Coach Me

by Shanora Williams

  I walk off the track and Torres stalks in my direction. “What the hell was that, Lakes? You call that sprinting?” he snaps.

  “I have to race her again. It’s fine,” I say, panting quickly, ready to walk past him but he stops me, catching me by the upper arm and forcing me to face him again.

  “No, it is not fine. What I just saw was pathetic, Amber. That was nothing like how you practiced at school.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe it’s because I’m distracted by my coach flirting with another coach,” I snap under my breath.

  Torres blinks rapidly, then narrows his eyes. “Wait—are you serious right now?”

  I stare him in the eyes. I’m far from joking and he needs to know it.

  “First of all, no one is fucking flirting with anyone. Medina and I go way back. We used to volunteer coach for an elite team together a long time ago and she is married.”

  I swallow. That doesn’t make me feel any better, but it also doesn’t make me as annoyed knowing that she’s married.

  “Second of all, this is a goddamn track meet, Amber. You shouldn’t be worried about me, or Medina, or anyone else but yourself right now. This is your race and your time to shine, and you’re disappointing me and the rest of the team with this insecure bullshit.” He lifts a finger up and points it at me. “We’ll discuss this thing with Medina later, but right now I need you to stop being so naïve, get your fucking head in the game, and win this next race.”

  And with that, he gives me his back and marches off. I can tell he’s trying to keep his cool because there are others around, but I know he’s pissed.

  I bite my bottom lip, lower my head and stare down at the grass. I feel like a fucking idiot.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  I’m given fifteen minutes to break, and during those fifteen minutes, I’m blasting all the hype music I can, from Kendrick Lamar and J. Cole, to Drake and Wiz Khalifa.

  Not once do I look for Torres. Not once do I search for Medina. I spot the girls for the 200-meter dash walking back to the track and stripping out of their track warmers and I head over to do the same.

  As I fold my jacket and pants up and place them on a bench on the side, I can feel eyes on me. I look up as I walk to my starting line and Torres is in the middle of the field, in the same place he was last time. He still looks pissed, his muscular arms folded across his broad chest, and his jaw steeled. Medina is nowhere near him.

  I look away and do a quick stretch before bending down and getting into formation. My head is down, and I close my eyes, finding that light my father always used to tell me about. He’d tell me to close my eyes and picture a gold light at the end of a tunnel. The light is peace. The light is the end of the race.

  My head lifts, and I spot Morgan at her starting line, eager and ready to dash.

  Sorry, Morgan, but you won’t win this time.

  “Set.” The official’s voice echoes through the microphone for the second time. I lift off my knees and prepare for take-off.

  My heart beats fast. My fingertips are pressed on the rubber, and I’m sure it’s leaving an imprint.

  The gun goes off.

  This time I don’t hesitate.

  Power from my legs. Fingers off the ground. Arms at my side.

  I run like my life depends on it, and hell, maybe it does. I don’t pay attention to anyone who is around me, in front of me, or behind me. I just run, heart beating, chest heaving, legs going so fast I feel like I’m floating.

  No one is in front of me.

  But I feel someone close behind me.

  I push harder and before I know it, the race is over.

  I won.

  The first person I look at is Torres. His arms are no longer folded. His brows are no longer stitched together. One of them is cocked, and his chin is tilted up. He looks only at me, does a subtle nod, and then he walks away, going to the 800-meter starting line.

  On the bus ride back to Bennett, I’m sitting in the back of the bus with Kendall and Janine. They’re talking about music but all I can focus on is Torres at the front of the bus.

  He’s seated on the first row on the left, next to Coach Mills. Mills is of course talking, but Torres doesn’t seem to be into the conversation he’s having.

  When the bus parks at the school, the players are told to get off first. As I pass by Torres’ seat, I can’t bring myself to look at him. I can feel him looking at me though.

