Текст книги "Lighter"

Автор книги: Gia Riley

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

His eyes take on the same searing declaration as earlier. “Nothing about you is average, Sophie, but what do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just rambling. Thanks for the ride. Coach Evans is going to kill me for being late.” I shut the car door and yank up my T-shirt dress, tying it in a knot at my waist with the hopes that my walk of shame will appear less shameful. Kipton waits until I’m safely down the hill before pulling away—his tires grinding up some loose gravel.

I walk inside to find Drew and a very flirty Cara sitting at the front desk. There’s no way she could have slept considering she’s still wearing last night’s outfit.

“There she is! Morning, love.”

Her perky ass is too much right now. “Here I am,” I mumble back.

“Is my brother coming in?” She looks behind me to the glass door, expecting him to follow me inside.

“No. He left.” I glance at Drew who looks very interested in hearing about my night. He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks at me. “What?” I say entirely too snippy.

Drew holds in hands up in mock defense. “I’m not saying a word. Glad to see you let loose a little although you look like hell. Cara told me you puked your guts up but what happened to your head?”

“Thanks, Drew. There will be no more parties or late nights for me. I can’t handle this shit. I’m also about to get my ass handed to me from my coach so if I’m not home by dinner, send a search party. As for my head, the hell if I know.” Drew busts up laughing at me, but Cara smacks him and warns him not to tease me.

“Don’t sweat it, Sophie. We’ve all had a night or two like that,” Drew admits.

“Ugh. I’d rather not experience another.” I press the elevator button, but change my mind when the doors don’t open. Instead, I take the stairs two by two. After the second flight I have to stop and rest. Suddenly dizzy, I take a minute to get my bearings before continuing back up the flights. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

I grab my shower caddy and rush to wash the remnants of last night from my body. I can’t show up to practice sporting this horrendous street walker makeover. Tilting my head back to wash my hair proves more of a challenge than it should. Gripping the wall so I don’t fall over, I do the best I can. It’s too painful for even the spray of water to hit my forehead. For once, I’m relieved when my shower is finished, not wanting to linger a second longer than necessary.

Although refreshed, I still look like hell. Grabbing the last granola bar in the box, it’ll have to suffice as breakfast. I also chug a Gatorade knowing I’m dehydrated from the combination of alcohol and getting sick.

Just as I’m about to leave, I remember the mark on my neck and hurry to find my foundation. Dotting a few dabs over the mark, I do my best to cover the hideous hickey. As long as the make-up doesn’t sweat off me before the end of practice, it should cover the evidence of my out of control behavior. Part of me wishes it was from Kipton so its existence wouldn’t be so shameful because the thought of Caleb sucking on my neck taints any thoughts of possible pleasure.

BY THE TIME I GET to the gym, I’m huffing and puffing. My hair, still wet from the shower, is painfully pulled into a ponytail on the top of my head while I fling my bag onto an empty bench inside the locker room. I don’t bother wasting the time it would take to stash it safely inside a locker. My body begs me to slow down, but I can’t.

Shedding my warm ups, I pile them in a heap on top of the bag before rushing through another set of gym doors. Arriving to practice late and without an excuse is the equivalent of asking to be put on probation. Jeopardizing my spot on the team for a night out is not who I am, at all—ever. Allowing Kipton’s pleading coupled with his spectacular muscles to throw me off my game was immature. In fact, my one night of fun wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be. My conscious has a tight hold on my behavior for a reason. I need to start listening to it again.

“Nice of you to join us this morning, Sophie. In my office, now,” Coach yells from the other side of the gym.

If he cuts me from the team, I’ll lose everything. My hands shake as I nervously sit down on the small, white chair in his office. Running through my mind are ten excuses about why I was late, but none of them seem believable considering the lump on my head. Think, Sophie. I can’t lose my scholarship.

Coach walks in the room and starts his speech before he even makes it to his desk chair. “So, tell me, Sophie, what was more important than showing up on time this morning? For someone new to the team, you’re not making a great first impression. Your teammates have to trust you as much as I do to get the job done. Right now, they’re not convinced you should even be in the gym let alone the line-up.”

“I can explain, Coach. Last night, I went out to dinner with my roommate and we were in an accident. I had a bad headache so I had trouble falling asleep. I slept right through my alarm this morning by mistake.” It’s not a total lie. I did go out with Cara, and I did have an accident. It may not have happened in a car, but I still hit something.

