by Lucia Franco
My smile grew bigger and I tried not to laugh at all of his typos.
I hope you're feeling better.
Coach: I fine Nnothing vodka cannot help
My brows furrowed at my phone.
Why are you drinking? I thought you were sick.
Coach: I am sorry I was there today
I giggled to myself and shook my head at his mistake.
Are you drunk right now?
Coach: Ria, I am a Russian man I do not get drunk
I laughed. Typical of Kova to get dickish with me.
You're drunk lol
Coach: I not
You are
Coach: Ria
I was full on grinning now.
Prove it
Moments later, Kova texted me a photo with the caption You make me happy. My heart fluttered in my chest. He was slumped against a couch looking comfortable and cozy, a slight smirk curved the corners of his lips. His eyes were heavy and glossy, almost lazy, with slightly flushed cheeks. He wasn't looking at the camera though, it was like he had stared at himself while he attempted to take a picture. He clearly had no experience doing this. I tried not to laugh. My eyes traveled down past his face. I noticed a thick roped silver necklace, and a crisp white dress shirt that was unbuttoned and hanging open to reveal his fine chest. Damn man looked sexy as hell.
I'm trying really hard not to laugh too loud right now. I didn't take you for the selfie kind of guy.
Coach: What did you take for?
A dick pic kind of guy lol
Coach: Riaa
Yeah, he was drunk. I covered my mouth to hold back the laughter. I felt like I could hear him saying my name.
You're definitely drunk and I'm being honest lol
Coach: You want a picture of my dic Ria
I chewed my lip and butterflies swirled in my stomach. I hadn't expected for the conversation to go this way, but I wasn't objecting to it either.
I mean, I wouldn't say no to a dick pic
Coach: Too bad I am not one of thoe guys
You're no fun
Just when I least expected it, Kova texted me a photo. It wasn't a real dick pic, but it was close enough. With his legs spread wide and his black dress pants unbuckled with the zipper down, his hand was deep inside, gripping himself. Kova never wore boxers so I could see the fine black hairs that led down to his thick length. A strong vein swirled around. I wished he'd move his hand. My mouth watered at the sight of how erotic it was to see a man like this.
Go lower
Surprisingly, he did, but he teased me. My brows raised at the vein I loved so much on his pelvis that swirled down his length. His penis was out of his pants, hard and erect like it was ready to explode, and his hand was fisting the head.
Thank God I'm sitting in the tub or else I'd have to change my panties. You give good dick pics
Coach: You seen a dick pic before you bette not
Lol I haven't until now, just imagined what they would look like
Another image came through and my jaw dropped. All the air left my lungs. I struggled to breathe at how incredibly hot the photo was of Kova squeezing the head of his cock as his thick and creamy cum dripped down his shaft and leaked between his fingers.
Holy. Fuck. There's so much.
It was all I could say. No way would I tell him what I was actually thinking. I couldn't even admit it out loud to myself, I was too embarrassed.
I was going to need to get a sneaky app like Kova's because this photo was one I sure as hell wasn't deleting.
I don't care what you say, I'm keeping that forever. What's the name of your app so I can hide it?
He told me, and I immediately downloaded it. Later I would save our photos and videos to it.
The water was getting cold and I was suddenly overcome with fatigue. As the water drained, I typed.
I miss you
And I did. The ache in my heart was proof. I didn't like that he wasn't at the meet with me. I felt like I was missing a part of myself.
Coach: I misse you way more. Trust me
It feels strange without you by my side. I kept looking over my shoulder thinking you were going to appear. P.S. You look wasted
Coach: I have drank myself into a stupor this week. Every time I take a sip of vodka I pretend it is your lips I am kissing. I am drunk on you
That's actually pretty sexy, I like the visual. But what if you lick the vodka off my lips instead…and off other places?
Quickly, I stepped out of the bathtub and got dressed. I found I was much more liberated when it came to texting Kova. I'd never say this in person or even suggest it. I glanced down at my phone, but he didn't respond.
Will I see you soon?
The three dots appeared, and I waited for his message before I left the bathroom to read it. I stood there waiting until my legs couldn't handle my weight any longer and my eyes were falling shut. The message never came. I left the bathroom and headed to bed, confused, wondering why he was drunk on me…all week.
Forty-Nine
I think I have a better chance of being struck by lightning than getting you to answer your phone.
Within seconds my phone was ringing.
"Jesus Christ, Avery."
"Hey," she said, her voice soft and barely audible.
Alarm gripped my chest at her tone and I sat up a little higher in my truck. I was on my way back to practice after a long tutoring session that involved final exams.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she croaked. There was some shuffling in the background.
"Where are you? Are you sick?"
"I'm in bed. I just woke up."
I glanced at the clock on my dash. My brows furrowed. "Avery, it's midafternoon, and a school day. What's going on?"
"I skipped."