  I walk with Kendall and Janine to the locker room with the rest of the team so we can grab our things. I tell the girls I’m going to the restroom as we start to depart and head there, but I don’t use it. I just stare into the mirror, trying to figure out why the hell I performed so poorly today.

  Clearly, jealousy doesn’t suit me, and it doesn’t help me win either. I overreacted today and Torres knows it. He definitely deserves more than my insecurities.

  I pick up my gym bag, sling it over my shoulder and leave the bathroom, but as I walk out, I notice someone standing across the hall and gasp. At first, I have no idea who it is, but I know it’s a male. The locker room hallways get really dark at night, and the hall is made of cement that looks dark gray, which doesn’t help. There’s one light on and it’s a few steps away from the bathroom.

  But from the light that spills out of the restroom behind me, I can make out who it is.

  Torres.

  His back is pressed to the wall, fingers in the pockets of his track pants.

  “Torres,” I gasp. “What are you doing?”

  “You done with your tantrums?” he asks, pushing off the wall.

  “What are you talking about?” I frown as he steps closer.

  “Let me tell you something about Medina,” he goes on, ignoring my question. “She is a nice woman, but I am not attracted to her. I used to work with her. We now attend track meets separately and like to compete with our players. I told her I had a good sprinter this year—told her that you couldn’t be beat.”

  I work hard to swallow as he takes another step closer to me.

  “That’s all there is to it. She doesn’t like me, and I don’t like her—not in that way. Matter of fact, the only person I can’t seem to get off my damn mind is you, so in my opinion you have nothing to be worried about.” His fingers clasp my chin. “I want you, Amber Lakes. Not Medina. Not the girls from the club asking for my number. You. And even though that kills me to admit sometimes, it’s the truth.”

  I don’t even know what to say to that. My belly is a bundle of butterflies, my heart playing an even harder beat. My mouth opens, but snaps shut instantly.

  Torres’ eyes soften and even though it’s dark, I swear they shimmer. “That’s okay,” he murmurs.

  “What’s okay?” My voice is soft.

  “You don’t have to say anything right now.” And with those words, he’s using the hand that was holding my chin, and cupping it behind my head. I feel his fingers dig into the hair of my ponytail to hold me firmly, and then his mouth is on mine, and I melt.

  It’s all I can do when he’s near. Melt.

  I drop my bag immediately to throw my arms around the back of his neck. A throaty groan slips out of him as I thrust my tongue between his lips to get a taste of him. He tugs on my hair, yanking my mouth away to kiss my throat and I’m held hostage to him.

  “I need you again,” he rasps on the hollow of my throat. “What happened over break wasn’t enough.”

  “No,” I breathe out raggedly, lowering my head. “It wasn’t.”

  We stare into each other’s eyes, despite the dim lighting in the hall. His eyes fall to my lips and mine do the same to his. Our lips press, and I tangle my fingers in his silky hair, wanting so much of him. I want him right now, but I know this isn’t the place or the time. This kiss will have to be enough—this kiss that’s secluded in darkness and only a skip and a trot away from the locker rooms.

  Our kiss breaks and I start to speak, but then I hear someone call my name and they don’t sound too far away. Torres looks over
my shoulder, and his face is struck with horror, eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them before.

  I snatch my body out of his hands and spin around, and when I see Kendall standing in the middle of the hallway, her eyes wide like saucers and her jaw slack, my heart sinks to my stomach.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  I don’t even know how to react right now. I stare into my best friend and roommate’s eyes as she looks between Torres and me incredulously.

  “I—I’m gonna go.” Her voice is hurried, and she doesn’t hesitate to leave. She turns and jogs away.

  “No—wait. Kendall!” I call after her.

  I rush forward, but Torres catches my arm and shakes his head. “Talk to her when you get back to your apartment,” he says. He releases me and picks up my gym bag to hand it to me. “Do you trust her?”

  “I do,” I whisper.

  “Good. Make sure she keeps it between you and her.”

