Текст книги "Scoring Wilder"

Автор книги: R. S. Grey

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter Six

I was getting ready for practice on Friday morning when Coach Davis poked her head into the locker room.

“Kinsley, Becca, and Tara– I need to see you girls in my office for a second,” she declared before heading back into the hallway. I finished lacing up my cleats and then glanced up at Becca.

“That sounded ominous,” I said as we followed Tara out of the locker room and down to Coach Davis’ office. The door was cracked open, but after the three of us stepped inside, Coach Davis motioned for me to close it.

Uh oh.

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“So, I'm sure you girls are aware of why I called you in this morning?" Coach Davis asked with an authoritative tone.

“Um, I'm assuming it’s because of the show last night?" I answered, eyeing Becca for backup. Were we in some kind of trouble? I could hear Tara’s voice in my head, “Um, it’s not our fault that we’re pretty.”

“What show?” Tara asked, and I couldn’t decide if she was actually naïve or if she just wanted the entire scenario repeated so she could revel in it all over again. My money was on the latter.

Coach Davis sighed and quickly filled her in on the list as well as Liam’s interview.

Of course, she left out all the fun details…

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like how hot Liam had looked in all his HD

glory. Sigh.

Tara acted like this was the first she’d heard of it. “Oh, wow. They listed me?! I can’t believe it. Well, I can. I was on that list last year, so I’d assumed I would be on it again—”

I wanted to stab one of Coach Davis'

pencils in my eye just to get out of hearing her finish that sentence. I know that stabbing my eye wouldn’t cause hearing loss, but maybe the trauma of the situation would shut Tara up.

“It’s important to realize what it actually means for each of you,” Coach Davis cut her off, and I had to bite back a smile. “As col-legiate athletes at the top soccer program in the country, you are role models for young 152/890

girls everywhere. You can't help being put on those lists, but I want you to pick and choose any interviews you do in the coming months very carefully. You'll be getting a lot of publicity within the next few weeks and I need you to remember what it is you're working toward.

“I'd prefer if you each spoke with me about any interviews prior to you accepting them. I can't force you to decline, but this isn't my first rodeo and you aren't my first soccer players to make that list. You need to be careful about your image and reputation.” My image. Did I even have any image? I felt a wave of nerves roll through me as her words sank in. Was my life going to change?

Was I prepared for this?

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Nope. No. No. I was not ready for the limelight.

"So I shouldn't wear my bikini to practice?" Becca asked, lightening the mood.

Coach Davis shot her an exasperated glare.

"Just keep a good head on your shoulders. I think every one of you girls has a chance of competing at the Olympic level if you play your cards right this season."

There it was again.

The Olympics.

I could practically hear a group of chubby cherubs singing behind me as I visu-alized the Olympic rings with me standing in the very center.

I’d never felt so close to actually accomplishing my dream. Hell, every soccer 154/890

player’s dream. It was the whole reason I’d chosen ULA in the first place. Coach Davis had been the assistant coach for the Women’s Olympic team for the past three Games, so she could teach me everything I needed to know going into tryouts. However, it wasn’t until that moment, when she’d spoken the words aloud, that I actually thought this could happen. This wasn’t just a fool’s dream anymore.

"Thank you so much, Coach. I won't lose focus," I said, clenching my fists and trying to keep my excitement under wraps.

Coach Davis nodded and waved her hand to let us know we could leave. We all hopped up, but just before I was out of the door, Coach Davis called after me.

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"Kinsley, could you hold on one second?”

I spun around to look back at her, and then she added, “You can close the door."

I moved to shut it and saw Becca standing in the hall waiting for me. Her brows were raised in curiosity and I shot her a

“help-me” face before closing the door so that I was alone with Coach Davis again.

Was it just me or did the baby cherubs just suddenly flee the room? I tried to gauge her mood as I sat back down, but it was impossible. Her mouth was pulled into a thin line, but her eyebrows were relaxed.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

She sighed and then glanced up at me. "I don't think I even need to be having this conversation with you, but I'd be a fool not to 156/890

cover all of my bases and make sure you're protected."

I scrunched my brows in thought.

"Protected?"

"From the media. I think it'd be wise to distance yourself from Coach Wilder as much as possible. I don't need to reiterate the fact that any sort of relationship between the two of you is off-limits, but the media will do it's best to falsify proof of a relationship if you give them any reason to believe it to be true. The media is already having a field day speculating about the two of you, and it's only been one week. You don't need his reputation tarnishing yours before you even have a chance to make a name of your own. Does that make sense?"

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She'd overloaded me with information, but the reminder that Liam was totally off-limits felt like a dagger to the heart. To be honest, before that moment, I’d never thought of him strictly as a mentor or coach.

