HOLLIS
And here I thought my day was pure shit thanks to my coach thinking I’m not ready for trials. Fuck that prick, I’m more ready than I’ve ever been.
Two years ago, my long-time coach, Coach Wilson, was diagnosed with prostate cancer. There was no other option than to quit coaching and take care of himself. However, the cancer was metastatic, spread so fucking quickly, and took his life within two months. Two months. Two months to attempt to say thank you and goodbye. It was fucking devastating, not just because I had to find a new coach, but because I lost a very important man in my life, someone who’d been by my side since I can remember. He knew me as Knobby Knees Knightly. I miss him.
Now I have a coach who has made it his mission to make my life miserable.
Why stick around with him? Coach Wilson set me up with him. It’s fucking crazy to think this way but a part of me believes that being with my current coach, Coach Ted, keeps me close to Coach Wilson, as if Coach Ted carries a bit of his soul inside him.
Fucking insane, I know, but I can’t seem to let go, which means I deal with the prick on a daily basis.
I’m not going to lie; I’m bit of a princess at times. I know what I like. I know how I want to be spoken to, and I’ve worked hard to get where I am today, so I have the right to be cocky. I also have the right to be coddled.
Yeah, coddled.
Pet my ego, make me feel good. I prefer my coach to praise me, not lift his head with a barely there nod if I do well. A well-executed knuckle blast is more appreciated, but Coach Ted doesn’t get that despite the countless times I’ve told him.
Instead, the fucker has me doing extra sets of dryland training, flipping onto a mat over and over again. I’m sore as shit, volatile in the worst way, and hungry.
I’m always hungry.
On the way home, I stopped by my favorite burger joint, grabbed two pablono burger sans bun with Cheddar-Jack cheese, skipped the fries, and came home to my condo. Searing with anger from coach’s tactics today, it all dissipated when I spotted the little sun-kissed brunette that’s been starring in my dreams for the past six months.
Seeing that sultry ass in minuscule jean shorts instantly evaporated my shit mood. What the hell is she doing here?
“Well, isn’t it the little salad ruiner herself? I know, I’m handsome as fuck but that doesn’t mean you get to stare all you want,” I tease, snapping her out of her bent-over position, mouth agape. Yeah, I could have made a cruder comment but I held back.
Standing tall and brushing her hands on her shorts, she says, “What are you doing here? Are you stalking me now?”
“If I were stalking you I sure as fuck wouldn’t be doing it by a dumpster.”
She shifts, her hand on her hip, definitely on the defensive. “Just tell me why you’re here.”
Looking around the parking lot and then back to her, I clutch my food bag in my hand and lean forward. “I live here, fudge nuggets.”
Her eyes widen and then scowl. “Don’t call me fudge nuggets.”
“What do you prefer? Love handles?”
“No.” Her scowl deepens.
“Sausage snuggler? Kissy kibbles? Juicy cakes? Licky lovestick?”
Irritation is boiling out of her now. “Are you deranged? What makes you think I want to be referred to as sausage snuggler or licky lovestick?”
“Does that mean you like kissy kibbles and juicy cakes?”
I receive the deepest eye-roll I’ve ever seen just before she pushes me out of the way and starts maneuvering her boxes into the recycling bin.
“I’m going to take that as a no.”
“Take that as a go to hell,” she mutters under her breath.
“Whoa.” I hold up my hands. “That’s a little hostile for someone who was just staring at my crotch for ten minutes.”
Standing tall, she says, “I was not staring at your crotch.”
“Hey, it’s okay. No need to be embarrassed. I have the kind of crotch worth staring at. Just try to keep it under five minutes next time. It gets a little awkward if your staring is any longer than that.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up. I take a quick glance, because fuck, I’m a man, and then direct my attention back to her stormy eyes. I know I’m not making friends, but shit, I like the fire I see.
“Where do you get off—?”
“Lately in my hand with an image of you in my mind, but I would love to make that dream a reality.”
“I can’t take you.” Turning back around, she huffs and begins struggling with the boxes again.