  I nod, and Torres sighs and pulls out his cellphone. “Here. Add your number to my contact list.”

  I take his phone, surprised, and immediately create a new contact and add my number. I didn’t think about how I didn’t have his number, and yet our connection has felt strong, despite not calling or texting one another constantly.

  I hand the phone back to him when I’m done and he takes it, slips it into his pocket, and then drops a kiss on my forehead.

  “Text me about Ramirez,” he says as he walks away. I watch him go down the hall and around a corner, which leaves only me standing alone in the dark hallway. I pick up my bag and scurry down the hall, heading for the tunnel and leaving the locker rooms.

  I don’t see Kendall as I cross the track, so I make my way to our apartment and hope like hell she’s there. What is she going to say? That look in her eyes wasn’t easy to miss. She was shocked, as she should have been, and probably a little afraid.

  When I make it to my door, I stick my key in the lock, but it’s already unlocked. I snatch the key out and barge in. Kendall is not in the living room, but her gym bag is on the floor by the sofa.

  I go down the hallway and hear music blasting in her room.

  I knock. “Kendall?” I call, but the music is so loud I don’t even think she can hear me.

  I knock again, harder this time, and in a matter of seconds the door is snatched open and Kendall is standing on the other side.

  “Kendall,” I sigh, my shoulders sagging. She looks into my eyes, then presses her lips together. “I—I don’t even know what to say right now.”

  She steps back and picks up her phone, pausing the music. She then puts her focus on me and says, “What I saw is none of my business and if you don’t know what to say, then don’t say anything at all. You don’t need to apologize to me. You did nothing wrong on my personal behalf.”

  I’m stunned by her response. I expected her to be angry, or confused, or weirded out but she’s…calm about it. I pick at the cuticle of my nail. “Can I…can I come in?”

  Kendall steps back and gestures to her bed. “Sure. It’s not much, but it works for me—this room, that is.”

  I smile as I walk past her but I’m too nervous to sit, so I just stand in the middle of the room and watch as she closes the door.

  “Listen…um, Torres and I…we aren’t—well, we never really intended for it to be like this, you know?”

  She seems confused.

  I continue. “I just think working with him so much has pushed us to testing boundaries and we went a little too far.”

  Kendall sits in the chair in front of her desk. “How did it even start?” she asks.

  I avoid her eyes. “The night of the carnival.”

  “Oh, shit! Yo, are you serious?” she guffaws, a hand over her mouth.

  I nod.

  “Did he come onto you or…vice versa?”

  “I don’t know. It was kind of a mutual thing, I guess. I didn’t tell you this, but I saw Stephen at the carnival that night. When I left you and Janine to grab something to eat, Torres was working the popcorn stand with his mom. I kind of hung around there a bit, and that’s when I saw Stephen with some other girl. I was disappointed and a little hurt and Torres saw the whole thing go down, so he came to check on me, make sure I was okay. Then I dared him to get on that stupid haunted boat ride and we kissed and…we just haven’t been able to stop since.”

  “Shit, Amber.” It’s all she can say. Her hands are in her lap now, but her eyes are still stretched with surprise.

  “Kendall, you have to promise not to share this with anyone. Please,” I beg.

  “What? Amber, come on! Like I would ever do that to you! I have witnessed shit that is so much worse than that, okay? This is—and no offense to you or Torres—nothing in comparison to some of the shit I’ve seen.”

  “Yeah, but it’s wrong. He could be fired for this if anyone we don’t trust finds out.”

  “I’m sure he knows that, and yet he can’t seem to stop his tongue from going down your throat.” Kendall snorts.

  I sigh and sit on the edge of her bed, dropping my gaze. I want to laugh, but it’s hard for me right now. Kendall is a talker. Sometimes she slips up with the things she says.