He would always be Liam Wilder, bad boy of soccer, and breaker-of-hearts. But that couldn’t continue. I knew he was untouch-able. So why did it hurt so bad to be reminded of that fact?

"I understand,” I responded lamely, keeping my gaze on the edge of her desk.

Why didn't she need to warn Becca and Tara about this as well? He could be having a relationship with any of us.

"All right. Go get ready for practice, Bryant. We have lots of work to do," she dismissed me, and I shuffled out in silence. Had 158/890

she given Liam the same warning? Was he annoyed that the media was trying to pin the two of us together? He had enough negative media coverage as is and he didn’t need me adding to it.

I walked out toward the field in silence, weighing the new information in my mind.

Would Liam treat me differently now?

Should I act like I didn’t see the interview at all?

It turns out I shouldn’t have worried.

Liam wasn't at practice that day. He was probably flying home from New York, but I told myself I didn’t care. I focused on practice and pushed my body until I knew I was playing the best soccer that I could. It felt good to know that my end goal was so close.

I just had to stay focused. I had to make sure 159/890

that for the next few months I was concentrating solely on soccer.

Olympics, watch the fuck out, Becca and I… and sure, maybe Tara, are coming your way.

I got my first taste of blood-hungry reporters after practice that day. They were out in the parking lot, hovering around our cars with their clapping lenses and giant microphones. I walked toward them, while simultaneously hitting the unlock button on my car.

“Kinsley!– Kinsley Bryant!– Can we get a quick question—Becca—Becca?!” They were clamoring over one another to be heard, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before Coach Davis shooed them away. They were relentless. Even as I ignored them and kept 160/890

walking to my car, their questions pierced the air, too loud and obnoxious to ignore.

They asked about Liam Wilder and his Tonight Show appearance; I answered quickly with either “yes” or “no” and then pushed past them. They didn’t give up, though, and kept pestering us as we hopped into my car and locked the doors.

They were too close for comfort and even as I started my car, they were brave enough to stand directly behind my car’s bumper. Little did they know I wasn’t above backing over nasty reporters. Spoiler: the rest of this story takes place from a jail cell.

“I can’t believe that,” Becca said from the back seat.

“When they want to talk about our soccer skills I'll be more than willing to give 161/890

them an interview,” I huffed, clicking my seatbelt into place with a bit too much force.

“Agreed,” Becca said with a scowl.

As I backed up out of my spot, I turned around to see Tara still standing with the reporters. I’d forgotten about her during our trek to the car. All of the cameras were trained on her and she had a smile that practically engulfed her entire face. I think the girl had found nirvana.

…

"So do you guys want to come with me to the spa?" I asked Becca and Emily later that afternoon. We’d survived the first week of practice and now it was time to celebrate.

"Yes!" Becca yelled, jumping off the bed.

I knew she'd be game.

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"That'd be fun, but my boyfriend is coming into town for the weekend and I have to go get him from the airport," Emily frowned.

"Is he staying at the house?" I asked as she leaned against the doorway that separated my room from our shared bathroom.

"Yes," Emily began lightly, "if that's okay? I know it sucks to share a bathroom with a guy, but you say the word and we'll go get a hotel."

"Of course it's fine. Becca and I won't be home until late tonight and then there's that party tomorrow, so take advantage. You can have full-on kinky bathroom sex, just clean up afterward.” I managed to say most of that with a straight face.

All right, yes, I purposely crossed the line with Emily because it was just too fun 163/890

making her blush at the mention of sex. I still couldn't believe that out of all of us, she was the most sexually active.

"I bet you're a freak in the sheets," Becca said with a suggestive wink.

Emily's face was now officially on fire.

"Oh my god, you guys can't talk like that! His dad's a preacher and David is really shy."

Becca and I gave each other a knowing glance. "Yup, they definitely have kinky sex.

Preacher-son-kinky-sex," Becca said, and we lost it for another minute.

“I bet he’s the only boy who could ever teach her,” I said with a devious smile.

Becca shot me a sly grin and then added,

“yeah… I think that’s because he’s the son of a…”

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“PREACHER MAN,” we both sang in harmony before cracking up.

“Guys!” Emily stomped her foot on the ground, making the entire situation ten times funnier. But eventually, I pulled myself together, stood up, and put my hands on Emily's shoulders.

"I swear to go easy on him.”

"Yeah. Yeah. See you guys later, have fun at the spa!" Emily called as we tromped down the stairs.

"I'll definitely split it with you," I promised as we pulled up in front of the fancy building.

"Don't worry about it. My mom doesn't mind if I get a massage every now and then.

She knows it helps work out the knots from soccer."

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"Awesome, then we can splurge on other stuff."

