The Rivals of Copper County (Copper County #2)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

JASPER

I stood outside my classroom door, watching the students buzz up and down the hallway on their way to their second-to-last class of the day.

“Hi, Mr. Lancaster.” One of my students held out her hand for a fist bump.

“Esther,” I said. “Great job on your quiz.”

“Yo, Mr. L!” A football player in my Western Civ class gave me an up-nod. “You coming to the homecoming parade, or do you have lame hockey shit?”

“Much as I’d love to see you riding on a float, Marco, hockey is my life,” I said wryly.

“Mr. Lancaster.” James came to a skidding halt in front of me, eyes wide and pleading. “Please, I really need my phone back?—”

I shook my head. “You know the rule, James. If I catch you texting in class, you get it back at the end of the day.”

“I know. I know .” He practically vibrated with urgency. “But could I please have it back a period early? I’m really sorry I was using it during class, and I swear I won’t do it again. I was just waiting for an important text earlier. Like, high-key important?—”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Are you on a kidney transplant list? Or was the president calling to ask your advice on the latest TikTok dance?”

“I mean, no… but…”

“But you asked Rory to homecoming this weekend, and you wanted to see if she said yes.”

His eyes widened further, this time in horror. “You know ? About me and Rory?”

“That’s what I do, James. I teach, and I know things,” I said in my best Tyrion Lannister impression. Taking pity on him, I added, “I haven’t heard what her answer was.” I nodded toward my desk. “Go ahead. Top drawer. But James, remember that no one who’s worth being in your life is gonna want you to disregard your priorities for them,” I called as he darted into the room.

“You got it, Mr. L.” James took his phone from my drawer and immediately turned it on. A grin lit up his face. “Fuck, yeah. Locked down . Shit, I am so vibing with this girl.” He punched a fist in the air and grinned as he danced past me into the hallway.

Laughing, I shook my head as I watched him go.

Arlene Da Silva, the French teacher across the hall, caught my smile and returned it. “Kids, huh?” she said, just as my phone buzzed in my ass pocket.

“Ha. Yeah. Kids !” I agreed before heading back to my now empty room and closing the door.

I was very glad no one was around to see me practically tearing my pants in my haste to get my phone out.

Watt had started texting me yesterday afternoon (“ Now five people text you. So there .”), and since then, I’d become a Pavlovian what-not-to-do, practically salivating every time the damn phone vibrated, even in the middle of class. It could be argued that I should take my own advice…

Except that my situation and James’s weren’t similar in any way. I mean, I wasn’t trying to “lock” Watt down. He and I were friends .

Friends with benefits.

And, yes, admittedly, I really hoped to… you know, benefit … from those benefits again tonight when Watt came over to help with Mabel’s house, because they’d been very, um… beneficial … Saturday morning, but that didn’t mean I was trying to “vibe” with Watt.

Whatever the fuck that meant.

I was just grateful that Watt had meant it when he said he wanted to be friends again and had been sincere in his offer to help with the house. That was all. Hearing his calm, practical “We’ll go room by room, little by little” made the overwhelming task seem possible . And getting his ridiculous texts—“ Bet I can make you laugh. You ready? ”—brightened my day.

In a friendly way.

Unfortunately, friendship didn’t entirely explain the wave of disappointment that whacked me in the chest when I unlocked my phone and saw the text wasn’t from Watt… but residual marriage bitterness might.

Martin

Jazz, this is silly. We still co-own a business. You can’t ignore me forever.

I snorted. Couldn’t I, though ? Our business, which no longer had any clients, thanks to Martin and his boyfriend, had ceased doing business over a year ago.

And I fucking hated when he called me Jazz.

I marched over to my desk, threw myself into my chair, and opened my laptop to prepare for my final class of the day. As part of the process for getting my temporary teaching credentials, I had one class a week observed by either Principal Schmidt or Raj Wickramasinghe, the school’s humanities chair, and I wanted to be on my game, just in case Kayla had taken her concerns about my teaching methods to the principal. After that, I had a practice to get to. And then benefits to think about…

So I couldn’t explain how I ended up hate-scrolling Lancaster Modeling Worldwide’s Instagram.

I’d made a study of Martin’s new business after our split, pretending it was market research on a would-be competitor for when I started my own business while really searching for reasons why Martin had screwed me over. Unfortunately, the smiling faces of his clients hadn’t told me anything I didn’t already know.

