Chapter 25

25

Bodhi

Another day, another swim practice. Another early morning of my ass on the bleachers, twitching with anxiety every time I looked at the pool.

I didn’t even know why I bothered coming. Why I subjected myself to this early morning misery.

Phweee! The short blast of the whistle brought my head around as I watched Emmett— excuse me —Coach Resch drop at the edge of the pool and talk quietly to one of the swimmers. After a few nods and a light knock on the top of the swimmer’s head with his clipboard, the swimmer took off for another lap.

I pretended I didn’t know why I kept coming to practice, but I knew. If I didn’t come to practice, I’d have no excuse to see Emmett. It was pathetic, but that was something else I pretended not to know.

I said I’d give him time, but it was hard. A week living in Rush’s old room, staring at the walls and thinking about how he and Lars used to live there, was a mindfuck. So was the fact that Emmett didn’t call. And if he wasn’t going to call, then I wasn’t either.

My talk with Rush the other morning echoed in my head on the daily. It had felt good to get some of those things off my chest. Good to tell him my side of things. He’d said it was a fresh start, and I believed him.

But now here I was a week later, and things still felt the same. And I was trying. Do you know how hard it was to actively deny my natural reactions and feelings to everything? To tell myself I was just overreacting or immature? Or that I needed to consider everyone else and their points of view.

I’d been doing it. Smothering my own feelings and thoughts in favor of others, trying to accept the peace offering from Rush. Trying for a fresh start. Trying to give everyone their space.

Still, there was a whisper. What about me?

It made me feel selfish, but why couldn’t I be selfish? If I didn’t worry about myself, who would?

Being selfish was what got me in this mess, though, wasn’t it?

Try harder, Bodhi.

Phweee-phweee! Coach signaled everyone, raising his hand above his head. This morning, he wore a white baseball cap, the bill worn and curved so it shadowed part of his face. “I’m calling it! You look good today. Keep it up and we’ll be ready for next week’s meet. Hit the showers!”

Ryan hauled himself out of the pool, all muscle and dripping wet. He said something to Coach, who made a face, but then he played another solo on his whistle.

Everyone hated that sound, but me… I loved it.

Groans echoed around the natatorium. “Walsh has something to say!” Coach yelled, and the groans cut off as Speedo-wearing men all headed in my direction.

At one time, I would have thoroughly enjoyed that view. All those scantily clad muscles, strong thighs, and glossy skin on display would have been a total eye buffet, but not today. Not since I’d laid eyes on Emmett.

Everyone gathered and looked at Walsh expectantly. I mean, I’d been told Elite thought of him as a leader, but it was something else to see it firsthand. To experience it.

He’d helped me that night at the dorm, going as far as ripping Ronnie off me and throwing a punch. He’d given me his number, offered to swim with me, hell, even offered me a place to stay that night. He went out of his way not just once but multiple times to invite me to Shirley’s.

I’d watched him for weeks now, encouraging other swimmers and offering help if they asked him. He was nothing at all like Cobalt, the unofficial captain of the Nobles. The guy who literally killed my sister.

Walsh and Cobalt were so night and day that it practically gave me whiplash. And trust issues. I’d trusted Cobalt at one time too, and look how that turned out.

Ryan pulled the swim cap and goggles off in one tug, and from the bench, Jamie tossed him a towel, which he wiped over his face and chest, then slung around his neck.

“What is it that you need to say, Walsh?” Coach asked, his voice gruff.

“Since it’s the start of a new season, I figured it was a good time to remind everyone here at Westbrook why Elite is, well, elite,” Ryan said, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear.

“We’ve got a rep to uphold!” someone called from the back.

Smiling fast, Ryan nodded. “Exactly.”

“What’d you plan, bro?” Jamie asked.

Ryan raked his eyes over the group, then turned to Coach. “I offered up Elite’s help for the upcoming alumni benefit.”

“You did what?” Coach asked.

“Every fall, Westbrook alumni hold a large fundraising event. All proceeds go to the college, some of which is spent here for Elite.” Ryan went on, and the swimmers nodded. “I figured what better way to show our appreciation for all the support than by being part of the fundraising?”

