Nets and Lies Page 3

  I turned my head and tried to focus on the game, but all I could do was think about him. When I kept grinning like an idiot about our quickie, Tara rolled her eyes.

  “Did you go out to the parking lot and hook-up with Andy?”

  “Ew, no! Why would you think that?”

  “Cause you’re acting all sex glowy.”

  I snorted. “I promise if I touched Andy, it would be to slap the shit out of him.”

  Brandi was talking up some guy beside her, so Tara leaned over to me. “I saw you talking to Coach T.”

  I stared straight ahead, not allowing my face to betray anything I was feeling. “Yeah, I ran into him on the way to the bathroom.”

  “You didn’t go to the bathroom,” she argued softly.

  “Why don’t you say what you want to or forget it?” I asked. My knuckles were white from twisting my purse strap over and over in my hands.

  Tara hesitated, biting her lip. “Is there really something going on between you and Coach T?”

  My heartbeat accelerated in my chest. “Jesus, no! Can’t I think a man is hot without it meaning something else?”

  She shrugged. “You just seem really flirty with him.”

  “I flirt with everyone,” I argued.

  “I know,” she said. “But there’s something about the way you look at him. It’s different.”

  “It’s nothing,” I emphasized.

  Tara nodded, but I could tell she didn’t completely believe me. For the rest of the night, I tried to reign in my behavior so I wouldn’t make anyone else suspicious.

  Squeak, squeak, squeak, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. It was Monday afternoon, and my ears hummed with the familiar sounds of Coach’s T’s kill and drill practice sessions. As captain and guard, I ran play after play, bringing the ball down the court safely until it passed to the next player’s hands. But I didn’t feel truly successful at my job unless the ball also made its way into the net.

  The sound of Coach T’s whistle caused me to screech to a halt. “Becca, go in for Melanie,” he ordered. Becca raced off the bench without a question. “Mel!” He waved me over. I handed the ball to her before trotting off the court. “Yeah, Coach.”

  He motioned towards the players. “I want you to tell me what’s going on with the Packed Ten play. Nothing seems to be working right.”

  I nodded.

  “All right, let’s run a Packed Ten,” he barked. The rest of the girls ran the play at least three times before Coach T turned to me and arched his eyebrow. “Whatcha think?”

  I closed my eyes and saw the play again in my mind. Although I hated to admit it, I knew it was Lauren’s fault. She kept forgetting to stay with her man. I bit my lip. With my eyes still closed, Coach T’s voice hummed close to my ear. “I guess you agree with what I’m thinking.”

  My blue eyes snapped open to meet his dark ones. Amusement twinkled in them. “You’ve got too much honor, Mel. You’ll never make it as a head coach if you can’t learn that.”

  “Who says I want to coach someday?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. There was no doubt I wanted to become a teacher and coach just like him. I’d realized that freshman year when I sat at half court and listened to one of his pep talks. He made rules, technique, and skills so clear, and he made the game like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I wanted to bring that same enthusiasm to girls someday. To have them change their view that basketball was just a sport and to embrace it as something so much more than they ever imagined.

  Reaching over he poked the place above my heart. “That right there. It tells me you’re gonna make a hell of a teacher and coach someday. If,” he paused and grinned, “you learn that in basketball, you have to be tough with your emotions. There’s no friends, no loyalty—just the game.”

  I smiled. “All right. Lauren’s screwing up the play. You want me to tell her that and then make her run until she gets her act together?”

  Coach T cocked his eyebrows at me. “Ah, look whose showing her tough side.” He looked from me out to the court. “I tell you what, Terminator. I’ll let you off the hook this time. I’ll call Lauren over and chew her out. How’s that?”

  Inwardly, I cringed. Lauren had a temper, and I dreaded having to go into the locker room with her after one of Coach T’s ‘Come to Jesus’ bawl outs he was famous, or maybe infamous, for.

  He nudged me playfully. “You don’t look too convinced, Mel.”

  “No, no, you’re right. Go ahead and call her out.”