Mabel had called Martin a snake… and she was right.

Strangely enough, back when I first met him, snakiness had been part of his charm. Martin made decisions based on his own bottom line, and after all the complex emotional upheaval of my last summer in Copper County, the simplicity of that had been comforting as fuck.

The first time he’d propositioned me, when I was twenty, I’d laughed it off. The second time, a day or two after Mabel had told me about Watt’s marriage… I hadn’t.

I’d told myself that having an affair with a man twice my age was adult and worldly. Exciting in its secrecy—because it had to be a secret since forty-something Martin might be a horny enough bastard to fuck his twenty-something client, but publicizing it might hurt his brand. I’d thought I was free from emotional entanglements, and I’d felt powerful.

In short, I’d been an idiot .

By the time we’d started our agency, I’d been wiser. Business was the one area where I’d trusted Martin, and I’d believed that as long as I kicked ass as operations manager and let Martin focus on glad-handing and networking—as long as I proved I could keep our bottom line nice and high—he’d have had no reason to fuck me over. Our marriage, such as it was, had felt like an extra level of security.

Until it wasn’t.

I’d had to lose everything, but I’d finally learned my lesson.

I would never again give my power away or make life decisions based on hopes and dreams instead of reality. Nobody was that trustworthy.

Which was why Watt and I being friends suited me perfectly.

My phone vibrated on my desk, startling me so much that I accidentally like-hearted one of Martin’s old posts.

Fuck.

I un-liked it immediately, then clicked my browser window closed just in case. It was past time for me to block Martin entirely.

But when I picked up my phone to do just that, my stomach swooped giddily at the message on the screen.

Watt

WHY DID THE BOSTON TEA PARTY GET SO WILD? laugh-cry emoji

Already grinning wildly, I typed out a response.

Is this another dad joke? Because your dad jokes are the worst. There’s no way you’re winning the bet at this rate.

Watt

I am literally someone’s father, Jasper. All my jokes are dad jokes. ANSWER THE QUESTION.

*sigh* I want you to know this is done out of pity, okay? This is a pity-ask.

I DON’T KNOW, WATT? WHY?

Watt

Oh my god, you’re dying to know now, aren’t you? Maybe you don’t deserve to.

I laughed out loud in the empty room.

Ugh. This is painful. Truly painful. You’re embarrassing yourself. Frankly, you’re embarrassing both of us.

Watt

BC THE COLONISTS WERE STEEEEEPED IN REVOLUTION. lol. Get it?

No! Nobody could get that. It doesn’t even make sense! What the fuck?

Watt

You’re laughing.

Am not!

Watt

You are. I can just tell. It’s an instinctive thing. A “psychic knowing.” Like you with hockey.

It doesn’t count if I’m laughing at YOU instead of the joke.

Watt

My work here is done. Goodnight.

Watt? That doesn’t count!!!

OMFG, I hate you.

I was still staring dopily at my phone when someone knocked on my classroom door. “Come in.”

“Hey, Mr. Lancaster?” Derry Bartlett’s dark head popped into the room, and his hazel eyes—Watt’s eyes—met mine. “D’you have a sec?”

I slid my phone guiltily into the drawer.

“Yeah. Of course. Have a seat.” I motioned toward the rows of desks and closed my laptop so I could give him my full attention. “Having trouble with the essay?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s, um…” He folded his large body onto one of the desks and kept his eyes trained on the whiteboard over my head. “Mr. Lancaster, you know a lot about life and shi— stuff —right?”

I blinked. “Depends on the day, really. But definitely some shit, yes. What’s up?”

“Well.” Derry shifted in his seat. “I have a… a friend…”

My eyes widened, and I fought to keep my expression neutral. In my whole life, I’d never heard an I have a friend story that ended well.

“He, uh, he’s having some trouble planning out his future, kinda.”

“Oh.” I relaxed back in my chair. “You mean deciding what college to go to, what to study, what career he wants, that kind of thing? Because your friend could talk to Mrs. McReady at the guidance office. She?—”

“N-no. No, it’s not that, exactly.” Derry licked his lips. “It’s like… what do you do when your parents want you to do one thing and you want to do something else?” He glanced behind him, as though checking to make sure no one was listening, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Like, if you don’t want to stay in New York for college or play hockey anymore?”

