FUMBLE
Gillian
IT WAS SUCH a girl thing to obsess over a guy.
In my freshman year of college, I had this roommate who was infatuated with this boy she knew from high school.
She talked about him all the time. I still remember his name. Mike Talone. That was how much she talked about him. She went out where she knew he’d be, just so she could run into him. She waited in front of the window in the stairwell of the academic building between classes until she saw him coming down the sidewalk, just so she could see him.
The whole thing was crazy.
It drove me mad.
If he liked her, he would have asked her out, taken her up on one of her dozens of offers to have sex, said hello to her for heaven’s sake.
He never did.
I often wondered if she was still obsessing over him.
But now I felt like karma was being a real bitch because here I was unable to stop thinking about Lucas. It had been three days since our date, which wasn’t really a date. Other than coming down for therapy each morning, I hadn’t seen him. He hadn’t said a word to me other than what was necessary, and nothing about that night. Not about the stream, or the bridge, or the kiss.
God, I really hated when I acted so much like a girl.
Feelings were so not my thing.
Shaking it off, him off, because I wasn’t going to be like my freshman roommate and obsess, I got to work getting ready for the players’ first week de-stress session.
Every year my father marked the weeks of training camp with a special event. The first one was always something to make the players laugh. The second one was a night off. The rest depended on where he was in the team selection process and what he had left to accomplish.
Marking week one last year, my father had a synchronized swim instructor come with her class of women, who were all in their sixties and seventies, to teach the guys how to do skulls, the egg beater, and even lifts.
It was really funny.
To mark the completion of week one this year, I would be teaching yoga to the players. As Drake and I pulled the mats from the cart and started setting them on the floor of the college basketball court, I took a certain satisfaction in knowing whom I was going to use to help demonstrate at least one of the moves.
I couldn’t wait.
Payback.
The door swung open. “Who wants to take bets on how much junk is going to be hanging out all over this floor?” Austin asked as he strode in the room.
Austin was the third athletic trainer intern. This was his first year at any football camp and it was proving to be an experience for him, and us. To be honest, I wasn’t sure he liked it very much.
I was busy arranging the college-owned yoga mats on the floor when I glanced up to speak. “None, I hope. The email that went out to the players was very specific. It stated they should not wear their baggy gym clothes. That tight clothes were recommended.”
Austin grinned. “Yeah, like I said, let’s see how many show up ready for their junk to fall out.”
Drake shook his head. He didn’t really like Austin and his carefree attitude very much. “Hey, Gillian,” he said.
I looked over my shoulder at him. “Yes.”
“What’s the reasoning behind wearing tight clothes, other than Austin’s concern?”
Straightening the corner of the last mat, I stood. “It makes it easier for me to see how a student’s body is set all the way from their shoulder blades to their feet. That way I can easily help adjust the pose if I need to.”
“Makes sense.”
“You should come with me to a class. There’s a studio in Bourbonnais that I really like. I go on Wednesday nights after dinner.”
He made a face. “I want to, but I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Are there any guys in the class?”
I laughed. “Sure, there are a lot more than you’d think. Come with me this week and if you don’t want to take the class, you can wait in the coffee shop next door.”
Drake glanced at the mats laid throughout the room. “I’ll think about it.”
“The coffee shop also sells boba teas.”
He walked toward the front. “Sold. I’ll go with you.”
“What the hell is bobboo?” Austin asked.
“It’s boba, and it’s a tea mixed with fruit or milk, to which chewy tapioca balls and fruit jellies are added. It’s delicious and really good for you.”
Austin plopped down on one of the mats. He, like Drake, was here to help me with the class. Liam, the second assistant trainer, was supposed to join us as well, but he wasn’t here. That was fine because other than Drake knowing a tiny bit, neither the interns nor the trainers were familiar with yoga, so it wasn’t like they were going to be able to help.
“You should wrap your legs around your head while the players are walking in. That would totally freak them out,” Austin said, while doing a few sit ups.
That wasn’t a bad idea. In fact I was totally going to do that.
Drake shot him a glare. “Stop sweating on the mats and work out on your own time.”
“Austin,” I said, “why don’t you get the water bottles and place one in front of each mat.”
I wasn’t in charge, but Austin needed someone to lead him. All the time. He got easily distracted, and this annoyed Drake. I chose to take Austin for what he was, which to be honest I hadn’t quite figured out yet.
“Yeah, sure. I’m on it,” he said eagerly.
Today was Sunday. My father always allowed for prayer time in the morning. Players were invited to attend a service at the college chapel after breakfast. It was strongly encouraged, although not required.
Lucas did attend after he met with me in the training center. He looked good in a suit.
There were no position meetings on Sundays, which allowed the guys to sleep a little later. And there was also only one practice, but it was an hour longer than usual. At least, the afternoons were free. However, all the players were required to attend the mandatory team dinner at six.
