back to her room with her.

I look from Max to Savannah. She gives me a hesitant smile. Does she even want to sleep with him? After what she said earlier?

It’s not like I can stop them. This is their thing. I knew this. I fucking knew this but forgot to prepare myself for how it would feel.

“Right.” I nod quickly. “You two have a good night, and I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.” I put on my best smile, but it must not be good enough because Savannah’s eyebrows scrunch together.

“Are you—” she starts to say something, but Max pulls her along. Can’t blame him for being eager. I stand and head over to the bar. If I have to know that the woman I can’t stop thinking about is fucking someone else tonight, then I’m going to need a drink. Maybe a few of them.

That last shot was not my best idea. Actually, I’m starting to wonder if I've ever had any good ideas in my life. I stumble down the hallway of our hotel, attempting to find my room, when none other than Savannah DuPont herself walks out of one of the rooms in an oversized T-shirt. She slowly closes the door as if she’s trying not to wake someone up. Like I don’t know whose room she’s sneaking out of.

She looks to her left and sees me standing a few feet away from her. Why would the universe plan for me to come home at the same time she’s sneaking out of that room? What could I have possibly done to deserve this torture?

“Logan?”

Her voice pulls me out of my frozen state. “Um, yeah. That’s me.” Ah, shit. I’m too drunk for this.

“What are you doing out here?” she whispers, taking a few steps toward me.

“What are you doing here?” I counter. Really smooth.

“Going back to my room.”

“Yeah. Same. Well, not your room, my room.”

She nods, and a little smile pulls on her lips. “Yeah, I figured that much.”

Of course she knows I’m not going to her room. What a stupid thing for me to say.

“Did you have a good night?” she asks.

“Yeah. Probably not as good as yours, though,” I say, nodding at the door.