I’m an awful person. I hate liars. My dad used to lie to my mom about every single thing he did. She caught him in his own lies more times than I can even count.

“You do have a significant bruise on your head. Did you see a doctor last night?”

“Um. No. It didn’t start to bruise right away and I can’t afford the cost of the ER. All of my family physicians are back home.”

“I wish you would have gone anyway, Sophie. I can’t let you practice until you’re cleared by a doctor. Since you don’t have one of your own, you can see the team physician when you finish up here. I can’t let you practice until a head injury is ruled out. You could do more damage if you fall.”

“Thank you for understanding, Coach. I’ll see the doctor right away. I’m anxious to get back into the gym and work-out. I’ve been sticking to my amped up conditioning program as you asked.” He doesn’t need to know I haven’t eaten a decent meal in over twenty-four hours all while getting drunk and injured in the process.

“I’m glad to hear that, Sophie. Let me know what the doctor says. Hopefully it’s nothing too serious; you can’t afford to miss any gym time.”

“I will, Coach, thank you. I’ll be back to practice as soon as I can.”

“Hold onto this.” He reaches out his arm and hands me a business card with his information printed on it. “Everyone on the team has one. I know I’m your Coach, but I’m also here as a mentor. You can reach me anytime. Okay?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he inspects my head again. Part of me knows I didn’t completely sell him on my excuse. Regardless, I accept the offered card and thank my lucky stars he’s letting me off the hook. Maybe my injury is punishment enough for him. “Sure. Thank you, Coach.”

I leave his office before he has a chance to change his mind about probation. If any of my teammates were at the party last night, I’ll get kicked off the team for lying and drinking. I didn’t cross paths with any of them, but considering I don’t remember a large portion of the night, I can’t be sure one way or the other. I have to get my shit together, and fast. My life’s complicated enough without all this added bullshit.

THE DOCTOR’S EXPECTING ME WHEN I arrive to his office. I fidget in the waiting room chair praying he buys my line of bullshit about the accident. My palms are sweating from going over the story in my head enough times to keep my facts straight which is tough at the moment. My thoughts keep getting jumbled together in a mix of fiction and reality.

“Sophie. Come on back.”

I stand up to follow him, but get a little dizzy. He’s watching me intently so I play it off as best I can.

“How long has that been happening?” His brow is furrowed and he looks to be studying my every move. The tap, tap, tap of his pen on my file folder is enough to make it hard to concentrate on his words.

“My bruise?” I question.

“No. The dizziness. You lost your balance when you stood up.” He’s already writing things down on my chart. That can’t be good.

“Oh. Since this morning. I hit my head last night, but I’m fine.” I refuse to tell him how much pain I’m in. There’s only one place I need to be and it’s at practice.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Inside exam room number one, he shines a light in my eyes, measures my pupils along with my reflexes all before firing off a few mental exercises. I stumble over my numbers when I’m asked to count backwards from twenty, but I blame it on my nerves. I’m then asked about our presidents and a slew of other random trivia. Other than drawing a blank on the former presidents, I breeze through the questions—or so I think. The physical tests do me in completely. I can’t walk in a straight line let alone backwards. My balance is shot to shit no matter how hard I try to concentrate on my movements.

“Sophie, I’ll be frank with you. You need to go have a scan. I can’t clear you until you have it. Your dizziness and hesitation with the mental exercises has me concerned. I’m ninety percent positive you’ve received a concussion from your injury. No matter how large or small, it’s still the same process for recovery. I’ll go over the scan results when I receive them, but for now, I’m pulling you from practice until further notice.”

“But I’m okay. Honestly, I’m fine.” I protest.

“Have you had a concussion in the past?”

“Yes.”

“All the more reason to be extra cautious. Gymnastics is a risky sport as it is, Sophie. I’m not willing to allow permanent damage to your body and you shouldn’t either. You’ll get back to the gym faster if you listen to what I’m saying and follow my instructions.”

“Can I at least do cardio?”

“Walking is fine, everything else can wait. Your body needs to heal. You can’t run while you’re dizzy, Sophie.”

I hang my head knowing that walking won’t help me with conditioning at all. I hop off the examination table and accept the order form for the test. While all of this seems ridiculous, I’m wise enough to know it’s necessary. Whether I like it or not, I messed up and have to play by their rules now.

“Believe it or not, I do understand your frustrations, but we have to be smart about this. With your prior concussion history, it takes less and less each time to produce a more severe result. Come back and see me in a week, Sophie. It’s not up for debate. We’ll reevaluate your condition and see what we can add to your workout regimen. If you have any trouble in class, please tell your professors to give me a call. I’ll confirm your condition.”

