Being herself has never been a challenge for Nyla until high school, where bitches, boobs and boys invades the minds of everyone... Well, everyone except her, of course.
Nyla never cared much about any of the three B's until she grew conscious of h...
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I’m going to be in so much trouble.
No, really. As if it wasn’t bad enough that we broke into the gym, Austin had just pushed his way through the coach’s office, too, guiding me in before closing the door behind him.
“Austin, what are we doing?” I asked in a sharp whisper, although there was no one around.
“I want to show you something,” came his simple yet snarky reply.
I glanced around. The room was compact, with far too many cabinets and a single trophy case taking over an entire wall. The window—which was already tiny—was covered by a shelf filled with (surprisingly) neatly stacked books and a picture of the track team. I inched closer to it, swerving around the coach’s desk and chair to stare at the photo. The first person I saw was Austin. There was the grin again.
His arms were around two of his track team members, leaning forward as they all shouted something—I assumed from how their mouths formed an ‘O.’
“You guys seemed happy,” I said without realising it.
Austin nodded. “We’re like family. We support each other even if we don’t qualify for an event or race.”
“You say ‘we’ as if you’ve ever not qualified before.”
“Oh, I have,” he said as he perched his bottom on the coach’s desk.
“Remember I told you about an injury?”
“A wee hour and a half ago, I suppose.”
“Well, it was a hard year. I worked twice as hard to get back where I am today.”
“Hmm,” I hummed, trying hard to hide my astonishment. “So why aren’t you at training today?”
“We don’t train on Fridays unless we have an upcoming event. But I usually still visit the gym to workout.”
As if instinctively, I glanced at his chest. Though it was covered by a navy-blue t-shirt, the distinct evidence of his muscled chest protruded through the wretched thing.
Austin caught my gaze, and I almost flinched away when he brushed his finger to my chin and lifted my head. I met his eyes—my embarrassment budding—and I could feel the heat threatening my cheeks.
“So, is this why you brought me here: to risk ruining my perfectly spotless record?” I tried to sound sarcastic, but with Austin holding me like this, I didn’t even trust my own voice.
