Filfthy(63)

“You guys ready to get started?” Coach Roberts’ Southern drawl booms throughout the room.

“My answer’s still no,” I whisper to Carissa.

Her eyes, squinting at the corner, light with determination, and she tips her head up just enough to silently inform me she won’t be backing down.

Dragging in a slow, heavy breath, my gaze lifts in time to see Carissa’s father staring at the two of us, his face perceptive and stern. In that instant, Carissa flashes him a happy smile and scoots closer to me, placing her hand on mine.

Jesus Christ.

He smiles at his daughter, then returns his stare to me, expression fading.

He’s looking at me like he wants to kill me.

Or like he’s looking for an excuse to cut me from the team.

And I know right then and there, one wrong move and I’m gone from the team.

Carissa’s really fucked me over this time.

I feel her watching me, beaming like I belong to her – like I’m some shiny new toy her daddy brought home from the store.

My fist is gripped tightly around a sharpened pencil. It snaps in half, and Kai Santana leans in and whispers, “What the fuck, man?”





Chapter 29





Delilah



“You’ve been busy this week.” I plunk my beach towel on one of the chairs in Zane’s backyard and simultaneously admire the rock hard eight-pack he has going on. It’s rare that I actually get to see it before the sun goes down, and out here it’s bronzed and glorious.

“Yeah. It’s getting to be about that time.” He flips his sunglasses up and shamelessly drinks me in from head to toe as I slide my shorts off and yank my tank top over my head. “Is that new?”

I pluck one of the strings of the neon peach bikini that covers my body. “You like?”

“I love.”

Taking the seat beside him, I swipe the bottle of suntan lotion he’s holding and slather myself in coconut-scented cream. I’m going to miss these lazy summer days. The smell of chlorine in my hair. The taste of Zane’s lips on mine. The feel of our skin, warm and melded together.

I let out a sigh, staring ahead at the way the breeze kisses the top of the water and sends a wave of ripples rolling across it.

“You going to swim today?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’ll do some laps.”

He’s awfully quiet. More so than usual. And when he slides his sunglasses over his eyes, it does very little to mask that contemplative look on his face.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask. I’m sure he has a lot on his mind. Since we got back from Chicago last week, I’ve only seen him twice. Between his meetings and personal training sessions and charity events and team socials, he’s been almost unreachable.

But he gave me today. Said he was all mine. So I’m taking it. Happily.

Zane groans, lifting his hands behind his neck just enough that his biceps flex, and for a second, I’m willing to forgo this relaxing poolside encounter for a quick romp inside. But I’m sure we’ll get to that later.

“I don’t know.” He stares ahead. “Just keep thinking about how you’re leaving next month. Just went by so fast. And I’m so busy.”

“Aw, so you are going to miss me.” I reach over and gently pinch his shoulder, getting nothing but steely muscles in my grasp.

He turns to me in a moment of rare Zane seriousness. “Of course I’m going to miss you, Delilah.”

Ever since my emotional, naked meltdown in his kitchen a few weeks ago, I’ve stayed completely mum on any talk of what we are, what this is, or how confused it makes me. We’ve focused on fun and fucking, just like we agreed.

But it hasn’t changed the way I feel about him.

I can’t fake the butterflies. I can’t deny the excitement I feel when I know I’m going to see him again. It’s like my entire being comes alive, and I’m weightless, and nothing else exists but him.

I don’t even know what to call it. It’s less than love. More than lust. Better than anything I’ve ever experienced before.

“Is that why you’re sulking?” I insert a teasing lightness in my tone. “Because you’re going to miss me when I’m gone?”

He shrugs, his mouth hardening. “Something like that.”

“Whatever happened to living in the moment?” I ask.

“Sometimes things happen,” he says. “And you have to think about the future because you don’t have a choice.”

I laugh, confused. “What happened?”

He shakes his head, swallows, and lets his arms fall to his sides. Exhaling, he turns back to me.

“Can we talk about something else?” he says. “Like how fucking sexy you look in that string bikini?”