  She eventually sighs too and then leans forward, taking my hand to get my attention. “Hey. Look at me.” I lift my chin, focused on Kendall’s brown eyes. “I will never tell anyone about this. You are my best friend, okay? We’ve been homies since the beginning. Your secrets are safe with me.”

  “You can’t tell Janine either,” I add.

  Kendall pulls away to cross her heart. “Never.”

  I smile and nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

  “For sure. Now what do you say we hit up Shake Shack?” She shoots to a stand and picks up her wallet from her desk. “I’m starving and after those hurdles, I need a fucking burger.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  That was way too close of a call.

  I can’t think about anything but Ramirez finding us. I should stop all of this right now. Amber is great, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know if this is worth risking my entire career over.

  I want so much more of her, but I want my job too. This job keeps me and my mother afloat—it gave me a real chance at life—and to risk that over lust is stupid as hell.

  But this is Amber. After the night in the hotel, it’s impossible for me to get her off my mind. I woke up the next day, a whole lot soberer than I had been when I tasted her, and realized it wasn’t enough. I regretted sending her off. I should have finished the job, got her out of my system, and been done with it.

  I park in front of my apartment building and as I unclip my seatbelt, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

  I pull it out as I climb out of the car and there’s a text from Amber. She saved her name in my phone with an orange emoji heart. I smile at it. This is why I call her mi preciosa.

  Amber: Kendall isn’t going to say anything. I trust her, so I know she won’t.

  I sigh, shutting the screen of my phone off and going to my apartment. Even if Ramirez is to keep quiet about it, this is wrong. My hands shouldn’t be on Amber, my mouth shouldn’t be claiming hers, especially not on campus where anyone can pop up and see. I was reckless, thinking with my dick instead of my brain.

  I’m glad I have the rest of the weekend to myself because, frankly, I need to reevaluate a lot of shit.

  And deep down, I know that I’m risking so much because of something else. It’s not really Amber that is my problem. No, she’s more of a tempting distraction if anything. It’s been nice having something else to think about other than tragedy.

  Something I’m way too afraid to acknowledge right now has been eating me alive lately, but having Amber to think about has made the reminder of it go away.

  But, still…the anniversary is coming up and she won’t be around.

  I’ll have to cope with it myself and I’m really not prepared for it this time.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Torres isn’t at practice today.

 
; Hamilton says he took the day off, so instead we are practicing with Foster and I hate every second of it. Since Torres isn’t here to defend me, Foster is drilling me the most. She doesn’t like how I finish, how I start, or even how I do my damn jumping jacks.

  I don’t like her at all, and I make a mental note to text Torres and tell him to never make me suffer like this again.

  I am worried about him though. It’s not like Torres to miss practice. He’s always prompt and ready to go, and not only that, but we have a meet this weekend. It’s not as monumental as the one against Biltmore last week, but it’s still a competition.

  When practice is over, and I’m walking back to my apartment with Kendall and Janine, I send a text to Torres, but it’s when I’m studying an hour later that I realize he hasn’t text me back.

  The next evening, I’m trapped with Foster again and Torres is still out. Foster grills me, clearly getting a twisted sense of joy out of this, but I push through it because I want to go home and call Torres. He never texted me back last night and now he’s been out two days in a row, which I think is odd seeing as the season is officially about to start soon. Maybe he’s sick. Who knows?

  As soon as I get home, I go to my room and shut the door behind me. I chew on my bottom lip as I focus on Torres’ name on my screen. Then I press the call button and the phone rings, and rings…but there is no answer.

  It’s sent to an automated voice messaging system and, feeling defeated, I sink down in the chair by my desk and drop my face in my hands. This has to be because of Kendall catching us. Is he ashamed? Embarrassed? Is he thinking about leaving the team now because of me?

  “Yo, Amber!” There’s a knock at my door and Kendall pops her head in. As she does, I whip my head up to pull my shit together. “Janine said there’s a party tonight at the sorority house. She got invited and was told to bring friends. You in?”