“You volunteered Elite to help fundraise for the benefit?” Coach asked.

Ryan nodded. “The entire team is invited to the black-tie benefit where we will mingle and smile and make the university look good. I know you can pull out the Elite charm for some extra donations.”

Coach grimaced. “I’ve seen you all in social settings. You are not that charming.”

“We’re a delight,” Kruger put in.

“You probably should stay home,” Coach deadpanned. He turned to Ryan. “I admire your initiative and that you want to do something positive for Elite, but now is not a good time. We need to be focused on the season.”

“When I talked to the dean, he loved the idea.”

The air around Coach shifted. His shoulders tensed imperceptibly, and the lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. I wondered if anyone else noticed, but with a quick glance around, it appeared everyone else was looking at Ryan.

“You talked to the dean about this?” he asked.

Ryan nodded. “I wanted to get approval before I asked for volunteers.”

Coach blanched. “Volunteers for what?”

“The auction.”

“Auction?” Landry asked from the other side of her dad.

Ryan flashed a wide, brilliantly white smile, his blue eyes dancing with mischief. “That’s how Elite is gonna bring in the donations. By auctioning off a few of us for dates.”

Whistles, laughter, and catcalls filled the room. Excited murmuring rolled through the entire team like a wave. The noise rose to the high ceilings and seemed to increase.

“Bro, it’s like Pretty Woman , but instead, it’s pretty swimmers!” Kruger shouted.

PhweeeeeeeEEEeeeeeeeee!

“Shut it!” Coach roared, then pinned Kruger with a look. “Elite are not sex workers, Kruger. Jesus .” Turning to Ryan, he said, “There is no way Dean Cardinal agreed to this foolery.”

“It’s not foolery, Coach. It’s charity,” Jamie put in.

Coach muttered something I couldn’t make out and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Ryan decided it was a good time to keep talking. “So yeah, I’m gonna need five of you to volunteer to go up on the stage to be auctioned off for a date night.” Coach made a face, but Ryan held up his hand. “A very PG date night. Just a dinner or a movie, something casual. Show whoever bids on you a good time, but not that good of a time.”

Kruger took it upon himself to announce, “What he’s saying is there will be no hanky-panky of the sexual variety.”

Coach smacked him in the back of the head. “Stop talking.”

He held up his hands. “We both know some of these bros need it spelled out for them, Coach. I was just trying to help you out. But count me out ‘cause I’m married.”

The look on Coach’s face was so irate that I actually laughed. The second it burst from my lips, I was startled, the sound so foreign I scarcely recognized it.

Coach’s hazel eyes shot to mine, his stare a beacon for something unnamed inside me. They were greener than gold today, and even though they were shaded by the hat he wore, I still felt the attention down to my bones. All the laughter inside me dried up, and I swear it was like the whole world around me held its breath.

I rolled my lips in but couldn’t force my gaze from his.

“You think this is funny, Lawson?” he asked, voice less abrasive than when he’d been scolding Kruger.

I shrugged one shoulder.

In the shadows of his hat, his stare softened for the span of a heartbeat, but then he turned away. The loss of his stare, albeit brief, was sort of like being unchained from an anchor.

“Highest bidder gets the date, which will be up to you and the winner to schedule at a time that works for both of you. Obviously, you will have to do it around practices and meets.” Ryan went on.

“I’ll do it!” Vargas raised his hand.

Another hand shot up. “Hell yeah!”

A few others went up.

The whistle blasted. “I didn’t agree to this!” Coach said.

“But, Coach, it’s for charity,” Wes said.

Coach sighed. “You said the dean greenlighted this already?”

Ryan nodded. “With one caveat.”

“This entire team is one caveat,” Coach muttered. “What is it?”

You know, this team was pretty entertaining.

“That you, Coach, agree to be auctioned.”

Wait. What?

Raucous cheering boomed to the ceiling as the entire team went wild with the idea.

Coach blew his whistle until his face was flushed, and I stood there in the middle of the pandemonium, feeling slightly sick.

Ryan wanted to auction off Coach for a date. Hate. Double hate. He’s mine.

