Taking a step toward the locker room, I shake my head. “I’m kind of beat, and Coach McMann will want to lock up.”
It’s a solid excuse, until Sol holds up a bunch of keys.
“Yeah, he told me to give these to you. Something about being late for a date.”
Fucking frat boy coach.“Great,” I manage through gritted teeth. “Just leave them there and I’ll grab them when I’m done.”
Before Sol can say anything, I step through into the locker rooms, my heart pounding. I feel like a dick, but it had to be done. He can’t be showing up at practice. What’s wrong with a text? An email? When I reach my locker, I lean my head against the cool metal and exhale a shaky breath.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
My heart leaps into my throat as Sol’s voice echoes around the empty locker room, and I turn to find him standing in the doorway, his beautiful face creased in a frown.
“Problem?” I echo, turning back to my locker and opening it. “I don’t have a problem.”
Sol is at my side in a matter of strides, his arm reaching over my shoulder. He palms my locker, slamming it shut with a crack that echoes enough to make me wince.
He’s close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my bare skin, and the way my pulse is hammering in my veins has nothing to do with fear. I take a step back. He’s too close. His cologne, the same peppery citrus scent that’s burned into my memory, clouds my senses. Silence pulses between us and I watch as his gaze lowers, trailing over my shoulders and chest, the annoyance on his face melting as he drinks his fill.
Maybe itisfear I’m feeling.
I swallow. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
His attention snaps back to my face, the frown returning. “I wouldn’t have had to come in here if you’d have just talked to me.”
“Like I said, I’m exhausted. And now, thanks to you, I can add cold to that list.”
Sol’s attention flicks over my goose-pimpled skin and he takes a step back. My fingers clench at my sides, twisting in my towel, as I fight the urge to drag him back.
“I only wanted to tell you that Dean Mason wants to meet on the first Wednesday of term in January to discuss the proposal. He wants both of us there.”
“Both of us? Why?”
Sol’s eyebrows arch. “Did you think I wouldn’t give you credit? I’m pretty sure the dean would figure out I couldn’t put something like that together on my own. Anyway, I’d like it if you could be there. I’m sure he’ll ask questions I don’t know the answers to, even if I read the proposal another ten times.”
“Fine.” I sigh. “Send me a text or an email or something to remind me nearer the time.”
Sol’s gaze drops to his feet. “Thanks for putting it together. It’s seriously impressive.”
“You’re welcome.” I don’t know what else to say, so I turn, cautiously re-opening my locker and pulling out my gym bag.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch sooner.”
I keep my attention on my bag as I pull out my sweats and set them on the bench. “No worries. There was no reason to get in touch.”
For a moment, there’s only the sound of our breathing and a leaking shower somewhere echoing around the empty locker room. My jaw is tight as I shake out my t-shirt. I haven’t decided whether I’m going to shower or not yet.
“There was reason.”
His words are soft and tired, and when I glance over my shoulder, he’s staring at me, but I can’t read the look in his eyes. “Are you going to stand there and watch me get changed?”
Sol’s eyes widen, but then he shakes his head, the line back between his brows as his frown returns. My thumb twitches with the need to reach out and smooth it away.
“I should have replied,” he mutters.
His words are laced with a remorse I feel in my bones. We started something stupid, but when he didn’t reply, it gave us both enough time to think about it. Time is not a friend to bad ideas.
“It’s probably best you didn’t,” I admit.