"Let's get Brazilians," Becca suggested with a straight face as we hopped out of the car.

"A Brazilian wax? Hell no."

"What? You don't get them?" Becca asked, clearly surprised.

Sorry, but I don’t need my hair ripped out by some rando in the back room of a sketchy waxing place.

"Nope."

"Oh my god, you're getting one! You have to try it at least once and it'll be good to get one now while it's summer. We can even go to the beach tomorrow and show them off."

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I gave her a pointed stare. "How do you show off a Brazilian wax, Becca? 'Hey everyone, check out my shiny vagina' ?"

Becca burst out laughing. "Okay, that sounded dumb. But seriously, I'm making you get one. If you hate it, you don't have to get another one."

I knew she’d end up getting her way, so I didn’t bother fighting it. I was mildly curious about it anyway.

I knew the spa would be high-end, but when we stepped inside, I felt like we were out of place. Soft music played from hidden speakers as water trickled down the side of an intricate fountain built into one of the walls. There was no one else in the waiting room except for a receptionist stationed behind the front desk wearing a calm smile.

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“How can I help you two?” she asked with a sugary voice as we crossed the room.

“Oh hi. I have a gift certificate that I’d like to use to get an hour massage and a waxing session, please.”

“What type of wax would you prefer: a Standard Bikini, Brazilian, or a French Wax?”

I coughed and swung my head over my shoulder to check if the waiting room was still empty. It felt like I was screaming about getting my anus bleached or something.

“She wants a Brazilian wax,” Becca filled in for me with a conspiratorial smile.

"So an hour massage and one waxing session," the zenned-out woman repeated from behind the counter. Her face was stoic and completely pore free. I bet she got a 168/890

facial twice a day, every day. "Would you like to do the waxing session first?"

"Oh, good idea.” I wouldn't be able to enjoy the massage otherwise.

"Same for me," Becca smiled, and the woman worked us into the system.

Since we didn’t have appointments, we were told to change into robes and slippers, and then “calm our chakras” in the relaxation room until they were ready for us. I didn’t know if my chakra needed calming, but before we headed toward the room, I paused.

"Becca, go on ahead, I'll be right there,” I said, holding up my phone as if I had to make a call. She nodded and went on without me. I felt a tinge of guilt about lying 169/890

to her, but I had one last thing to do before heading to change.

I turned back toward the receptionist with a warm smile.

"Could I ask you for a favor?" I asked gently.

She glanced up from her computer and mimicked my smile. "Of course."

"I was given this gift certificate a while ago and I can't remember who gave it to me.

I'd like to send them a thank you card...

Could you help me find out the name?"

I’d thought about what the best approach would be while we were heading over, and I didn't think that question set off any red flags.

"Oh certainly, I can give you the last name on the card that was used to purchase 170/890

the certificate. Would that help?" she asked with her same calm smile.

"That'd be great," I answered, handing it over to her. She typed away on her computer for a minute before smiling.

"All right, it looks like a Mr. Wilder purchased the certificate, but that was only a few days ago. Were you mistaken about when you received it?"

Her voice drifted out after the name

“Wilder” passed her lips.

I couldn't even process the second half of her sentence.

Holy.

Mr. Wilder.

Liam-freaking-drop-my-panties-Wilder had taken the time to give me a belated birthday present.

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My breathing sounded awkward when I finally muttered a response. "Oh, ha-ha, I guess I was confused about another gift certificate. Thanks."

I didn't even wait for her to say anything else before darting toward the changing room. I fumbled through the process of changing into a robe and slipping on the spa's sandals. My brain felt frozen in shock; like that bit of information had thrown a cog into my whole system.

When I caught up to Becca, she'd already changed into her robe and was lying with cucumbers on her eyes in the relaxation room.

"Is that you Kinsley?" she asked when the door closed behind me.

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"Yep," I murmured, all of a sudden scared that she'd ask me about the gift certificate. I didn't want to tell her it was from Liam because I wasn’t sure what his motives were yet.

"These cucumbers burn. Isn't that weird? It's like they're so cold that they're freezing my eyes off."

Leave it up to Becca to make me crack up in the "relaxation room" of a spa.

"Take them off then, dufus."

She smiled but didn't move to sit up.

"No. I want my money's worth."

I reclined next to her just as a spa attendant came in and offered us warm towels and jasmine-infused water. To our credit, we acted as civilized as possible until the attendant left the room. The second she was gone, I 173/890

leaned over and ate one of Becca's cucumbers.

"Ew! That's sick. That had my eye cooties on it."

"Tasted minty," I joked and waggled my eyebrows.

“Hey – have you thought at all about what you’re going to major in?” she asked.