“Okay,” I whisper, knowing I don’t want to accept the words he’s telling me. “Can I go now?”

“Yes, take this card. This is where you need to go for your test this evening. It’s also on the top of the order form. Please have someone take you. No driving until next week either.”

“Okay. I’ll find a ride.”

Lost in a daze of stupidity and anger, I leave the doctor’s office. I spend the entire walk back to my room going over every reason why I deserve to fail. Moving to Alabama has made me doubt ever leaving home. I’ve made more poor choices in four days than I have since I was a rebellious toddler.

Replaying over and over in my mind, I hear my mom warning me not to let her down. Having been a gymnast herself, she knows how big of an accomplishment it is to be on this team. In fact, she talked about it from the moment the letter of interest arrived until the moment I walked out the door on moving day. It’s obvious she’s trying to live out her dream through me. Maybe that should bother me, but it doesn’t. Because in my crazy mind, it means she sees I’m worth something—that I have value.

Completely defeated, I sigh when I open the door to my room and find Cara curling her hair, as usual. Evening classes begin tonight, with the rest starting in the morning. I remember she has a class, but I can’t remember which one. Damn concussion. “You have class tonight, right?”

“Yeah, an art elective. This should be interesting. I can’t even draw stick people, but how bad can pottery be, right? They made it look sexy and fun in the movie Ghost. Plus Drew’s in the class. So I’m looking forward to it.”

“Maybe they’ll let you act out the scene for extra credit if your pottery sucks.”

“Girl, I wish!”

I sit down at my desk and fire up my computer. I have to figure out how far and in which direction the imaging center is so I can get on the right bus. My tired brain doesn’t want to handle all the logistics, but I don’t have a choice. I jot the directions down on a notepad, certain I’ll never be able to recall each and every turn if I don’t.

Cara sprays her hair and gags a little before walking over to my bed. She sits down and faces me at my desk. “So what happened? No practice?”

“Nope. Off for the week thanks to my Girls Gone Wild audition last night. Apparently I have a concussion and he’s sending me for a scan tonight. I was hoping you could take me, but I’ll figure something else out. I can’t drive on top of all the other shitty news.”

“Ohmigod! Sit down, put your feet up. I’ll get whatever you need.”

“Cara, I’m fine.” I laugh at her dramatics.

“I’ll call Kippy, he can take you.” She takes her cell phone off the charger and starts pushing buttons. I spring up from my bed and yank the phone out of her hands. “No!” Grabbing my head in pain, I sit back down until the pressure in my skull subsides.

“Sophie! You’re scaring me.”

“I got up too fast, I’m okay. Please, I’ll take the bus. Don’t bother your brother.” My head is killing me. I need darkness and a nap.

“You aren’t taking the damn bus, Sophie. Kippy won’t mind at all. He’s here for us, you heard him the other day. He said so.”

How do I tell her I don’t want to see her brother because I’m insanely attracted to him and he causes me to make poor life decisions that leave me wallowing in a pool of regret? “Cara, I’ll take the bus. Please drop it. It was bad enough he had to haul my hungover ass home this morning.”

“Fine, but I don’t agree with your choice. I’ll be back in a little bit. I want to see what time Drew plans on leaving for class tonight.” With her freshly curled ponytail bouncing behind her, she swiftly leaves our room with her southern attitude in full effect.

Already worn out from the day, I lie down on my bed, instantly comparing the thread count of my sheets to Kipton’s luxurious bed. I close my eyes and picture him shirtless, sprawled out with his head on his pillow and the thin sheet draped over his lower half. Only this time, it’s not covering him entirely, allowing me to see every solid inch of his manhood. I shiver from the thought.

My mind begins to take things a step farther, as I mentally reach out and scrape my fingernails down the ridges of his abdominal muscles. I take my time inspecting every inch of his skin, placing soft kisses along the way. I dip my tongue in each valley before going up and over each toned group of muscles. Over and over, I continue until I reach the end of his glorious six pack abs right above the real prize.

