by Croix, Ada
After convincing herself that the coaching team was done with the athletes, she set her feet under her and climbed down from the bleachers to head for Marc at the other edge of the pool.
As it turned out, she didn’t need to worry about him disappearing into the locker room at all. Allie realized that instead of picking up their bags to retreat to the men’s area, the guys were instead stopping above the clutter field of their backpacks and tucking their towels into knots about their waists. She stopped abruptly, half turning around on the impulse to give them time and come back later.
Sodden plops marked the dropping of speedos onto concrete as one by one the guys peeled them off of their hairy legs.
“You’re the assistant from the Kaitech study?”
Allie finished her twist and looked up into the sun-lined face of a man wearing one of the water polo teams’ staff jackets. “Oh.” Her eyes flicked over him, taking in the height that rivaled the current players and the softness that age had given to his frame. “Yes. That’s me. Allie Hillsten.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Allie.” The man transferred his clipboard between his hands so that he could reach and give hers a hearty shake. “I’m Everett Samber, the team manager. See if you can get your study work over with quick? We’re planning a group dinner tonight.” He gestured her towards the half-naked team.
“Yes, of course.” Allie nodded quickly and about-faced. Her gaze fell towards their feet, but maybe that was worse. It meant that Marc caught her peeking along the bare-legged length of him as he hitched on his grey boxer-briefs. There was nothing left to do but walk towards him.
Each member of the team was so tall it was like entering a grove of trees. Allie kept her eyes from focusing as she flicked her shy smile to the guys she passed, stepping around puddles and begging their pardon. Not like they cared. The majority didn’t seem to even notice her, absorbed in exchanging laugh-warmed insults over each other’s performances that day.
Marc let his towel fall as he got his jeans slid up to his hips, unhurried in doing up their button fly. Beaded water glistened along his shoulders. Allie could just barely see the fading red marks on his skin where his teammates had been pawing at him in their scuffles. Marc didn’t seem to notice them at all. He did, however, notice her.
“How are we doing this?” He was straight to the point. She may have the whole of his attention now, but it seemed that Marc would rather not give it to her for long.
Allie rolled her shoulders straight and unclenched one fist from her death grip on her sample kit’s strap. She motioned towards a door in the wall nearby. “There’s an office we can use so you can sit down. I’ll record your …” Her eyes followed as he leaned to his bag, grabbing out not his shirt but the wristband she gave him. “Pulse.” She smiled.
Marc didn’t smile back. She was beginning to doubt if he knew how. “All right,” he said simply. He grabbed the rest of his things to cart them along.
A few of his teammates gave them glances as she followed along in Marc’s bare-torsoed wake. Allie was trying not to stare at the small shifts of muscle along the powerful triangle of his back, so she was better watching her periphery. She nodded to Adam when he waved at her before he moved off with some of the younger guys to wait in the bleachers. Her gaze was next caught by a pair of summer blue eyes watching her. It was hard to match the uncapped team to the players in the water, but she thought it was the sprinter Blake who’d won first hands on the ball. He smiled back at her readily enough when he noticed her looking, wielding his good looks with a knowing self-confidence.
Allie snapped her attention forward to the office she was entering with Marc. The door thunked closed behind them, muffling the echoing noise of the pool. There was a window in one wall looking out to the deck, so it wasn’t as isolated as that first night in his room. Marc acted like he owned the place, walking in and setting down his damp things on a desk before he hauled out a swivel chair to sit on. He sprawled out his legs and looked over at her expectantly. He was so tall that when seated he hardly had to look up to meet her eyes.
There wasn’t anywhere she could go without intruding on his space. She had to step over his ankle to get her kit up onto the desk beside his things. “I’d never seen a water polo game before,” Allie said inanely as she got out the timer. She looped its string over her neck and then put on her gloves and palmed the salivary sampler from her kit.
“That was a shit show,” Marc said lazily.
Allie frowned as she pulled the little sampling brush from its tube. “You’ll get better.” After the slightest hesitation she stepped up closer, the slim space forcing her leg to brush against him. “Open?” She gestured towards his mouth with the brush. He twitched those full lips and then did so, the slant of his eyes looking up into hers.
It made her awkward as Allie brushed the sampler to his gums. The incidental touch of her fingertips to his lips set her mind to wonder what it would be like to touch skin to skin. To kiss him. It was exactly what she wasn’t supposed to think about as a clinician and she hoped desperately that he couldn’t read any of it on her face.
To cover her straying thoughts Allie kept prattling on. “Anyway, Adam was telling me that you’ve just all started playing together, so it makes sense that there’s a … learning curve.” Jerking her shoulders into a shrug, she retreated a step and dunked the brush back in its sleeve. The liquid inside would stabilize the proteins and immune markers Doctor Kaitech was studying.
Marc tongued at the line above his teeth where she’d scraped, following her with his eyes. “Is that what Adam was telling you.” It was only sort of a question. He lurked in his chair like a waiting lion.