“Is your brain waterlogged, son?” Coach asked when he finally came up for air. “There is no way in hell?—”

Oh, good, he won’t do it.

“It was Dean Cardinal’s idea.” Ryan cut off his refusal.

Coach jolted, his reaction visceral. “What?”

“Dean Cardinal thought it would be good because you’re so popular with the staff and around Westbrook. And you know you’re single and?—”

“Ready to mingle!” someone shouted.

Ryan laughed. “Yeah, that.”

“No,” Coach deadpanned.

“Aww, come on, Coach,” Wes prodded.

“It’s for charity,” Landry put in.

Nearby, Lars nodded.

I know I was trying not to hate him, but this just didn’t help.

“ Coach. Coach. Coach. Coach. Coach. Coach .” The chanting filled the natatorium until my stomach was in knots, and I wanted to throw myself in front of him and scream mine!

A fast blip of the whistle and everyone fell quiet. Coach looked at Ryan. “The dean really wants this?”

Ryan nodded. “Elite honor,” he said, laying a hand over his bare chest.

Coach’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “Fine.”

Everyone cheered and yelled, excitement sweeping the room. But I wasn’t excited. I was hurt. And when I was hurt… I got angry.

Remember when I said this team was entertaining? Being dipped in honey and hung naked over a giant red ant pile would be more fun than this.

“Come see me in the locker room if you want to volunteer,” Ryan called.

Coach dismissed everyone to the showers.

I waited until most of the group was already inside and then started forward.

“Lawson,” Coach called when I walked by.

I kept walking.

Phweeeeeee! “Bodhi Lawson. Over here. Now.”

My stomach dipped, a fluttery sensation unfurling inside me. I hated yet still couldn’t suppress the small flicker of hope in me that he was calling me over to apologize. To reassure me that he only agreed because everyone was chanting and cheering. That he was going to tell me even after a week of nothing but lingering glances that I was still who he wanted and that he’d never go out on a date—even a fake one—with anyone.

My bare feet slapped the tile, toes recoiling at the pool water they met as I walked to where he waited. I stopped about an arm’s distance away, and silence dropped between us like an anvil.

I waited, throat tight as I anticipated the words I so badly wanted to hear. He stared at me from beneath that damn hat almost as though he’d forgotten he was the one who’d called me over.

“We need to talk.” His voice was low.

I nodded. “I’ll meet you in your office.”

“No,” he was quick to say. “Here is fine.”

Hurt cut through me like a hot knife in butter. Does he not want to be alone with me?

“How was your first therapy session?”

Disappointment assailed me. Already filled to the brim with so much, I curled my lip. “You mean you didn’t call over there and ask for a full report?”

He made a face. “Of course not. Therapy is private.”

“Then why are you asking me how it went?” I countered.

Several emotions passed over his face. More than once, his lips parted then closed. After a moment, his face smoothed out, and he answered, “I need you in the pool tomorrow at practice.”

The sharp talons of panic punctured my chest, and my eyes flew to the water behind him. It was so still now that no one was in it the surface almost like a mirror.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

My eyes flashed to his. “It doesn’t matter. I said no.”

He took an ever-so-small step toward me. Barely an inch and yet that increase in closeness sent my heart haywire, my pulse so strong I felt it hammering in the side of my neck. “I can’t keep covering for you,” he practically whispered.

He’s been covering for me? “I didn’t ask you to.”

“This is Elite. A division-one swim team. All members must swim. No exceptions.”

Oh, how I’d love to be just one person’s exception.

I started away, my heart in tatters and my stomach in twists.

“Is this about your sister?”

My feet stuttered. The anger I’d been trying to suppress before whooshed through me like I was nothing but a pile of dry kindling. I swung around, feeling the warmth of anger fill me with courage. “What would you know about it?”

“I know trauma takes a lot from a person. Don’t let it take something you love from you.”

My eyes narrowed. “And you think swimming is what I love?” You think it’s why I sit on these godforsaken bleachers every morning at the ass crack of dawn?

The green in his eyes flickered, wariness and something else I couldn’t name. “Isn’t it?”

I exhaled. “Sure, Coach. If that’s what you need to believe.”