Being the gentleman I am, I set my food down, hoping my burgers don’t get cold, and lend her a hand. As I reach over to open the dumpster, she swings a flattened cardboard box up at the same time, knocking me in the corner of my eye with the edge of the box, sending me backward into a pile of trash outside the garbage dumpster.
I can feel the trickle of blood running down my face just as the shock wears off and pain takes its place. My eye waters. Rotten garbage—that’s probably been out in the steaming sun all day—surrounds me, and the sweet sound of Melony’s laughter fills my ears. Through my swelling eye, I see her with her hands over her mouth, trying to hold back her giggles as she attempts to look sincere with regret.
“I didn’t know you were into assaulting men lending you a helping hand.”
“I didn’t assault you,” she says still giggling.
I point to my face. “My eye begs to differ. I’m actually . . .” I pause and start to sway back and forth. “I’m feeling . . .” I don’t finish my sentence, instead, I roll off the stank mountain and onto the asphalt in front of me. Don’t worry, I have to take a shower anyway. I lie there flat, pretending to have passed out, hoping Melony will play naughty nurse and try to take care of me.
What I don’t expect is for her to walk to up me and toe me in the side. “What are you doing down there?”
I don’t move. Act like a possum; act like a possum.
She fucking toes me again, this time a little harder, nudging my body. “Hey, stop messing around and get up. I think you’re lying on pee.”
I don’t smell pee, so she’s lying. I don’t take the bait. I continue to play dead.
“Hollis,” she warns. Note to self, bedside manner is not her strength. Her foot pushes me harder, rocking my body back and forth. “Are you seriously going to make me squat down?”
Fuck yes, I am.
Huffing with irritation, she squats next to me and pushes my shoulder with her fingers. Her gentle concern is overwhelming.
“Will you get up and stop acting like a dickhead?”
Turning my head to the side, I glance up. She rolls her eyes about to retreat when I wrap my arm around her waist, roll over, and position her so she’s sitting on my stomach, my hands holding her hips in place.
“What the hell?”
“I need to be nursed back to health. Quick, smother me with your breasts. It’s the only cure to my concussion.”
“You don’t have a concussion.”
“How do you know? I’m dizzy, faint. I have a headache. I think I blacked out. Put your breast in my mouth, it will help me remember things.”
Her expression changes from irritated to something I would describe as evil. Right then and there I quiver in my shorts. I don’t think I’m going to like what happens next.
Leaning forward, she gives me the perfect view of her breasts. On the contrary, maybe I will like what she does next.
Breast to the mouth; come on, breast to the mouth.
Her hands ride up my chest and I brace for one of her boobs to pop out of the deep V of her tank top. Fuck they’re so perky. What do they look like without a bra?
Her fingers play with my hard pecs and right when I think she might lean down and kiss me, she pinches my right nipple. Hard.
“Oh fuck, that hurt!” I yell, quickly swatting her away and rubbing out my sore spot . . . but also kind of liking the fact that she likes nipple play. A sly smile spreads across my face quickly eliminating the hurt expression. “You know, cuddle muffin, if you like nipple play, I can really dive deep into that fantasy for you.”
Getting up, she rolls her eyes and says, “You’re so annoying.”
I stand up as well and dab at my eye. The blood seems to have stopped but I still milk it, wincing with every touch of my finger. “Annoying isn’t as bad as hate, so I’ll take it.”
Back in a defensive position, she says, “Actually there is a thin line between hate and love that’s often blurred. Annoying is just annoying.”
I step closer and give her my mega-watt smile. “Aw, sweetums, are you trying to tell me you love me? It’s a little early but I can’t blame you. Come here, give Big Daddy a kiss.”
I reach for her hand but she swiftly steps away, muttering, “Oh, for Christ’s sake.”
“Where you going? You have some boxes that still need recycling.”
She gives me a once-over and says, “I’m pretty sure you can handle it.”
Sauntering away, I stare at her perky little ass and call out, “See you around, neighbor.”
There is no response and I wonder if I pushed her too far. That’s until I see her turn around and give me one last look. It’s just a glance, but that’s all I fucking need. Just that little glance lets me know I haven’t pushed her too far, that I actually have a shot at being with this woman.
And I really want that shot.