“Creating workout programs for individuals. Have you had to do that in any of your classes?”
“Uh, not that I can think of. No.” He pushed open the doors to one of the weight rooms, the room filled with around ten athletes. I recognized most of them from the sidelines. I almost knew all their names. “Do you do that?”
“It isn’t required for being an AT. However, it makes you significantly more useful to any program if you have experience doing it. I’m certified to create meal plans and do individual workouts. Want to learn?”
“Hell yeah.” I beamed so wide it hurt my face. “Of course, I do.”
“That a girl. I figured you would.” His grin matched mine as he led me to a wall of clipboards. “Let’s do it.”
The afternoon flew by, and the new information fascinated me because I had little experience with it. We went through chart after chart, numbers and measurements and reps. I worked with Andre, Conner, and Dylan. They all had massive gains in resistance and strength training. Brock yelled and pushed and bossed them around. But the best part was watching the athletes’ faces when they did it. It was pure elation at pushing yourself past the point you thought you could go.
It reminded me again why I wanted to do this career. Moments like this. The deep passion ingrained in our DNA that made us want to be better despite our odds. I wanted to find that passion and exploit it to push them. As Brock debriefed with the athletes, my brain raced. Could I ever be as good at this as he was? Probably not. But that was okay. I would try and try again.
I didn’t enjoy football as much as baseball. I needed to begin researching workout programs for those sports. Then, go through ones per position and how they differed by body type. I wanted to do it all at that moment.
“Grace?”
Brock’s voice woke me from my whirling day dream. “What did ya think?”
“So freaking cool. I want to do that. I wouldn’t even know where to start. How do you get trained? God, you were awesome. You knew how to push them and what to say,” I gushed, totally fangirling over his talents. “I must say, I’m glad you didn’t get hit too hard to lose that brain of yours. It’s impressive.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever complimented my brain before,” he said with a smug but pleased look coming over his face.
I waited until we went back into his office before replying. “Big brains are awesome. The bigger the better.”
His eyes darkened, and he sucked in one of his cheeks. “What else are you into?”
“Uh, are we still talking about big brains right now?” I looked at the door to ignore the lines between us blurring. Were we flirting still? Or did he mean career wise?
“We can be talking about anything you want.” He sat on his desk, his chest bulging out. “So far, I’ve calculated you like big brains, ice cream, coffee, and working. What else are you drawn to?”
“Challenges. I love someone who challenges themselves and those around them to be better.” I stood, a wave of passion and pride going through me. “You were amazing with those athletes, and when their faces contorted with pain right before they broke through. Man. I love passionate people. It could be about comic books, their family, dogs or knitting. Having a passion is one of the luckiest things in the world.”
“What’s your passion, Grace?” he asked in a soft voice.
“I’m figuring that out.” I smiled, crossing my arms and eyeing his large body. “But, I really like learning from you.”
“Yeah, I like teaching you.” He looked pleased as he glanced at his watch. I, too, saw it was already past three. Time flew when I was here. He sighed, running a hand through his thick hair. “You ready to head out? You have class now, yeah?”
I shouldered my backpack and pulled my headphones out of my front pocket. “Yes. It hardly seems fair I have to go to class after all that work.”
“Are you walking?” He eyed my appearance as he frowned. “I can drive you.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I can walk. It’s beautiful outside.” I gripped the backpack and fought the urge to click my heels. His offer was so cute.
“Come on. I want to drive you.” He grabbed his keys and gave me a sheepish smile. “Please?”
“Ugh.” I rolled my eyes. “Only because you asked nicely. Oh, and because of your brain.”
“A guys gotta do what a guy’s gotta do,” he said, cheerily opening the door for me and leading me down to the garage. “I forgot how exciting it was to do this stuff.”
“What do you mean?” I asked as I hopped into the front seat.