  Coach T grinned at me before blowing his whistle. Becca came back to warm the bench some more, I jogged back onto the court, and Lauren got blessed out on the sidelines.

  At the end of practice, Coach T spared me from the wrath of Lauren by saying, “Mel, run these balls into the athletic closet for me, and then bring me one of the pumps.”

  I nodded and hustled off the court. The smell of age and rubber greeted me as I opened the closet door. Grunting, I pulled the rack of balls inside before going in search of one of the pumps. The closet needed a serious spring cleaning.

  My shoes got caught in an old basketball net, causing me to pitch forward. “Fabulous, let me kill myself all over a stupid pump,” I grumbled. I scanned the rickety shelves. “All right, Coach T. Where the hell did you put the pump?” Finally, I found it on a top shelf. As I pulled it off, the shelf made an odd creaking noise, and then everything went black.

  And after that moment, it would take a long time to come out of the darkness that enveloped me.

  With my head pounding, I shakily reached for the door handle of my car. My hands trembled so hard I could barely get the key into the ignition. As soon as the car sputtered to life, I brought my foot down hard on the accelerator and pealed out of the parking lot. All I wanted was to get home.

  As hard as it was, I tried keeping my mind on the drive. Along the familiar streets to my house, I counted mailboxes and the painted lines on the road—anything to not think. As long as I didn’t think, I couldn’t remember…and as I long as I couldn’t remember, it hadn’t happened.

  I hoped for a quick escape to my bedroom when I got home, but I wasn’t so lucky. The moment I dragged myself through the garage door, my mother pounced on me. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

  “It’s just a bump, Mom,” I argued, through my pain filled haze. I stared past her—just a couple of steps, and I could make it up the back staircase. Just a couple of stairs and I could be to my room.

  Mom felt along my hairline. “I don’t know, Melanie. We may need to get it examined.”

  “No, I’m not going to the hospital!”

  Mom stared at me in surprise at my outburst. I forced a smile to my lips. “It’s fine. Coach Murray looked me over. Don’t you think if it were something serious he would’ve called an ambulance?” I grabbed a glass out of the cabinet before fumbling in the medicine drawer for Advil. Then it hit me. “Wait, how did you know about my head?”

  “Coach T called a few minutes ago to make sure you were all right.”

  The glass slid out of my hands and crashed onto the floor. My face flushed with embarrassment. “Whoops,” I said, sheepishly as I eyed the broken glass.

  “Here, sweetie. Take the Advil to the table and have a seat. I’ll get you some water.”

  “Okay,” I said. I gingerly stepped over the glass and then made my way to a chair. Without thinking, I plopped down on the hard oak. Pain shot through my lower abdomen with such intensity I bit my lip to keep from crying out. It felt like every bone in my body had been beaten, and there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of my abdomen.

  “He kept apologizing over and over for letting you drive home. He said you wouldn’t let him drive you. I told him it was all right.” Mom set the glass down on the table and smiled at me. “After all, Daddy and I know how stubborn you can be.”

  I opened my mouth to protest when a knock came at the back door. My stomach clenched into knots. Please don’t let it be him…Please…I’ll start screaming if it is.


  “Wonder who that could be?” Mom asked.

  When she flung open the door, my heart stopped and restarted.

  It was Will.

  He barely acknowledged Mom. Instead, his eyes frantically searched the kitchen. The minute he saw me, he crossed the room in two long strides. He knelt down beside me, taking my hands into his. “Are you okay?”

  With my cheeks burning, I ducked my head and whispered, “I’m fine.”

  Will wrapped his arms around me. Even though his breath was hot on my neck, I shivered. “Dad said you got a pretty bad bump on the head, and you were out cold for a few minutes.”

  “It wasn’t that long,” I muttered.

  He pulled away to stare into my eyes. There was such a mixture of love and concern that my heart ached. His fingers cupped my chin, pulling my face to his. When his lips met mine, I shuddered and jerked away.

  Will smiled, and then whispered, “My bad. I know how you feel about me kissing you in front of your mom.”

