Liam eye’s followed her movements for a moment and then tugged his hands through his hair. He looked helpless and in a sense, he was. Going to Coach Davis was his only option.
Would he do that?
If he did, would Tara tell Coach Davis about our relationship?
"Are you guys okay?" Liam asked, bending down to where we were all sitting.
Emily nodded, but stayed silent.
"Oh yeah! We had a wonderful morning. I'll let Kinsley fill you in though," Becca said as she pushed up off the ground with Emily so they could head into the field house after the seniors.
"Kinsley, why the hell are you letting her treat you like this? I'm taking this to Coach Davis."
The last sentence spurred me into action.
"She knows," I began, but I could hardly get the words out through the emotion building behind my eyes. I was in way over my head and I couldn't see which way was up anymore.
Liam nodded, slowly grasping the seriousness of the situation. His hand reached down for mine so that he could help me up just as Coach Davis pulled into her parking spot. She hopped out of her car and eyed us warily for a moment before heading inside. Just fucking great. Her suspicion was the last thing we needed.
"I've got to go to practice. We'll talk later," I promised, turning on my heel and running inside before he could say anything else.
Our relationship was poison for my career. The media would spin us into whatever sold the most magazines and “happy soccer couple” wouldn’t sell shit compared to a soccer bad boy going after a naïve girl that he was supposed to be coaching at the time.
We were royally screwed.
…
Liam: Is everything okay? Can you meet me tomorrow before practice? Call me.
"You're going to talk to him, right?" Becca asked after having read the text over my shoulder. We were in my room later that night trying to come up with a plan on how to handle Tara.
"Yes. Of course. I just need to think about it for a second. If I go to Coach Davis myself she'll pull Tara into the office and Tara will throw Liam and me under the bus. But if I tell Liam, maybe he'll have a better plan?" I chewed on my bottom lip like I'd been doing all afternoon.
"I think you should tell Liam because he has the right to know about what’s going on."
"Yes, god, I know that. I just don't want to get him involved if I don't have to. He has enough on his plate without adding this, too."
"What about you?" Becca pointed out. "You have just as much on your plate.”
She had a point, but then I glanced at my clock. 11:00 P.M. Too late for a phone call considering I had practice at 6:00 A.M. the next day, right? That's what I told myself.
Kinsley: Yes, but we shouldn't meet before practice. Don't want to be suspicious.
Liam: What about after?
Kinsley: I have that interview.
He didn’t bother texting back. A moment later, his number illuminated my screen and I panicked. I swiped my finger across the screen and flew into my closet, shutting the door behind me. I felt like a secret agent. Albeit a very amateur one.
"Hello?" I asked, not even bothering to turn the closet light on.
"Kinsley, tell me what's going on. How did Tara find out?" He sounded tired.
I sank down onto the carpet and pushed back behind the clothes so that they fell in front of me like a curtain.
"She and a few other people saw us go into your room at one of your parties and she said it was clear we'd just had sex. Coach Davis told me to stay away from you and I didn't listen."
Liam didn't speak right away. I could hear his steady breathing and then he finally groaned. "I've dealt with assholes before, but she's cunning."
"Yeah, well you can tell her how ‘cunning’ she is when we're both kicked off our teams."
"I won't let that happen, Kinsley. Tara is the not the end-all be-all. She can’t do shit to me, and I won’t let her touch your career. Let's just cover our bases at practice. Act normal and try to deal with Tara's shit for a few more days. I'll get everything figured out."
I nodded in the darkness.
“Sounds good, Coach.”
He laughed. “I’m sorry our relationship is such a fucked-up mess.”
“Hey! It’s our fucked-up mess, okay?” I joked.
“Do you remember when I asked if you regretted us?” he asked.
I smiled at the memory. “Yes. I said I’d let you know in a few weeks.”
“Have you made your mind up?”
Of course, I’d made up my mind. I didn’t regret us for a single moment— not even when my hand had slipped into some questionable fluids in the field house bathroom that morning.