I frowned. It wasn't like Avery to skip school. In fact, I couldn't remember a time when she did cut class. Attendance was important to her. Being active in as many school functions was important to her. And so was getting into the college of her choice. She loved the social atmosphere, her teachers, she was class president and on track to be valedictorian.
She cleared her throat. Her voice still low and achy as she said, "I haven't been feeling well."
"But you never skip," I stated in shock. If anything, she would've gone to the doctor after class like she had in the past.
"It's just…my cramps are really bad right now and I've been nauseous." She paused. "I think I have the flu."
"You skipped over period cramps?" I asked, my voice raised in surprise.
"Not everyone can be as perfect as you, Ria," she bit out, insulting me at the same time. I flinched.
"I…I’m" I stammered, pulling into World Cup. I shifted into park and stared at the glass windows of the vast gym. "I'm just concerned because it's so unlike you. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I didn't mean to snap at you, I've just been grouchy lately from lack of sleep. What's up that you had to disturb me from my beauty sleep?"
I laughed. "I wanted to tell you that I'll be there in a couple of weeks."
"Really," she squeaked. "I get to see my BFFFFFF?"
I laughed again. "Yes. My mom asked if I could be there for Easter dinner, so I'll be home for a few days."
"I can't wait! It's been so long!"
I smiled. As excited as I was about seeing her, I was still very worried about her behavior lately. "Really, though, are you okay? You're harder to get ahold of than the president, and now you're sick and missing school. This doesn't sound like you."
"I'm fine," she insisted. "Don't exaggerate, I just have a lot going on right now. How are you calling me in the middle of the day anyway? Shouldn't you be at practice?"
"I just pulled into the gym, actually. I have to start therapy on my Achilles today and Kova is doing it."
"Your Achilles? Kova? Please tell me you've used your brain and stayed away from that fine piece of meat. I know he's got those banging fish lips and Greek god
body going on, but nothing good can come from that."
I gave Avery a rundown of all the things that had happened the past couple of months. From my injury to my meets to my parents. I had her caught up within a handful of minutes. My life was basically wash, rinse, and repeat. It didn't take long.
She ignored everything I said and focused on Kova. "Are you staying away from him?"
I sighed dramatically. "Yes. Nothing has happened. I promise I've been a good little girl."
"That's not what your broth—I mean, your mom said."
My brows furrowed, paranoia swirled in my chest. "When did you talk to my mom?"
"Ah, I mean"—she cleared her throat—"I overheard your mom talking to my mom and she made a couple of comments about how close you and Kova seemed at a competition. I thought I heard her say he put his arm around you in his jacket? I can't remember for sure."
In his jacket? I didn't understand that comment.
Nausea stirred my stomach. My first big meet in Las Vegas was the only one my parents had attended yet.
"When did they talk? What did she say?"
"It was a couple of weeks ago, I think? Shoot, I'm not sure exactly when. Things have been kind of hectic here."
"Focus, Avery. When?"
Her calmness rolled into annoyance in mere seconds. "I don't know. Two months ago?"
"You just said a couple of weeks. Now it's two months?"
"I didn't think it was that important, so I didn't log it in my diary," she snipped. Avery didn't have a diary.
"You didn't think it was important to tell me the moment you heard something about my coach being too cozy with me and my mom seeing it? That's huge," I screeched, shocked she'd not mentioned this sooner. "I can't believe this."
"I meant to text you but I forgot. I figured if it was at a meet and your parents were there that you wouldn't be that stupid to try anything."
"You forgot," I retorted in a flat tone, shaking my head. Unbelievable. "You forgot."
"What difference does it make if you're being a good little girl anyway?"
"It just does!" I yelled. "This is huge, Ave. I can't believe you forgot!" I was legitimately shocked to the core my best friend didn't notify me of this revelation sooner. A text would've taken ten seconds.
"Well, believe this."
Click.
I pulled my phone away and stared down at the blank screen. She hung up on me. Avery hung up.
I didn't think I was being unjust, and I also didn't think I deserved her blasé attitude either. If the roles were reversed, I would've had her back and got in touch with her as soon as I could. She let months slide by, months I could've prepared a believable lie.
Fury ignited my blood and I chucked my phone into the passenger seat. Tears burned the back of my eyes. My jaw trembled. I covered my face and threw my head back. Stars danced in front of my vision and my hands trembled from the anger bubbling inside of me. Avery should have messaged me immediately when she overheard.
I got out of my truck and marched around the front to the passenger side and opened the door. I bent down, searching for my phone, my hand skimming under the bucket seat until I found it. Sonofabitch. The screen was shattered and it wouldn't turn on. I would need to call Mom and have her order me a new one quickly.
I strode inside World Cup and went straight for the therapy rooms in the back, where I found Kova speaking to a man near one of the blue tables, both had their backs to me.
"Hey," I said softly, announcing myself. When they turned around, I stopped short.
Whoever this man was, he was drop dead gorgeous. I raked a stare down his sun kissed body. Khaki shorts and a fitted polo shirt clung to his tall frame. He had long, dirty blond hair that held a thick wave. It folded at his neck and cupped his tanned face. The lengthy stubble on his jaw was the same dirty blond shade, and he had no mustache. And his eyes, while not as spellbinding as Kova’s, his blue eyes could rival the clearest ocean.