“ Oh ,” I said again. My phone in the drawer vibrated with a text notification like the thumping of a tell-tale heart. “Do you… I mean, does your friend… know what he’d rather do instead?”

“Not really?” Derry stretched out his long legs beneath the desk. “He has a billion ideas. Law school, maybe. Or acting.” He rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t really know. He mostly knows what he doesn’t want.”

“Oooh.” I nodded. “Yeah, I feel that. Uh… I guess the most straightforward plan would be to talk to your dad… er, his dad. I mean, his parents. Let them know what he’s thinking, even if he doesn’t have it all sorted yet.”

“Well, yeah.” Derry spread his hands like this was the most obvious thing in the world. “But, like… how?”

“How?” I repeated.

“Yeah.” Derry shook his head impatiently. “People say ‘talk about it’ like it’s easy. It’s not. We’ve been planning on going to Utica and playing hockey forever. It’s been decided. Set in stone. You can’t just say, ‘ Sorry, changed my mind .’” He ran a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture that was so exactly like his father’s I nearly smiled. “Or, I mean, I guess you can , but it sucks when you know they’re gonna be pissed and disappointed and worried.”

“True story, bro,” I said with feeling. “And lots of things get better as you get older, but that one?” I shook my head. “It never doesn’t suck, feeling like you’re disappointing someone. When I was your age, I started modeling because my mom wanted me to, and since I was the human equivalent of a wind-up car, once I got pointed in that direction, I kept going for a loooong time. But eventually, I ran out of steam and thought… wait, why am I doing this? I realized I di dn’t have a reason. I never had. Took way too long for me to get there.”

“But… she was okay with it, right?” he asked hopefully. “When you did tell her?”

“ Noooo . Nope. It’s been five or six years since my last modeling campaign, and to this day, she likes to pretend I’m just going through a phase. Every time she meets an up-and-coming new designer, she tries to convince me to come back for just one more photo shoot.” I smiled. “I got to a point where I was more okay with disappointing her than I was with disappointing me .”

“Yeah.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Yeah, I get that.”

“And I wish I could tell you that after I woke up and made that change, my whole life sorted itself out,” I said gently, “but it didn’t. Living your life to please other people becomes a habit if you do it long enough, and you start to lose touch with what you want altogether. I’ve only just started to understand that.” I leaned toward him. “I wish I’d started being honest with myself and the people I love when I was younger. Maybe I’d’ve made that a habit instead.”

“Yeah.” He heaved a disappointed sigh.

“I guess what I’m telling you is, even if it’s hard, you need to live your life for yourself. Parents might have an idea of what they think will make you happy, but in the end, you’re the only one who has to live with your choices.”

“I get what you’re saying, but…”

“It’s still not easy,” I said with genuine sympathy. “I wish I had a magic answer, but any adult who says they’ve got their shit figured out is lying.”

“My dad does,” Derry said unhappily. “He always knows what he’s doing.”

“Ha! Right.” I laughed without thinking. Only when Derry looked at me in surprise did I realize he’d been sincere. “Uh. I mean…” I cleared my throat. “I don’t think it’s that simple. He probably second-guesses himself a lot and just doesn’t share that with you.”

Derry shook his head. “You don’t know him well enough yet, but you’ll see. He’s the chillest guy ever.”

I forced myself to nod slowly. Obviously, I wasn’t going to talk about Watt to his kid—hashtag beyond inappropriate— even if Derry was wrong. But it bothered me a little… or possibly more than a little… that Derry didn’t know Watt and I had ever been more to each other than reluctant co-coaches.

“If that’s the case,” I offered, “then maybe your dad will be more understanding than you think when you talk to him about this.”

Derry cocked his head suspiciously. “But we’re not talking about him. I said this is about my friend .”

“Right,” I agreed. “Sorry. Your friend.” Hesitantly, I added, “I’ll tell you this, though: sometimes you need to take a wrong turn to get where you’re supposed to be. Someone used to say that to me a lot—” I grinned, thinking of Mabel. “—but I didn’t really understand it until I was older. There are a billion ways to be happy in this life, Derry, and if we all had to follow the same path, the traffic would be ridiculous. Just make the best choices you can—er, that your friend can— and trust that it’ll all work out.”

He smiled a little. “Thanks, Mr. L. You’re, like, weirdly easy to talk to.”