  I just stared down at my hands. Mom walked over to us. “It’s awfully sweet of you to come over and check on Melly.”

  “The moment Dad called me, I just ran out the door. He must’ve thought I was crazy racing over here for a bump that didn’t need an ambulance or anything. I guess I could’ve called, but I knew I wouldn’t feel right until I saw for myself she was okay.”

  Mom brought her hand to heart and gushed, “Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you!”

  Will’s grinned widened. “Ah, I’m even more of a knight in shining armor.” He looked at me. “Guess who has a major English paper due tomorrow?”

  “Oh, no,” I moaned, bringing my hand to my forehead.

  “Oh, yes, we do. So, I thought you might need some help.”

  “I completely forgot. Ugh, how am I going to get through an essay with my head throbbing?”

  “Because I’m going to help you,” Will replied.

  “Help me write it, or help me cheat by using yours?” I asked.

  Will laughed. “A little of both.”

  I bit my lip. “Look, I really don’t think this is a good time. I mean, I’ll be a day or two late with it, and Ms. Anderson can just take ten points off.”

  Will reached out to cup my face. “Just let me help you, okay?”

  I didn’t have the strength to argue anymore, so I merely nodded. “But I really need to shower first,” I whispered.

  “I told you I liked you all sweaty,” Will said, with a wink.

  I closed my eyes and nodded my head. “I know.”

  His thumb rubbed against my cheek. “All right, beautiful. Take your shower, and I’ll just fire up the laptop while I wait.”

  When we both started upstairs, Mom opened her mouth to protest, but then snapped it shut. I knew she didn’t like the idea of me showering with Will up there. I sighed in exasperation. “I’ll leave the bedroom door open, okay?”

  She nodded and smiled. “Okay.”

  Twice I faltered on the steps, but luckily Will was there to catch me. As we started into the bedroom, he asked, “You sure you ought to be showering?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Not that I wouldn’t mind rushing in there to save you!”

  I glanced back at him, and he shot me a wicked grin. It caused something to turn over in me like a switch. “God, don’t you ever stop thinking about sex!” I snapped.

  Will arched his eyebrows. “Ouch! That bump brought out the bitchiness in you tonight. I’m seriously feeling the claws!”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Hmm, maybe I should leave and let you work out the essay the best way you can.”

  “Do whatever you want,” I grumbled, as I took out a clean shirt and sweatpants from my drawer. But when I peeked at him through the shroud of hair covering my face, I saw him shake his head before sitting down at the desk.

  Will began tinkering with the computer as I gathered up my things and went inside the bathroom. I didn’t bother looking in the mirror. After all, I would’ve had to fight the urge to scream at my appearance. And I wasn’t just being dramatic.

  No, there was so much more.

  Slowly, I peeled my clothes off. And then one stolen glance at the inside of my practice shorts sent me over the edge. I tried reasoning that it wasn’t just the shorts. I mean, I’d been teetering on the brink for an hour now. It might have been the sheer force of trying to keep my sanity in check—to block what had happened out of my mind—or to swear on my life that I would never admit it had happened.

  But deep down I knew it was the shorts that sent me truly over the edge. The ones marked blood red with evidence of what had transpired on the futon in Coach T’s office.

  I snatched the towel off the rack and buried my face in it. Muffled sobs reverberated against the terry cloth fabric. Defeated, I slunk into the shower. With the water pounding in the stall, my screams and sobs were drowned out. I slid down the side of shower tile, letting the water scald me. Even as splotches of red blotted my skin, I never turned away. It soothed something deeply troubled within me.

  Biting into the towel, I choked off my cries. I fought to find anything or anyone else to blame for what happened. I cursed the stupid rack because it had messed up my entire night. Without it, I would have never been left alone in the gym with him. He would have never had the opportunity.

  Everything I’d fought to suppress in the last hour came flashing back into my mind—as electric and dangerous as the heat storms we had in the summer. Suddenly, I was no longer in my bathroom.