“I got forced into it, really. I thought I would be playing in the NFL right now, not working as an athletic trainer at my alma mater. It became a way to be around the sport I was unable to play. It wasn’t a passion or a dream. It just was. But, watching the joy on your face and answering your questions is reminding me I’m lucky. It’s a pretty cool job.”
I smiled at him, patting his arm and squeezing it. His face held no resentment or sadness; just acceptance. “I’m also super dorky.”
Instead of answering with a joke, he dropped a bomb on me. A major feels bomb. “Your joy and positivity are contagious.”
My face warmed in the most pleasant way. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We drove in silence to my class. It wasn’t that long of a drive, and when I went to unbuckle my seatbelt, Brock put a hand on my knee. I froze, his body turning toward me with wild eyes. Oh, hot damn. “I didn’t have the best intentions when I demanded to drive you.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” I gulped, my heart picking up as he slowly closed the distance between our mouths. I held my breath, suddenly needing him to kiss me.
“Want to get ice cream after class? I won’t lie and come up with something. We can talk about the training part, meal plans, or why you own weird socks.”
I snorted. “I do not own weird socks.”
“Yes, you do. They had gold balls on them.”
“They are snitches. From Harry Potter.” I tilted my head, looking at him like he spoke another language. “You’ve read them, right? If you say no, I’ll quit.”
“Shit. Uh,” He paused, running his hand through his hair with a grimace. “No. I haven’t.”
“Good lord. You had a shitty childhood.”
“I played football. I didn’t read,” he said, like that explained everything.
“That is not an excuse, Brock. You’re missing out on an entire generation. I can’t have my boss not understand my references. Nope. I’m officially angry,” I joked, seeing his brows come together with worry. I left the car, giving him one more wave. “Brock, you look worried. I’m just joking with you.”
“Will you curse me with a magic wand if I don’t read them?” he had the gall to ask with a cocky smile.
“Asshole. Bye, Brock.” I laughed. He might annoy me, but he could really make me laugh. Damn him.
Chapter Sixteen
“Grace, come up here for a minute.” My professor greeted me without a frown. That had to be a good sign, right? I shoved my phone in my pocket, making the short walk up to the podium.
“Please tell me you received the completed project. If not, I might throw up.”
“I did. Don’t worry.” He laughed, shuffling some papers on the stand. “It was a hell of a project. You seem to be doing incredibly well working at the stadium. You’re halfway done there. How is it working out for you so far?”
My thoughts immediately went to Brock, but I didn’t think a college professor would appreciate that answer. “It has been amazing. Really helping me narrow down what I want to do.”
“Have you contemplated teaching?” He raised a brow, chuckling at my bemused expression.
“Uh, no.” I looked at the ground, holding back a cackle. “What makes you say that?”
“Your presentation was phenomenal, and clearly you’re passionate about the subject. It was just something I thought of. My sister is the athletic trainer for a h
igh school in Ohio. She does everything you do at the internship, but she also gets to teach classes to kids interested in the field.”
“Yeah, I took a sports med class in high school. I liked it. But, teaching?” I scrunched my nose. “I never thought about it.”
“Don’t stress yourself out. I thought I’d ask. I could see you doing quite well there. I have a contact at the high school in the area if you want to check it out. You would just need to get an emergency certification. Let me know.” He patted the podium, ending our conversation, and I went to sit at my normal seat right in the front. I was a nerd like that, but now my mind was bouncing all over the place.
Teaching?
High schoolers?
Gilly always talked about the stress of teaching little ones, and I never thought of myself as teachery—if that was even a word. There wasn’t a lot of money in it, but then again, you had to make it to the best of the best schools to get a good salary as a trainer, and that wouldn’t happen for years. Ugh. More questions about the future, just what I needed.
Thankfully, the lecture was interesting enough to capture my attention. I took notes, made a list of homework to complete that night at the coffee shop, and before I knew it, class was over.
A new bubble floated through my stomach, pure nerves about seeing Anderson. I shoved my notebook into my backpack and went to leave the class when my professor shouted at me, “Think about it, Grace!”