I laughed. I’d been on the cover of L’Officiel twice, but somehow, this felt like a much bigger win.

“Knock, knock,” Principal Schmidt said, pausing in the doorway. He saw Derry and beamed broadly. “Mr. Bartlett! My favorite student. ”

Derry and I exchanged a smile. Every student was Principal Schmidt’s favorite student, and he told them all so.

“Hey, Principal Schmidt. I was just, uh…” Derry pushed to his feet. “Getting Mr. Lancaster’s help with an essay.” He gave me a significant look.

I nodded. “Yup. You sure were. You think you’ve got a handle on it now?”

Derry grinned. “No? But you’ve given me a lot to think about. See you at practice, Coach.” He rapped his knuckles on his desk and hotfooted it out of the room.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Principal Schmidt said. He looked toward the hall, where Derry had disappeared. “Everything okay?”

“I… I think so.” But when my phone vibrated in my drawer again, I frowned.

Was my conversation with Derry something I was supposed to talk to Watt about?

I wouldn’t even consider it if Derry had been anyone else’s kid. Nothing we’d discussed concerned his health or safety, and as an almost adult, he deserved to have some privacy and autonomy… especially when the very thing we’d been discussing was how to talk to his parents—or his “friend’s” parents—about complicated or disappointing things. I didn’t think my friends-with-benefits-ship with Watt changed that.

“Principal Schmidt,” I began.

“Jasper,” he chided, “it’s Mike . You work for me, and you were never actually a student here, remember?”

“I know. It just feels weird. I keep expecting Aunt Mabel to pop out from behind a door and give me a look .”

He laughed and rocked up and down on the balls of his feet excitedly. “I stopped by to let you know that I won’t be observing you next period. Based on Tam Monroe’s recommendation, and my own, the board approached the state licensing agency, and your temporary authorization has been approved.”

I stared at him in surprise for a moment, my brain struggling to shift gears. “But I thought… I’ve heard some of the parents are concerned I’m not following Tam’s lesson plans faithfully enough. I, uh, I’ve been trying to get the kids engaged, but I think maybe I’m making the assignments too time-consuming.” I lowered my voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not actually a history teacher.” I winked.

Principal Schmidt frowned. “Well, your temporary certificate says you are, and Raj has been signing off on all of your assignments. Unless you’re telling me he doesn’t know what he’s doing?”

“No!” I hurried to say. “Of course not.”

“And Tam told me that she’s going to implement a lot of your ideas into her plans when she gets back. I believe her exact words were, ‘ I’m so stealing all the good shit Jasper’s coming up with .’ Do you think she’s wrong?”

I chuckled. That sounded like Tam. “No, I just…”

“You just need to trust yourself a bit more. You’re helping your students learn and helping them think critically about things. That’s priceless. And remember, Tam didn’t set out to be a history teacher, either.”

“She didn’t?” I wrinkled my nose. “Really?”

“Nope. She wanted Celia Govostes’s job. Celia’s nearly seventy and she’s got a trick hip, but she’s feisty. She’ll probably be running the Phys. Ed. department until she’s a hundred.” He smirked. “Once you give a person a whistle, it’s hard to pry it away from them.”

I laughed, thinking of Watt. “No kidding. ”

“So, like your great-aunt used to say, sometimes you take the elevator, sometimes you take the stairs.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t think that just because Tam was doing this job before you that she’s somehow better at it than you are. More experienced, sure, but that’s not the same thing. Speaking of which…” He flashed a knowing smile. “How’s hockey going?”

We chatted for a few minutes about my progress (or lack thereof) before he excused himself and left me to prep for my final class of the day.

Which, of course, meant me grabbing my phone from my drawer as eagerly as James might have.

Watt

Hey, can we talk before practice?

Jasper?

I assume you’re ignoring me because you’re still laughing at my joke. Pull yourself together.

I bit my lip as a smile stretched across my face. God, I liked having Watt in my life again.

And, I realized, I couldn’t wait to tell him about my day. Not just the shitty, sad panda bits about Martin, where I wanted to lay my head on Watt’s chest and have him hold me, but the really good stuff, too.

I wanted him to know that one of my students had trusted me enough to ask for advice and that Principal Schmidt had given me a huge vote of confidence. I wanted to tell him about Martin’s bullshit attempts to contact me and how I was ignoring the fuck out of him because I didn’t care about his approval anymore .