She could feel the heat in her ears and couldn’t look at him. She nodded vaguely. Luckily, Allie had the neat order of her protocol to depend on. The thermometer next, to record his temperature. She tried not to think about how she was reaching for his mouth again. While it sat under his tongue she forced herself to pick up his wrist with professional authority, getting his pulse rate. His wrist was so big, she couldn’t fully get her hand wrapped around it. Maybe this is what his speedo felt like, stretching over his …
Allie bit her lip, like that could stop the wild run of her imagination. Focusing on counting was better, and indeed she found herself lulled by the steady report of his heart.
The thermometer beeped and she took it back so she could record the number for his sheet. “Well I’m glad you’re here,” Allie said with a lift of brows once she was safely focused on her writing. “I’m glad you’re participating in this study. It’s … I know it’s a bother.” She glanced out the window to where everyone seemed pretty much done changing by now.
“As long as you’re glad,” Marc said drolly. “If all else fails, I suppose I can console myself in being your favorite lab rat.”
“I didn’t say that.” Allie turned a budding smile towards him. It started as a moment of daring playfulness in contesting that he was her favorite anything, but once she saw how he was looking off to the side with that tightness in his jaw … Her humor fell flat and she swallowed.
His gaze had become restless by the time Marc looked back at her. “What’s next?”
“Nothing.” Allie gave a little shake of her head and retreated farther to start packing up her bag. “That’s it for the after-exercise data. You’re wearing your wristband,” she acknowledged with a nod. “That will help us plot your overall activity, as best we can, and hopefully you’re tapping in at the cafeteria so it’s recording your caloric intake?”
“Yeah, I tap it,” Marc said with a quirk of his lips that came so close to being a smile. “So this is all we do, every other day?” He pointed between the two of them as his muscles tensed in their corrugated lines to pull him up to the edge of his chair. He flicked his eyes up slow along the length of her, letting the question shape silent in the look he matched to her again-staring eyes.
“I …” She summoned back that cheery smile that gave her such go
od bedside manners. “This is all we do, yep. Just the first and last appointment are … Anyway. You can …” Allie pressed herself to the desk and gestured towards the door. “My job is to interfere with you as little as possible.”
“If you say so.” Marc stood, once again towering over her. He seemed in no hurry, pausing to pluck his shirt from his bag and tug it over his head.
As Allie tidied her own things, she snuck a glance aside to that solid washboard of abdominals before his shirt’s soft hem finished falling over to cover it.
“Until next time.” The way he reached for his bag wrapped him around her, like he was engaging her in defense.
Allie felt static tickling at her nape and along her arms. “Yeah,” she said simply and dropped her head, hoping he couldn’t tell what effect he had on her. Nine more days. Nine more days until his last appointment, and he would go on his way and hopefully she’d be on her way to medical school with a stellar recommendation from Doctor Kaitech.
07
Avoiding the water polo team during their time in Colorado wasn’t an option for Allie. Her work assisting the team’s physical trainer, Lindsey, became more involved once the woman discovered how many skills Allie had picked up during her internship at the clinic. At first she was just going to help them learn about the specialized technology available at the center, but soon she was invited to attend the coaches’ meetings with Lindsey and give input on the design of the team’s recovery planning.
Of course, that was all added on to her alternate-daily check-ins with Marc. The head coach didn’t seem to care very much about the details of any of this, acting as an efficient delegator of tasks he saw as more mundane and unrelated, but Allie quickly grew to appreciate everything the team manager Everett did for the group. He was the one who invited her to come to that first day’s class in the presentation room, where she sat in the back and watched the guys interact.
Allie had gotten over a lot of her prejudices, perhaps, working at the training center—but it was a little surprising how sharp some of the guys were. Sure, a large percentage of them talked like stereotypical surfers. And yet the majority of them had graduated from or were attending some of the most prestigious universities in California, places Allie had seen on top-ten lists when looking at her graduate school wish-lists. Not to mention the one guy who was Ivy League. By the way they asked questions, she reckoned a chunk of them could have gotten into those institutions on academics alone.
She noticed that Marc was quiet. She wasn’t the only one he seemed to prefer to talk to in monosyllables. He would sit at the back of the classroom with his arms crossed over his chest. Apart. This despite the way she could see the younger guys peering at him, so eager to learn from those that had been through all of this before.
Small wonder they would look to him, with the way he moved in the pool. They were all amazing. But Marc was like a Greek god. He could tread water the longest and still lift his shoulders above the surface in a weighted vest, and after that carry one of those metal bars she’d noticed the first day up and down the full length of the pool. He applied himself to everything physical with a doggish focus. Despite his prickly demeanor, it couldn’t help but be inspiring.
Others on the team were easier to get to know. Allie quickly became familiar with the veterans, if not why they seemed to keep their distance from Marc. There was Chad the charismatic team captain and Austin the starting goalie. Vince was the oldest on the team and a father of three. Like Marc, they had all been to multiple summer games and picked up professional contracts in international leagues for the years in between.
Largely due to the fact that players needed to go international in off years to find leagues with paying contracts, there was an odd age range of guys. Half the team was still in college, like Adam, and had been too young to play on the United States’ team last time the summer games were held. And then there was the middle cohort of guys, the rookies from the London games. Troy and Ivan had also played in international leagues over the past four years, while Blake had just finished his fifth year of college before last summer’s continental tournament and had devoted his time to training for the upcoming world competition ever since.