  I was in Coach T’s office.

  My head throbbed, and I reclined on the futon in the corner. A long eternity seemed to have stretched by since Coach T had ushered all my teammates out the door. They’d been hanging around to make sure I was okay. He reassured them I was fine, and they should get on home.

  Something cold pressed against my forehead and caused me to jump. When my eyes met Coach T’s, he laughed. “Easy Mel, it’s just an ice pack.”

  “Oh, thanks.” I took it from him.

  “That was quite a bump on the head,” he said, as he sat down beside me.

  “Must’ve been. I don’t even remember coming to your office.”

  “You didn’t. After you got hit by the shelf and pump, I found you sprawled out in the floor and brought you in here.”

  It was then that I wanted to crawl under the futon and die of embarrassment. The thoughts of him picking me up were completely mortifying. My face flushed. “Oh God, that’s right. I remember you carrying me now.”

  He laughed at my expression. “It’s okay, Mel. It’s not like you gave me a hernia or something!”

  “No, it’s not okay,” I moaned. “It’s totally humiliating!”

  “Just to you it is,” he replied, turning back to his desk.

  “Ugh, I bet the team is going to give me crap tomorrow about being such a spaz.”

  “You aren’t a spaz. I’ve been asking the Booster Club to repair that shelf for years. It could have happened to anyone.”

  “But it happened to me,” I countered.

  Spinning around in his seat, Coach T said, “We’re lucky that Coach Murray was still here to check you over. I was just thankful you weren’t going to need an ambulance.”

  It was then I remembered the burly face of Coach Murray, one of the trainers for the football team who had once been an EMT, bending over me while I was still lying on the floor of the athletic closet.

  I sighed with relief. The last thing I would have wanted was the big production of the ambulance being called with all the sirens and flashing lights. That would have been a nightmare!

  I leaned forward. Even though there was no window on his office door, I knew it had to be late, so I started to stand up. “I guess I better get going.”

  Coach T rose from his chair to place a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know about that. I think you’re still too woozy to be driving.”

  “Um, I guess so,” I murmured. Slowly, I eased back down. As h
e joined me on the futon, his hand lingered on me, his fingertips feathering back and forth on my bare arm.

  I shifted the ice pack. When I did, I found Coach T staring at me. “W-what?” I stammered, embarrassed by the intensity of his stare. “Oh God, is my head already swelling?”

  He laughed. “Nope. But it should because you’re just so damn beautiful.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  He shook his head. “That’s what I love about you, Mel. You’re so unaware of how beautiful and alluring you are.”

  “You must be thinking of my sister, Natalie. She’s the alluring one, not me.”

  He brought his hand to my cheek. His thumb traced a line from my cheekbone to my ear. “Trust me, Mel, I’ve been with a hell of a lot of women, so I know beautiful when I see it.”

  Heat once again rose in my cheeks at the reference to his sex life. Coach T mistook my reaction. “You don’t have to blush when you’re given an honest to goodness compliment. You are beautiful, Melanie. I mean, you were this brace-faced, awkward little mouse of a thing when you first walked in my gym four years ago. Talent out the ass, but so unsure of yourself.” He laughed. “Well, maybe you still are unsure of yourself. But, four years later you’ve grown to be one of the most beautiful young women I’ve ever seen.”

  Coach T’s flattery made me uncomfortable and caused my heart to flutter uneasily. The room closed in around me, and I felt like I wasn’t getting any air. His presence loomed over me, and I didn’t like his closeness—the way his leg brushed against mine or the feel of his hand on my shoulder.

  It wasn’t like I’d never been alone with him before. But there was something different about this time. My instincts told me something was wrong. And more than anything, I wanted to be out of there.

  “Um, it’s late. I better get home now,” I said.

  Before I could raise myself off the futon, Coach T’s mouth crushed against mine. I felt the moisture of his tongue as it pushed against my lips, forcing them open. When his tongue darted into my mouth, I jerked away like I’d been stunned by a taser. I trembled and tried to get my bearings.