Coach Me by Shanora Williams

Author:Shanora Williams [Williams, Shanora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shanora Williams
Published: 2020-05-09T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-EIGHT

I send Mama a text, letting her know I’ve stopped by a friend’s house for a quick visit. I hate lying to her. We have an unspoken honesty policy. We are always honest with each other, but there is no way in hell she can know that I’ve run into my coach at a hotel on a Saturday night. It would raise way too many questions.

I climb out of the car, park across the street from the hotel and pay for a parking ticket for four hours before crossing the street and reaching the door of the hotel.

Inside, it’s serene. The place shines with gold light from the chandeliers, the floors made of marble. The walls are painted ivory, and there is a concierge by the door.

I hear glasses clinking and people laughing in unison and look to my left. There’s a bar, and it’s crowded with men in business suits and women in dresses. It’s lined up with people in casual clothing and sitting amongst the casual is Torres himself. He’s the most casual, in his blue jeans, long-sleeved black sweater, and black Nikes.

I draw in a breath, standing at the entrance of the bar. “This is stupid,” I mutter. I look down at my clothes. A tan sweater, dark jeans, and UGG boots.

I’m sure the last person he wants to see is me. And what will he even think if he sees me here? He’ll probably assume I’m stalking him because of that one kiss.

I start to turn back, that is until I see a woman come close to him and say something as she rests her elbow on the counter, practically pointing her bosom in his face.

He looks at her and shakes his head, gives a dry response, and she seems utterly taken aback. She stares at him a second longer and then walks away, meeting a group of friends who clearly came from the club next door by the way they’re dressed. She seems annoyed, openly ranting to her friends about him.

I move ahead, getting rid of my nerves. The stool to his right is open and I pull it back and then sit on it.

“So, what asshole-ish thing did you say to piss off an entire group of club banging girls?” I don’t even know how my sentence comes out so practiced, as if flirting with older guys comes naturally to me.

Newsflash, it doesn’t. I’m never this witty, but seeing him turn down one girl makes me feel like I have to compete to hold his attention. It’s silly, really. I doubt I need to compete. Me being here will be surprise enough for him.

Torres turns his head and his brown eyes land right on mine. His irises sparkle from the glowing lights behind the bar that show off the liquor.

“Wow. I must be really fucking drunk,” he says with a chuckle, then he sips the drink he has in hand. He raises a hand after draining the glass and the bartender pops up. He requests a refill and the bartender tops him off with whiskey.

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