Allie couldn’t help but compare his exceptionalism in being a part of two international-level teams to her own reason for taking five years to graduate. The difficulties of transferring from community college and trying to sign up for impacted classes seemed a world away from what these elite athletes considered challenges. Ivan and Blake in particular almost seemed like another species. Both gorgeous, both graduated from the most expensive and prestigious school in Southern California. They carried themselves with a charismatic confidence that had all the girls on the training center’s staff turning their heads.
Small surprise that it was Ivan who won the dubious distinction of catching Violet’s eye. It happened when Allie came in with the team for lunch, trailing the pack of rambunctious young men as part of the team’s coaching staff. She was busy scribbling down the notes Lindsey was rattling off to her so she didn’t notice Violet making a beeline for her until her elbow was taken in a possessive link with the other girl’s.
At least her roommate had the decorum to wait to join the conversation until the coaches were done with business. Not that she didn’t introduce herself. Violet was anything but shy or shrinking. “Hello, I work in the administration office.” She flashed a million-dollar smile as she took Lindsey’s hand. “I’m Violet Jenkins. It’s so good to have you here, I’m glad we were able to book the team for over a week. I expect that the PR event we are having on Sunday is going to be really excellent, and it will be a great way for your sport to get some more visibility.”
“The right kind of visibility would be excellent,” Lindsey noted with a polite smile, obviously undecided on whether Violet was offering a flavor of notoriety that was desirable.
Violet of course was undeterred. She was a big proponent of fake it till you make it, and that included friendships with ornery administrative staff. She was capable of being violently friendly, and she seemed to have her sights locked on.
This was earning her an excuse to walk to the tables with the team, after all. It was subtle, but Allie knew her friend well enough to catch the flicks of Violet’s mascaraed lashes that checked to be sure the boys had noticed her. “I know some of your team members already have sponsorships,” Violet went on. “But we’ll have representatives here on the weekend who will be looking to do flavor pieces for television and other media, and I think they’ll just gobble these boys up.”
Violet was looking quite predatory herself as she tossed her hair and grinned at the collection of men before them. “They like to hear about the athlete’s day, too, and the people who work with them. Have you done much work in front of the camera?” Now the flattery came as Violet appealed to her new bestie’s vanity.
Allie repressed her smirk and just followed along in her friend’s wake. She was getting more attention now than she had the whole day. It was bystander effect. Certainly, Violet’s leggings and heels were much more a spectacle than Allie’s watermarked khakis and overlarge polo shirt. Well, more attention except in Marc’s case. He seemed almost deliberate in his choice of seat with his back set squarely to her. Maybe he was getting tired of all the prodding she was tasked with doing to him.
Meanwhile Violet seemed to be composing a verbal letter of recommendation. “Yes, Allie has been an excellent asset at our clinic. I know she’s been doing amazing work with Doctor Kaitech. I don’t think I’ve met anyone who works with such tireless dedication.”
“Stop,” Allie said bashfully as she collected her tray and grinned up at Lindsey. “Violet is my best friend here, so she’s terribly biased.”
“Well, the both of you must be doing something right,” Lindsey said. “If you’ll excuse me, I had some things to talk over with the head coach.”
“Of course,” Allie answered.
“See you later,” Violet added.
Allie started to walk for the nearest empty table, but Violet pressed hard into her side. It nearly spilled her chocolate milk, being steered towards Blake and Ivan’s table. “Do you mind?” Violet asked without really waiting for an answer. She slid in beside Ivan with such enthusiasm that Allie could see their hips bump.
Out of the corner of her eye, Allie could see that Marc hadn’t bothered to follow where she was sitting. She smiled hesitantly at Blake. “Is this all right?” She hovered her tray over the spot on the table, waiting for permission unlike her friend.
“Please,” Blake welcomed her with a sweep of hand. “You’re Allie, aren’t you?”
“That’s right,” Allie said with a grateful smile as she settled in primly beside him. She noticed that he had set a napkin in his lap. After a moment’s hesitation, she teased the paper square out from under her fork and unfolded it to lay over her leg. It made her want to sit with her back held straighter.
Allie did a double-take across the table as she noticed the pleased look Violet was giving her.
“So where are you boys from?” Violet asked as she curved a bump of her shoulder against Ivan’s and spun her fork idly in her fingers.
“Los Angeles,” Ivan answered, his smile growing as she held a matched gaze with him and cooed an interested little noise.
“Have you ever been there?” Blake wondered … but he wasn’t looking at Violet.
Allie had to gulp though a swallow to clear the first big bite she’d taken from her mouth. “Who, me?”
“You,” Blake confirmed with a too-sharp grin.
“Oh. No,” Allie shook her head. The care she took in setting down her fork was all for naught when it went clattering off the side of her plate. “I’d …” As if she weren’t flustered enough already. She fished after it and hoped she wasn’t blushing too much in front of the boys. “I’d love to,” she finally choked out. “I’ve looked at a few of the schools there, for their graduate programs? But I’ve never been …” Anywhere. But it made her sound worse than she already did, so Allie just left it at that.