Page 17

SEVENTEEN

ELI

Asking Becca to go to dinner with me is probably a terrible decision, but the words spill out before I can suck them back in.

Friends.

If I can keep it to just that, then I’ll consider it a win.

The truth is there’s a nagging insecurity left over from today scratching at my insides, threatening to swallow me whole. My heart pumps faster at the thought that I wasn’t good enough, didn’t live up to everyone’s expectations. Again. And for some reason, the thought of talking to Becca about it feels like it will help. Maybe because she’s one of the only people in my life who’s always 100 percent real. She always has been, even back when we were kids.

There’s no ulterior motive to my offer. I really do want to talk about practice and how I handled my first day as a coach.

It’s stupid.

I should just meet up with Connor. Or Sarah. But they weren’t there today, and I’m not interested in another person who will just tell me what I want to hear. Becca definitely won’t do that.

“Where do you wanna go?” she asks.

I shrug. “Wherever is fine with me.”

“There’s a good spot about ten minutes from here that has the best burritos.” She pats her stomach and grins.

Sparks burst through my chest at her smile. “Sounds good.”

I park next to her when we get there, watching as she hops out of her car and prances over to my driver’s side window, miming for me to roll it down.

“Lot of people here,” I say.

She nods, her eyes scanning the groups filling the patio tables. “Yep. Lotta students, too.”

I hear what she’s not saying with the words, and I palm the back of my neck. This wasn’t the best idea. She’s probably right, I shouldn’t be seen with her, especially since I’ve already bent her over a sink and fucked her until she couldn’t speak. If whispers started, there wouldn’t be a way to keep my guilt under wraps. I’ve always had a shit poker face.

She leans into the window of my car, her arms resting along the frame, fingers dangling inside the door. From this angle, I’m level with her chest, and I can’t help where my eyes go. Her tits are just right there .

I swallow hard, visions of them in my hands as I impale her from behind filling my mind. My mouth runs dry and I shift in my seat.

“Eyes up here, friend.”

My gaze snaps to Becca’s face.

“Maybe we should get the burritos to go? I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be eatin’ together at places crawlin’ with students.”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” She grins. “I’ll go in and grab the food. But I get to pick, and you’ll just have to suffer through whatever I choose for you. I’ll follow you back to your place?”

She sashays away before I can protest, and my gut jolts at the thought of her being in my house. Alone. With me.

This is a terrible idea , I tell myself again.

My mind knows it and repeats it to the rest of my body on a loop, but it doesn’t stop the thrill of anticipation at the thought of having her all to myself.

She comes out with a bag of food and I start my car, reversing out of the lot and driving home, my nerves making my foot jerky on the gas pedal. I glance in the rearview mirror as I turn on my street, making sure she’s following me.

Once I’m in my driveway, I blow out a breath, my knuckles tightening around the steering wheel as I give myself a pep talk.

You can do this, Eli. There’s nothing wrong with being friends.

I step out of my car and lean against the side, watching as Becca stares at my house with wide eyes.

“Whew, buddy.” She whistles. “This is quite the place you got here. I didn’t realize assistant coaches had such a nice salary.”

I shrug. “NBA pays well.”

Her eyes squint. “You didn’t play in it very long.”

“Doesn’t matter. Contract was guaranteed, regardless of injury.” I wave my arm toward the door. “Let’s go inside before the food gets cold.”

I’m not uncomfortable with the amount of money I have. I was paid out my forty-four-million-dollar contract from New York, and I’m set for life, which is just one of the reasons why I wish Lee wouldn’t fight me so damn hard when I send them money every month. If she’d take a second to listen to what I’m always trying to say to her, or ask questions about me instead of demanding things for everyone else, maybe she’d get where I’m coming from a little bit more.

Becca makes it sound like she’s been struggling. Lee even makes it sound like they’ve been struggling, so I don’t know why she’s being so hardheaded. I can help. I want to help, and I wish she’d understand that. But I guess that would involve her looking outside the bubble where only her issues matter.

Becca and I settle in quickly, eating our burritos on the living room floor with our backs against the couch. I’m relieved that she isn’t asking for a tour and that she hasn’t said anything else about the size of my empty house. It doesn’t really mean much anyway, not without anything or anyone to fill it.

“I know you’ve been dyin’ to ask me. So go for it.” Becca pats her mouth with a napkin and leans back on her elbows.

“Ask you what?”

She squints her eyes. “Don’t you wanna know what I thought about your supreme coachin’ skills? Stroke that ego of yours a bit, and make your head swell ten times its normal size?”

My body heats, arousal flaring through every inch of me. That mouth of hers makes words sound so damn filthy.

“If you insist.” I smirk and glance down at my lap.

Becca scoffs and reaches over, pushing me playfully. “Not like that, nasty. And your sister calls me crass. Come on, Eli. You bleed basketball. It’s the only thing runnin’ through those veins. Don’t need me to say how obvious it is to everyone around you.”

The smile drops off my face, the playful mood withering away as self-doubt wrings my insides tight.

I used to think that, but now…how can I be sure?

She blinks at me, her lips turning down. “You really don’t see yourself right, do you?”

“I see myself as anyone else.” My fingers play with the napkin next to my plate, and I shred it into tiny little pieces, not wanting to look her in the eyes while we talk.

“What are you worried about, then?”

Now my gaze does snap up. “Who says I’m worried about anything?”

She tsks. “You don’t have to say it, Eli. It’s clear as day on that pretty face of yours.”

A grin tugs my lips. “Pretty?”

She groans. “You just gonna repeat everything I say all night, or can we have an actual conversation for once?”

I lean my back against the foot of the couch, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know, Becca. I guess I just want to hear that it didn’t seem like I was an imposter. Basketball is all I’ve known. It’s all I’ve lived and breathed since Pops found out I could dribble the ball. But…I’m only a few years older than the guys on the team, and I know if it were me, it’d be hard to respect that out of the gate. Besides, when it comes down to it, in the big leagues, I couldn’t hack it.”

Her brows draw in. “You got hurt, Eli. That’s hardly a failure.”

I huff out a laugh. “Yeah? Tell that to the expectations lingering on my back.”

She scoots next to me, placing her hand on mine and squeezing. Tingles race up my arm, my heart slamming against my ribs at her touch.

“Eli, those boys don’t care about your injury or your age. They worship you. If you could have seen the way their eyes lit up with every word you spoke…” She trails off, shaking her head.

A bit of my doubt chips away with her words. “You really think so?”

“I know so. If I could feel your passion, there’s no way they didn’t.”

My eyes flick over her face, from the freckles on her nose to the sharp gaze of her emerald irises. She’s so close I can feel the heat of her energy zapping along my side, trying to lure me into its embrace.

God, I want to kiss her. My mouth waters at the thought.

Friends.

I clear my throat and scoot back instead. “Well, thanks. I hope I can live up to how you think they see me.”

Her features dim as I say it, nodding her head as she jumps up, gathering the trash from our meal.

I let her, not knowing what to say, not daring to act on the things I want.

Because what I want is to pull her into my arms. Apologize for not realizing the way she’s always lit me up inside. For not voicing how damn beautiful she’s always been, and not doing something about it when I had the chance. For not being able to do anything about it now.

What I want is to dive deep inside her and stay there until she admits she feels this just as much as I do.

But I can’t.

So I let her clean up as I open a bottle of wine and take it to the patio, overlooking the coast. I’ll sink into a make-believe world where every fiber of my being doesn’t reach out to fuse with hers.

I’ll settle for her friendship and pretend that it’s enough.