I groaned. She’d just asked the dreaded question. “Oh god, do we have to talk about this at the spa? I have no clue. I just want to play soccer.”

“Yeah, same.”

“We register for classes in a few weeks, right?”

“Yup,” she nodded, taking a sip of her water. “We have like three months left to enjoy sweet freedom.”

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“You mean three months to go to as many parties as possible.”

“Exactly. We won’t have time once the semester starts.”

Just then, the door clicked open and a pretty, petite woman stepped in quietly. "Ms.

Bryant, if you're ready, I'll be taking you to your waxing room."

What?! I’d had no time to relax my chakra. If anything, my chakra felt even more panicked. What kind of spa was this?

"Can she come with me?!" I begged, pointing to Becca.

Becca groaned. “I don’t need a full-front-all view of your no-no zone.”

"Not like on that side of the table,” I clarified, “I just I don't want to go in by myself."

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The petite woman smiled and nodded.

"If you'd like your friend to hold your hand that's perfectly fine, but I promise it won't be too bad. I'm very good at what I do."

She sounded extremely confident, which was good considering she was about to be working with hot wax around a very important part of my body. Would it be rude to ask to see her degree? She better have graduated from Harvard Cosmetology. Yale Cosmetology just wasn’t what it used to be.

I reluctantly followed her toward the waxing room while Becca giggled next to me.

She was enjoying my misery way too much.

Once we were inside the room, the petite woman walked me through what to expect and I tried not to break Becca's hand off in the process.

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"You have to ease up. She's not even starting yet and my hand went numb about two minutes ago."

"Okay, sorry, sorry. Just tell me when she’s about to go," I apologized, staring up at the ceiling and feeling like I was sweating out of every pore on my body. "Why did I agree to this? I've never had any complaints in that area before. I mean, I'm not like a wilde-beest, but I groom myself... I swear. Oh god, do I look like an Amazon compared to the other women that come in here?" At that point I was just rambling to keep myself preoccupied. I could hear the petite woman shuffling around and I automatically imagined the worst. Like what you do at the dentist's office when your eyes are closed and they start up the drill.

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I jumped when the woman's hand touched my leg and then a loud crunching sound almost forced me to bolt from the room. "Ah! That didn't sound good."

"Sweetie, that was just me opening the sterile wax strips. We're going to get started, okay? I'm going to go fast—" I could feel her starting to smear on the wax. It was warm, but not too hot. "You won't even feel a thing and it'll be over befo—"

"AHHHHHHHH!

SON

OF

A,"

I

screamed as she pulled the first strip. The crazy lady didn't even pause. She kept going until I was yelling expletives even sailors would balk at. I was practically in tears while Becca, of course, was laughing her ass off.

She could hardly contain her joy and I 178/890

wanted to put hot wax on her face just to see how much she liked it.

"It's seriously not that bad, Kinsley!"

Becca laughed as the woman started smear-ing on some cooling cream.

"You probably don't even remember!

You’ve probably done it so many times that you’ve ripped off all of your nerve endings!” Once it was all said and done, I’ll admit… it wasn’t that bad. The woman finished and cleaned up quickly, and then I swapped rooms to get my massage. The massage room was larger and the lights were low so that it felt soothing and calm. Finally, I’d get to actually relax.

Yeah, right.

The hour-long massage felt amazing, but I couldn't stop thinking about Liam and the 179/890

fact that he was giving me the massage. Kind of. Well, okay, he knew I would use the gift certificate; maybe he was picturing me on the table.

Every time the masseuse worked out a new part of body, I imagined it was Liam's hands instead of the woman’s... I just prayed Liam’s weren’t quite as delicate and soft. But, whatever, I wouldn’t judge him for it.

Needless to say, when Becca and I finally left the spa, I was turned on and walking bow legged. Not a pretty combo.

"You can't keep walking like that or people are going to think your massage had a happy ending. Does it still hurt?" Becca asked.

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"No, it just feels so... weird, like something should be there. I feel like those smooth lanes at bowling alleys."

Becca shot me a disgusted face. “Oh my god, that’s sick. Stop picturing your vagina as a dirty bowling alley.”

I threw my head back laughing.

"I wonder if Liam would like it," Becca added so casually that I swear she was trying to get a genuine reaction out of me.

"Who cares," I muttered, putting the car in reverse and trying to push him out of my mind. It worked for half of the way home and then my brain turned into a broken record player, repeating questions over and over.

Did he get me the gift certificate because he wants to be friends?

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Did he want me to use it and think of him?

Was I supposed to act like nothing was different between us?

How long will it take for me to get used to this no-hair situation down there?

Does he like hair down there? Do they make hair extensions for that sort of thing…

just in case he does?

Was I willing to glue on a vijay toupee for him?