I pull my blanket up to my chin and start to inch my hand lower to the throbbing between my legs. Pretending my hand is his, I hesitantly touch myself. At first it feels wrong; almost shameful. But the faster I go, the better it feels. Easily working myself into a frenzy with a few quick strokes, I’m close to falling over the edge to the vision of Kipton touching me while kissing me passionately. His lips are all over me, his tongue working magic between my thighs. A few more seconds and my entire body explodes. I moan his name and ride out each and every wave of pleasure. Before I have a chance to catch my breath, my cell phone vibrates next to my head. I grab it, still slightly panting from lust overload. Tapping the talk button, I slowly open my eyes and see it’s Kipton on the other end. Panicking, I want to hang up, but can’t now that I’ve answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

I suck in a deep breath, his voice igniting my pulse a second time. I focus on calming each inhale and exhale, forcing away my blissful paradise.

“Sophie? What are you doing?”

“I was resting.”

“Then why do you sound out of breath?”

“Do I? I’m not. I was laying here taking it easy like the doctor recommended.” I was picturing you naked and you gave me the best orgasm of my life.

“Is Cara there?”

“No. Cara went to Drew’s room. I only got back about twenty minutes ago.”

“So, you’re all alone?”

“Yeah, I am.” Why is he asking so many questions?

“Sophie, what were you really doing? Nobody gets that out of breath from sleeping unless they’ve woken up from a nightmare.”

“Kipton. I’m fine. Everything is fine. What do you need?”

“I need you to tell me the truth.”

He’s not going to let this go. There’s no way in hell I’m admitting I came to the vision of him touching me. And inflating his ego will only potentially add to my troubles. I’ll stay silent until he’s forced to hang up on me.

“Sophie?” He taps the receiver and pushes a few buttons. Both are too loud for my aching head to stand. I pull the phone away from my ear and curse, “Damn it, Kipton.”

“Then just answer me.”

I continue to ignore him.

“Okay. If this is how you want to play it, then you can listen. Maybe I’m way off base here, but I don’t think I am. Maybe you did lie down with the intention of resting, but the second your pretty little head hit the pillow, you were reminded of being in my bed. When you couldn’t get your mind to focus on anything else, you started picturing all the sexy ways I could please you with my body. From there, you started touching yourself and from the sounds of it . . . I just missed the best part. Am I right, Sophie? Were we both naked too?”

Holy shit! How did he do that? Was I that obvious? He’s shocked me right out of my silent treatment. “What! No. I was resting. Why don’t you believe me?”

“Tell me the truth. Who were you imagining when you touched yourself?” I can picture his sexy grin as he’s saying these words and it turns me on even more.

“This conversation is not happening. I’m going back to my nap. I’m hanging up now, Kipton.”

“Wait! Say yes or no and I’ll drop it.” Why does he even care?

“Yes or no.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Sophie. Please tell me. I need to hear you say it.”

“Jesus. Yes! Okay. YES!” I shout.

“Fuck. That’s so hot, Sophie. I gotta go. I’ll pick you up at four for your appointment.” The line goes dead before I have a chance to respond or argue. Cara. I’m going to kill Cara. I roll over and bury my face in my pillow. I’d scream but my head is hurting too bad. Everything was fine with my life before I came to this damn school. Now I’m daydreaming about a guy who throws my entire world off its axis simply by looking at me. He’s never even touched me intimately and I can’t stop wondering about all the earth-shattering ways he could make me lose control. And what is it with this bed! First the pillow, now this.

I close my eyes again, annoyed with both Kipton and Cara. My mind is still reeling from being caught, but I’m woman enough to admit I needed some relief. Kipton and I haven’t spent much time together, but it’s obvious my body wants him.

I’m only laying down for a few seconds when the phone rings again. “Seriously?” I grumble. So much for getting any rest.

“Aren’t you done harassing me yet?” I jokingly say into the receiver.

“Sophie?”

Shit. It’s not Kipton. “Yes. This is Sophie. I’m sorry I thought you were someone else.”

Laughing, he continues, “That’s okay. This is Coach Evans. I was just calling to see how your visit with the doctor went.”

“Hi. Um. It went as well as can be expected, I guess. He pulled me from practice and I have to have a scan done later this evening. I’m really sorry I have to miss some time. I’d rather be in the gym.”

“It’s okay. Just do what they tell you to do so you can get back to your training. And let me know about your test results. I’m sure the doctor will send me reports, but I’d like to hear from you too.”

“Sure. I’ll let you know. Thank you for calling.”

“No problem, Sophie. Get some rest.”

“I will. Goodbye.”

Maybe Coach isn’t as bad as I thought.

Now all I have to figure out is why Kipton wants me to leave so early for my appointment. Then, I can relax. Or at least try to.