This man was a quintessential surfer. I bet he smelled like sun and salt water. I couldn't stop gawking. Have mercy on his rugged handsomeness.
Kova cleared his throat.
I shifted my wide eyes to him. His brows furrowed and he stared right at me, not fond of my blatant assessment of the man next to him.
He cleared his throat again and I stepped forward until I was in front of them. I was right…the man reminded me of the beach.
"Adrianna, this is an old friend of mine, Dr. Ethan Hart."
I held up my hand and waved. Waved, like a freaking moron. "Hi."
"Dr. Hart—"
"Kova." His voice was hoarse, like he could cut glass. "Cut the shit with the formalities. We've been friends for too long."
Kova laughed under his breath. "Ethan is an orthopedic surgeon. He drove up from the Keys to observe me perform the Graston Technique on you today."
That was an awful long drive for a favor. "You came all the way here for that?" I looked at Mr. Rugged Handsome.
"I wanted to make sure I was performing it correctly," Kova answered for him.
"Not confident in your capabilities?" I smirked. "Performance anxiety?"
Kova's eyes glimmered, his nostrils flared. I could tell by the twist of his lips he wanted to say something.
His friend barked out a laugh and glanced at Kova. "I don't know how you do it, man."
Kova side-eyed him, his twisted lips curving even more. "A lot of vodka, that is how."
His friend chuckled again, then looked at me. "Even though Kova is now licensed, and I have no doubt he could do whatever he puts his mind to, the first few times are nerve wracking. Having a trained professional by your side helps. I've been doing this therapy for many years and I'm constantly traveling to do this on pro athletes down in Miami. So when Kova called me, I got here as soon as I could."
My eyes shifted to Kova and I nodded. He was a perfectionist through and through. He aimed to be the best. I guess I shouldn't be surprised he called in a professional like Dr. Hart.
"Why don't you hop up on the table. Lay on your stomach and let your feet dangle off."
I climbed up and got situated, and watched as Dr. Hart rolled out a thick cloth on the table adjacent to me. It reminded me of something artists used to hold their drawing pencils and such. He began removing the tools and placing them in a uniform line, six shiny instruments with rounded edges. I frowned as apprehension surged inside me.
"How long is this going to take," I asked wearily.
He shot me a glance then went back to what he was doing. "It should take no more than ten minutes, depending on the size of the injury."
I looked back at the different instruments in worry. "All that for ten minutes, huh?"
"It's not as bad as it looks. You'll be sore the first time or two, but after that you should be good."
He looked over my head to Kova. "Ready?"
"Yes."
A minute or so later, Kova was rubbing some cream onto my calf and the back of my ankle.
"What your coach is doing is applying an emollient. He's going to rub it in from the top of your knee down to your foot. It's a lotion that will soften the skin and keep it from drying out, but more importantly, it helps with the friction."
Kova began running a dull-edged tool down the length of my calf. It was cool to the touch, but quickly warmed up after he repetitively moved in the same motion.
"Apply pressure and run the blade smoothly down her calf like you're doing now. Can you feel the sandy, gravel feel under it?"
"Yes," Kova said. "It is smooth in some areas, and others it feels like pebbles of dirt."
"Right. So, if you're feeling that grit, that's an area that's seen a lot of stress or has been injured before. Mind if I feel it?"
They switched places and the doctor ran a hand down my calf first before he started. "There's nice muscle definition here, but I can tell by touch it's tight and there are knots." He stroked the back of my leg with the tool, pressing much harder than Kova. I grunted and te
nsed up.
"Does that hurt, Adrianna?" he asked.
"A little bit," I grunted.
"More so than Kova?"
This time I pushed my butt in the air out of reflex. "Yes," I grunted.
"Relax." His voice was firm and demanding. I lowered my hips and he continued the raking as he spoke to Kova. "A lot of newbies are afraid to apply pressure. Don't be. You won't hurt her. The more you do this, the more you'll get a good feel for her and how much she can take."
"Hmm…" He hummed under his breath, like it was worse off than he expected. He ran the blade harder, trying to smooth out the bumps. It reminded me of when I was a kid and my mom wanted my hair in the perfect ponytail. She'd brush in the same spot over and over until it was smooth and perfectly leveled, not caring that my head was on fire from the impact of the bristles or that I had probably lost hair.
"That restriction you feel under the blade tells me this is an area that's seen a tremendous amount of stress, possibly an injury that has healed itself and has been reinjured." He applied more pressure. "There’s some tissue buildup as well. Since this is the first time for both of you, I suggest gradually increasing pressure with each session." He switched spots with Kova again and turned to me. "Adrianna, you'll notice red blotches on your calf, they’re nothing to be alarmed about. It's just blood flowing to the Achilles. It's great for stimulating circulation and healing."