Brock texted me he was parked in Lot B. I groaned. Lot B was on the other end of the quad and not at all close to where I was.
Grace: I’m on my way. It’s a bit of a walk.
Brock: Shit. I can come closer?
Grace: I’ll walk, no worries. But if I get kidnapped, it’s on you.
Brock: Damn it.
I put on my favorite playlist for the walk and tuned out all the swirling thoughts about the future and focused on the lyrics. It wasn’t until I saw his car in the distance when the first clap of thunder boomed, jolting my senses. I jumped, ripping the headphones out of my ears. The sky was a bluish green and getting darker by the minute.
It was the Midwest. We could experience every season in a week. February could be in the sixties, and the next day could be a blizzard. It had happened, and the beautiful fall day was no different. Lightning danced across the sky, zig-zagging and lighting up the dark campus. I stood, mesmerized by the flashes.
I remembered one summer, some pre-teen age. It was like this, a sudden thunderstorm, and my mom and I were drawing with chalk and designing our dream house. Mine had purple shutters because it was princess themed. I went through a phase, but it was very short lived. We stood watching the rain fall and let it hit us in the face. We danced. We laughed. The thunder cheering us on instead of scaring us. I smiled, the memory one I hadn’t thought about it years. It was sweet and felt like a hug from her.
“Grace! What the hell are you doing?”
Brock jogged over to me with a hat. I shrugged, holding my bag tighter to my chest. “Enjoying the rain.”
“It’s a bad storm. I just got an alert. Come on, let’s go.” He gripped my elbow, motioning to the direction of the car. His voice had the right amount of incredulousness. I may have looked a bit crazy. I still hadn’t responded, or moved for that matter. “Grace,” he said again, with a voice more firm.
“Yeah. Let’s head in.”
“Do you find it a habit to stand outside in a severe storm?” he asked, jogging at a slow pace with me. The rain came down harder, the lightning becoming more aggressive. The first inkling of fear crept it. How long would I have stood there?
“Typically, no,” I answered, sliding on the wet pavement. “I was in a daydream of sorts.”
He shook his head, opening the passenger door for me and motioning for me to get it. I obeyed because it was raining, hard, and because the frown lines on his face became more apparent by the second. Before the door shut, he released a string of cuss words. I buckled myself in and felt the tension in the car rise about ten thousands degrees when he entered.
“Damn it, Grace.” He shook his hair out, and wet drops landed on me. Then, he started the car, ordered me to turn on the radio.
I obliged, sensing his worry.
If you are outside in any of the central counties, take cover. There has been a tornado sighting ten miles southwest of the city. It is moving toward us and is expected to arrive within ten minutes. This is a tornado warning people. Find shelter.
“Jesus,” I whispered, clutching the edge of the car. “What do we do?”
“I live two minutes from here. We’re going there,” he barked.
I gnawed on my bottom lip, tearing it to pieces. We had watches all the time, even severe storm alerts. But tornados? They were a different sort of fear. No sooner than he told me the plan, the sirens went off.
I gulped.
Regardless of the monthly tornado drills I did in school growing up, the sound of the siren, piercing and terrifying, went straight to my gut. I gripped the sidebar harder, clenching my fists. Brock sped up, his hands tense enough to break the wheel.
That was the longest two minutes of my life. The wind whipped the trees around us, and the rain came down so hard it was hard to see. I remembered how heavy rain meant the tornado wasn’t there yet because when the funnel was near it sucked up all the rain. If we saw hail, though, that meant it was close.
“Shit,” I whispered as golf-ball-sized hail hit the windshield. “Brock?”
“Almost there. Hold tight,” he said.
I sat there, helpless and scared shitless. I wasn’t super religious, going through the anger and blaming phase when my mom went through her sickness. Yet, I found myself praying and promising to be a better person if we made it safely.
It felt like a year had passed when he pulled into a bricked driveway, and he threw the car in park. “Let’s go!”