I wanted to explain how fucking good and strong I felt in my own skin these days and my sense that I was slowly figuring things out…

And that he was part of that.

Sorry. I was searching the rule book for a clause that allows me to cancel this friendship due to attempted murder by terrible jokes, but I’ll have to get my revenge in other ways. Tonight. eggplant emoji

Watt

You wish. Tonight’s my turn.

A shiver of want raced up my spine. Oh, yes, it was.

We’ll see… Coach.

Watt

Nope. No. You’re not turning Coach into a THING.

Speaking of which… meet me in the lobby by the box office before practice?

I knew Watt wasn’t planning for us to get it on in the box office right before we coached—though I wouldn’t be opposed to a little make-out sesh—but happy anticipation of just seeing him and being in his presence had me practically floating as I taught my last class and drove out to the rink…

Where Watt was already waiting for me, just as he’d promised.

“Hey! God, I have so much to tell you,” I began, but before I could finish my greeting, Watt pulled me into a nearby maintenance closet and pulled the door closed.

“Well now, Coach Bartlett, this is unexpected,” I purred, wrapping my arms around his neck. The tiny space smelled strongly of industrial cleaner, and the light from a single pull-chain bulb was weak, but I was here for it. “I’m kinda wishing I hadn’t taken the time to change into my running tights before I left school because if you get handsy, we’re gonna have a situation?—”

“Jasper,” Watt began in a low, pained voice. Then he stopped and squeezed his eyes shut.

“What?” I demanded, dropping my arms to cup his jaw. “Is there a problem with the team? Or a problem with…” I gestured between the two of us. “Are you rethinking the friends-with-benefits?—”

“No! No.” He pressed a quick, chaste kiss to my lips. “Not rethinking… exactly.”

“Okay.” I narrowed my eyes. “Can I buy a couple consonants and some vowels, Pat?”

Watt took a step back—which might as well have been a mile, in a closet that was only four feet deep—and ran a hand through his hair. The frustrated gesture reminded me of Derry, earlier, and I would have smiled if I hadn’t felt the anxiety pouring off him.

“It hit me a couple hours ago that you and I haven’t really talked about… how we’re going to talk about… us,” Watt said.

Nose wrinkled, I stared at him. “Uh. Maybe try different consonants and vowels?”

“Derry is out there.” He waved a hand toward the ice impatiently. “I don’t know how to tell him that I… that we …” He broke off with a headshake. “He’s at an impressionable age, and you’re his coach, and… it’s not like you and I are actually dating. He doesn’t even know that I’m attracted to…” He blew out a breath. “ Fuck. I’m not saying this right. ”

After my divorce, one of the mindfulness coaches I’d worked with had been a huge fan of ice plunges—daily mini torture sessions where you lowered yourself into frigid water and kept yourself there as your balls curled into your torso in an attempt to seek shelter. I’d tried it precisely once before vowing never again.

This conversation was having roughly the same effect on me. All my happy, bubbly thoughts froze and sank to the pit of my stomach.

It wasn’t even that anything Watt was saying was wrong or hurtful—I didn’t imagine many parents wanted their teenagers to know about their sex lives—but suddenly, it was like Martin was standing in front of me, telling me that we had to keep our sexual relationship quiet because nobody would understand.

“You’re saying you want to keep it a secret?” I asked in a small voice.

“No! Or… maybe? Shit, I don’t know. I do know my timing sucks, though. We should have talked about all this over the weekend when we decided to… to get physical, but I let myself get carried away. I didn’t think, and I was happy not thinking. It feels unfair to dump this on you, but it involves you, and I want us to be on the same page?—”

“No, I’m glad you brought it up,” I cut in, and I meant it. “We’re friends, above anything. If you’re worried about something, I want to know.”

“I can’t even tell you what I’m worried about , exactly. Derry’s dated girls and guys—he tells me kids today aren’t ‘into labels’—and he knows my closest friends are gay. Nobody’s going to clutch their pearls. But I… I think I am into labels, and it bugs me that I don’t have one that fits. I can’t explain it to him when I can’t fucking explain it to myself.”

Something about what Watt was saying, or maybe the despair in his voice, broke through the protective bubble I’d been trying to pull around myself.