The clock struck three and Drake opened the gym doors to a horde of big players in various states of dress. Some sported cycling gear, some wore their football girdle without pads, others had on basketball shorts.
They swarmed in and found their places without me having to say a word. Lucas took a position on the end, third row back.
Was he hiding?
Keeping his distance on purpose?
I think he was.
Still, I had found him, and I allowed myself a second to look at him, but only one. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt and a black football girdle. God, the shape of his biceps and his quads were incredible. He wasn’t huge, huge, like a lot of the guys. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t small. No, he was just right.
See, I was obsessing.
I couldn’t stand it.
This had to stop.
Deciding against the Eka pada sirsasana yoga pose, or the leg behind the head move that Austin had suggested, I moved to the front center of the room and sat in Eka pada sirasana or easy pose, which was a basic seated yoga posture.
Everyone followed me, sitting down, but very few of them folded their legs. That was fine. “Namaste, Bears,” I said loudly. “I’m Gillian, for those of you who don’t know me. And welcome to Yoga for beginners.”
There were some waves, a few groans, and a lot of laughs. All to be expected.
Austin’s job was to video the class for playback during the season. These first week treats were always good for a laugh by the end of the season.
Drake was walking around the perimeter of the room. He had no specific role except to help anyone who required it if I was otherwise occupied.
“Before we start, who here has taken a Yoga class?”
There were more hands than I expected, and Lucas’s was among them. Of course I would notice his as one of the first.
Seriously, what was wrong with me?
“Good. Great. So for some of you this class might be too easy,” I said.
The players laughed, and I did too.
“Yoga,” I said, “is a bona fide science. One of the things it concentrates on is matching your movements to your breathing. Remember, with each breath you can let go of anything.”
The music was quiet and peaceful.
Smartly, I had worn gray yoga pants and a black high neck tank top. It wasn’t like I was going to wear what I normally would to yoga in front of ninety guys. I wasn’t a cheerleader, after all.
And yes that was a dig. I really disliked the way they strutted around with their boobs and asses hanging out. Couldn’t stand it, actually. Besides, it was distracting for the players. The girls would be arriving next Sunday, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
Uggg.
“Okay guys,” I started, “we’re going to begin today with a seated position on your mat. Starting with our seated cat/cow, inhale, open the chest, exhale, rounding the spine, tuck the chin down. Inhale, open, exhale, take it down.”
The player closest to me went by the name Preacher. He was a veteran and really liked to talk, more like preach. Which was how he got his nickname. “Like this?” he whispered.
I nodded and smiled at him. “Just like that.”
For the next ten minutes I added moves to this basic pose, and then we all lied down on our backs.
“No sleeping,” someone yelled.
“Really?” I said, “I thought it was nap time.”
The guys chuckled.
“Grab your right knee and hug it into your chest,” I instructed.
I hadn’t so much as looked at Lucas since the class started, but I did now, and when I did, I caught him looking at me. Of course I was teaching the class, and that could be why, but the smoldering look he gave me when our gazes locked wasn’t one a student gives a teacher.
Barefoot, with his leg pressed to his chest and his blue eyes blazing in my direction, I wanted to crawl across the floor and lie down next to him. I wanted to roll on top of him and straddle him. I wanted to bend down and kiss him, using my tongue to taste him. Not anything like that childish peck I’d given him nights ago. No, I wanted full-on mouth and teeth and tongue.
Unable to resist, I smiled at him, and when he gave me that easy smile of his in return, not only did my chest do that pitter-patter thing, but this time my belly did too.
Focus.
I had to focus.
Although I didn’t want to, I tore my gaze from his. “Warming up the ankle, we’re going to roll it around,” I told the class.
Ten more minutes passed before we got to our feet, and by now everyone was loose, and having fun. “Okay, who knows what a Mountain Pose is?” I asked the guys.
The rookie draft I’d met the first day, Dylan Kutchner, raised his hand.
I smiled at him, glad to see him back on his feet and in full recovery. “Dylan, come on up and show us,” I smiled.
He was confident and didn’t hesitate. “Girl, I told you before, it’s Kutch,” he said with a smirk as he walked toward me.
Some of the guys chatted among themselves. Some drank water. Others laughed. It was all good.
“Okay, Kutch, show these guys how it’s done.”
“Sure, girl,” he said. “I got this down.”
As if liking the attention, he made a show of stretching, cracking his muscles, moving his neck from side to side, and then he stood with his feet together and his arms at his sides. And stood, and stood, and stood.
“What comes next, Kutch?” I posed.
There was a blank look on his face.
I moved closer to him and took hold of his arms to show him. “Like this,” I said. “As you inhale, elongate and extend your arms up, then out.” I paused to look around.
Everyone was laughing now, but they were also trying to mimic the pose.