I dove out of the car, slamming the door shut and getting pelted with hail. The rain hit my face, my arms, everything. Hail clinked off the car and bounced on the ground making it look like snow. Brock grabbed my hand and dragged me toward his back door while shielding me with his body.
“Almost there. Shit,” he mumbled, finally getting the door open. “Basement is on the right. Head down there. I’ll grab a flashlight and radio.”
I had no intention of disagreeing. Feeling for a light switch, I eased down the carpeted stairs in the dark. My fingers connected with a switch at the bottom and flicked it on. Nothing happened. I fumbled for my phone and used the flashlight to guide my way. An old couch, a foosball table, and unpacked boxes. On the creeper basement scale, it wasn’t a ten, but it was somewhere between a three and four. I pulled up my weather app and saw the severity of the storm was on us now. Sharp red and yellow took over the radar and fear took root. Brock still wasn’t downstairs. I counted to one hundred, taking deep breaths and just as I was about to go upstairs to find him, the stairs creaked.
“Grace?”
“Yes!” I said, a little too desperately. “God, you worried me.” I held up the phone light and saw him carrying blankets, candles, and an old boombox. “Is that from 1995?”
“It might be.” He chuckled, dropping the blankets on the floor and lighting a couple of candles. If I wasn’t scared shitless, this could be romantic. But, I was terrified and wanted to get past the storm. “Don’t judge. I went through a RUN DMC phase.”
“I can see it,” I said a little too loudly. “Sorry, I’m freaking out.”
“Here, put this on. You’re probably freezing.” He handed me a sweatshirt, which I gladly took.
I shoved it over my head and was blasted with his smell; masculine, musky, and Brock. It fell below my knees, and I had to roll the arms up at least five times. I looked ridiculous.
“Th-thank you.” I hugged myself, teeth chattering.
“You look absurd.” One eyebrow raised as he put on a sweatshirt for himself. It had our school’s logo on it, and a desire to cuddle the shit out of him went thr
ough me. “Shine that flashlight over here, would ya?”
“Sure.” I stepped toward him as he got the radio set up. “Smart thinking.”
He grinned, the minimal light making him look sexier than hell. “You have to be prepared when you live here. Weather is a bipolar bitch.”
I giggled, nodding at him like a love-struck dumbass. God, get a grip. “She is.”
“Are you okay?” His brows furrowed, grabbing one of the blankets and throwing it over the old couch.
“I’ll be fine,” I managed to get out and moved to the couch. “I’m a little cold.”
“Well, shit, use this.” He handed me another cotton blanket. “My adrenaline warmed me, but I froze my ass off when I found you staring at the sky like a weirdo.”
“Yeah. Not my best moment.”
“It pisses me off to think of what you would’ve done if I hadn’t been there,” he said, tone gruff and possessive? “What would you have done?”
“Probably headed back into one of the buildings. Some of them are open twenty-four hours.” I gulped, placing my hand on his arm for a quick second. “I’m incredibly thankful you were there. Thank you.”
He grunted in reply, shaking his head at me. “What were you doing anyway?”
“I was thinking— “
BOOM.
Thunder louder than I had ever witnessed in my life shook the whole house. “Oh my God.”
“It’s okay. Shh.” He joined me on the couch, putting his arm around me in a comforting, brotherly sort of way. He rubbed my arms up and down, saying sweet things about thunder and lightning and angels bowling. “We’re safe here. This house is old but has a sturdy base. Even if we get hit, which we won’t, we’ll be okay. Do you prefer to go sit in the bathroom?”
“N-no. Here is f-fine,” I stammered, leaning into him a little more. “I don’t know why I’m shaking. I like rain. I’m okay with storms.”
“This one is nasty. It’s been a while since we’ve had one. We were due.” His mouth was close to my ear, his breath hitting it. My shivers worsened, but it wasn’t the cold this time. “Tell me about the first movie you saw in theaters.”
Internship with the Devil (Shut Up and Kiss Me Book 1) Page 16