This conversation wasn’t about me. Watt was not Martin. And I wasn’t a twenty-year-old idiot anymore.

“Watt, Derry’s a smart kid. You don’t have to have all the answers. In fact, maybe it would be good to let him know you struggle sometimes. That way, he can talk about his own struggles more easily.”

Deep hazel eyes met mine. “So you’re saying I should tell him? Is it even worthwhile? You’re leaving in a couple of months, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I am. And no, I’m not saying you should tell him if it doesn’t feel right. Coming out, in any capacity, has to happen on your own timeline.” I believed that to my core. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to hold back from having hard conversations with him.” I stepped forward and put a hesitant hand against the front of his sweatshirt. “It’s okay to let him see that your life is as messy as everyone else’s.”

Watt blew out a breath and drew me tightly against him. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and buried his face in my neck. “I know you’re right. But…”

“But you’re not ready to do it today.” I put my arms around his shoulders and scratched lightly at the hair on the nape of his neck, loving the way he arched against me as some of the tension bled from his shoulders. “That’s okay.”

“Is it? Is it going to bother you to not be open about it?”

“To have to restrain myself from throwing you against the boards at the end of practice and having my wicked way with you in front of the kids?” I laughed. “Somehow, I’ll manage. Can Derry know we’re friends? Or should I pretend I hate you? If so, you’re gonna need to tell me a few more dad jokes?—”

“Of course he can know.” Watt pulled back to frown at me seriously. “He likes you a lot.”

“Well, good. I like him a lot,” I said softly. I pushed Watt’s hair back from his forehead. “He’s a sweet guy, and he tries hard to do the right thing. Reminds me of someone I know.”

Watt smiled. “Thanks.”

“Hmm? Oh, I didn’t mean you , silly,” I teased. “I meant me . I’ve only known him a couple weeks, but I think we’ve really connected over the mindfulness exercises, so— mpfh.”

Our lips met in a fierce kiss that was both playful and longing. The way his tongue moved against mine sent a bolt of crackling heat through me, displacing my earlier chill.

Fuck , Watt was good at this.

A second later, he pulled back and rested his forehead against mine.

“Thank you,” he breathed against my lips. “I am so damn glad I accepted your peace offering. You make things better.”

His words and the warm, affectionate look on his face made my stomach lurch in a happy, hopeful—and distinctly un-friends-with-benefits-y—way, but I ignored it. “I’m happy to help. You’re still coming over tonight, right?”

“Mmhmm. I said I’d clear out your den.”

“ Clear out your den. ” I snorted. “Not a euphemism I’m familiar with, but?—”

Watt groaned and clapped a hand over my mouth. “Never meet my friend Oliver. The two of you would get along a little too well.” He frowned. “Actually… maybe a lot too well. You’re not, ah, clearing dens with anyone else, are you? ”

I made a show of looking right and then left. “Not at the moment, no.”

“I mean, you and Delaney aren’t…” Watt cleared his throat. “And I ah, I know there are hookup apps you can use…”

“Delaney’s not on any of the apps,” I said sweetly, deliberately misunderstanding him. “Tam made him promise. But he said all bets are off once he actually moves here for good in a few months.”

“He’s moving here for good?” Watt’s jaw worked.

It wasn’t possible Watt was actually jealous—that wasn’t what our friendship was about—but the idea gave me a little thrill I didn’t want to consider too closely.

“Yup. He’s buying a fixer-upper on the far side of Copper Lake from the campground. We’ll all be neighbors! Won’t that be awesome?”

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “Awesome. But for the next couple of months… I mean, as long as you’re here, while we’re being friends with benefits, you and I can…”

I ran my tongue over my teeth. It was probably smart that Watt kept reminding both of us that what we shared was temporary. There was no reason it should bother me. So I took pity on him.

“Watt,” I whispered into his ear. “Tonight, I want my mouth on you… and only you.”

A shudder moved through his body from head to toe. “Fuck, yes.”

“But for now,” I said, stepping away and throwing open the door, “let’s get to practice… Coach .”

Watt shot me a glare and took a second to adjust himself in his pants before he followed.

“Still not a thing, asshole,” he muttered as he brushed past me .

I laughed out loud. “Bet you it is,” I called as I hurried to catch up.

Was I worried I was making bad decisions?

Maybe. Yes. Just a tiny bit.

But at that moment, I was enjoying myself too much to care.