This session was doing what it was meant to do—help everyone unwind from a stressful week.
“Great,” I announced. “Now, exhale and release your shoulder blades away from your head before you drop your arms back to your sides.”
Drake was helping a few guys who were having trouble getting it.
“Good,” I said, letting go of Kutch’s arms and looking at the players. “Try this a few more times. It only looks easy. I promise you it’s not. It requires a lot of balance.”
Kutch laughed. For six-foot-six and over two hundred and sixty pounds, he had a lot to balance, after all. “Girl, all this time I thought I was doing yoga with that move I showed you.”
One of my brows rose and I tried to laugh. “And where did you learn it like that?”
He gave me a shy shrug. “Probably best if I don’t say.”
Now we laughed together, and I gave him a shove. “Go back to your spot.”
As I was bringing my focus to the front, I caught Lucas’s gaze again. This time it was different. Fierce. Hard. He was deliberately tracing the lines of my body with his eyes. I felt that look as if he were touching me, and I shivered.
Quickly, I averted my stare.
He was too distracting.
I had to remember not to look his way.
Next, as a group, we did a few more poses. Then I brought some guys up front to demonstrate a series of my difficult moves before allowing the players to experiment themselves.
Some fell.
Some got stuck.
Some couldn’t even comprehend how their body could move that way.
They were all having fun.
After we finished the more difficult moves, I clapped my hands together to get their attention. “Okay, let’s do one more pose, and then you guys are free to go. Any suggestions?”
“Downward dog. Downward dog. Downward dog,” they started chanting.
“Okay,” I said, “Downward dog it is.”
Taking a sip of water, I then asked, “Who wants to try this one in front of the class?” I had much fewer volunteers this time around, and although Lucas’s hand was not raised, I picked him anyway. “Carrington,” I said, purposely not using his first name so it wouldn’t come across as intimate.
That blue gaze narrowed on me. I smiled and crooked a finger, trying to remain as playful as I had been with Kutch. He hesitated, but when someone gave him a shove in my direction, he started to walk to the front.
As soon as he was standing beside me, I could feel a ripple of lust explode through my body. Hoping like hell I wasn’t flushing from head to toe, I tried to keep my voice even when I spoke. “This is one of the most recognizable yoga poses. It is a great way to stretch your back, shoulders, arms, hamstrings and well, just about everything, as well as keep you calm and centered.”
Without waiting for my cue, Lucas got on his hands and knees, and the guys followed his lead.
“Okay,” I said, “remember to align your wrists directly under your shoulders and your knees directly under your hips as you push up.”
Damn him, but Lucas had gone into full position before I had even finished talking.
“Don’t forget to point your middle fingers directly to the edge of your mat.”
That was a huge hit and FU’s were flying all around.
“Stretch your elbows . . . exhale as you tuck your toes . . .” I walked the players through each couple of steps. “Okay, now press the floor away from you as you lift through your pelvis. Draw your chest toward your thighs. Engage your quads.”
I went on and on, stealing glances at Lucas, who was full on staring at me.
“Your gaze should be between your legs or toward your navel.” I directed this to the class, but he knew it was at him because he looked away.
Bodies were moving in every direction.
“Don’t forget to align your ears with your upper arms, and when you release, gently bend your knees and come back to your hands and knees,” I said to everyone.
Some of the guys collapsed, some rolled onto each other’s mats, others rolled over and stayed on their backs. They were all laughing. It was chaos. “If you couldn’t maintain it, try again,” I instructed.
While they were attempting to re-pose themselves, I got down on my knees and brought my mouth close to Lucas’s ear. “Don’t forget to breathe.”
He glanced over with his blue eyes blazing. “Be in your room tonight at nine, and leave the door unlocked.”
The warm buzz of his demand, of being so close to him, hit me quickly, and I had to swallow before I could even try to tell him that I absolutely would not.
“Answer me,” he said, his voice husky.
“You didn’t ask me a question,” I responded in a low shaky tone. It wasn’t what I should have said, but I couldn’t form the words to reject him.
Collapsing to his hands and knees, he kept his gaze on me. “I want to see you, Gillian. Alone. Do you want to see me?”
Gillian. Had he called me by name yet?
I bit my lip, letting my tongue sneak out, and the sound he made was almost that of a growl.
His question got me, and I knew there was simply no other answer, so I whispered, “Yes.”
He smiled at me then, and it was so damn seductive that I wasn’t sure I could get up off the floor.
But I did, and so did he. And then he walked back to his spot without a backward glance.
I didn’t care.
Class was over and I was feeling as fluttery as the teenage girl I never was. He wanted to see me. Alone. We both knew what that meant.
And in that moment I allowed myself to think it was okay. That what we were going to do was okay. But in the back of my mind, even I had to question my judgment . . .
Because I knew it really, really wasn’t.