Chapter 232

“If you don’t watch your weight,” my ex-coach said, hitching a thumb in Asher’s direction, “then even your boy toy here might get disinterested. I’m sure even he wouldn’t want you to get too much fatter.”

“I couldn’t give a shit about her weight,” Asher growled. His fingers curled around my shoulder, digging in a bit in his desire to protect me. I reached up and patted his hand until he relaxed some. Then I faced my old coach.

“I’m pregnant,” I said.

The coach looked at me again, brow pulling together. “Oh.” He shrugged. “Well, some guys are into anything, I guess.”

Asher tensed again, but Nicole spoke first and loud.

“Coach, don’t forget the rules you are supposed to be under,” she snapped.

Coach, unusually, seemed cowed, lowering his head at once.

Then, even more surprisingly, Elena spoke up too. “You are on thin ice around here. No one cares how well-connected you are. Or, should I say, you were.” She laughed, and the girls around her did too.

Coach shrunk even further into himself.

I looked to Nicole for an explanation.

“Coach’s connection was the Vice President,” she said.

I immediately reared back. Only Asher’s arm kept me from falling backwards.

“Now that the Vice President is gone, he’s lost any control he might have had.” Nicole looked over at Coach with a vicious sort of look in her eye. “Truly, it’s only a matter of time before he’s fully out.”

“He’s lost his power,” I said.

She nodded. “He’s totally at our mercy now. One more complaint about him, with no one in his corner, and he’s out in the cold.”

I was relieved to see that the girls had regained their power in the situation, when he had made us all feel so powerless before. It was a fitting kind of revenge. But it still worried me that Nicole hadn’t told me about this.

“You had enough on your plate,” Nicole said when I asked her about it. “Besides, with things as they are, there’s nothing to worry about. He isn’t acting the same as he used to. He can’t, or we’ll kick him out.”

I wished they’d kick him out anyway, but she had promised it would only be a matter of time.

“I’m glad things are better,” I said, which Nicole took at face value and went on her way.

Asher meanwhile, saw through my words to the underlying worry. I was always so exposed with him, so vulnerable. I thanked whatever god would listen that this was the man who cared so much for me.

And who I cared for so much in return.

“The girls have this one under control,” Asher said. “This guy isn’t worth your worry.”

I smiled at him. He was right, of course. “Old habits,” I said.

I was willing to let it go, and almost did.

Until Coach approached Asher and I again, all faux-friendliness. To Asher, he said, “A bit of friendly advice. She’ll be all stretched out after the baby is born, so enjoy that tightness now, huh?”

Asher’s hand curled into a fist. He was going to hit the man, and Coach would absolutely deserve it for such a skin-crawling, disgusting remark.

But I stopped Asher. This was my body Coach was talking about so derogatorily, and I was so sick of not having agency over my person.

So before Asher could make another move, I stepped forward, grabbed Coach by the shoulders, and kneed him in the groin. He doubled over at once, hands flailing to cover himself.

The girls around me, my old squad, laughed and cheered.

And like that, I felt a piece of myself return.

When Asher and I returned home, I had a lightness in my step that I had been missing for many months. It felt good to have a tiny little revenge, even if it was well after the fact.

Asher and I changed into our pajamas and got ready for bed, but I wasn’t tired just yet.

I was still feeling bold.

I’d given Nancy’s advice some more thought, and while I still wasn’t ready to ask the big questions, I thought I might take a shot at a few tests.

“Asher,” I said, after he’d finished brushing his teeth. He placed his toothbrush on the holder next to mind, a hint of domestic bliss that made my heart soar.

“Hmm?” He glanced at me, leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

“Would you still care about me if I was a worm?” I asked.

He laughed. “A worm? Why would you be a worm?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a witch cast a curse on me or something.”

He shook his head. “That’s ridiculous, Cyn.”

It was, but I still wanted to know. “Okay, but if it wasn’t…”

He looked at me with fondness bright in his blue eyes. “I would still care about you. I would have to get you some kind of enclosure though, with dirt, I guess? I have no idea how to take care of a worm. Please don’t be cursed by any witches.”

His small, silly panic made me giggle. “I’ll try.”

He leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Any other questions for me? Hopefully not something like would I care about you if you were an armadillo or something.”

I giggled more and shook my head. “I imagine your answer would always be the same.”

“It would,” he confirmed. He stood up straight again and stepped forward like he meant to move around me.

I grabbed his arm before he could. “I do have another question though.”

He eased back. “Go ahead.”

I licked my lips. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Whenever you want.” His lips curled in a mischievous little smile. He made no move to lean closer, however.

I huffed. “Can I have a kiss now?”

“Gladly.”

He placed his arm onto the doorframe over my head and finally leaned down, bringing his face close to mind. He was unbelievably handsome regardless of how close or distant he was, yet when he was like this, I could see every eyelash, every fleck of silver in his perfect blue eyes.

I could stare at him for hours. I wanted to, another time. For now, I desperately wanted that kiss.

I closed my eyes and lifted my head. He took the hint and finally closed the gap, bringing his mouth down over my own.

The kiss started gentle, with the mere press of lips to lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck, enjoying the feel of him against me. He was so warm, so strong. I could stay just like this forever and it would always be perfect.

But then he opened his mouth and his tongue licked at the seam of my lips, coaxing them open. I obeyed at once, allowing him entrance.

His tongue slipped into my mouth, tracing along the side of my own. I met him match for match. We’ve kissed enough now that we’ve perfected this dance. Yet every new kiss was a thrill. It sent butterflies flying in my stomach and kicked my heart into overdrive.

I couldn’t get enough of him.

I’d never get enough of him.

And I noticed, as he was slowly taking me apart with only his lips and tongue on mine, that he did not kiss like a man who wanted me platonically, or merely sexually.

He kissed like he wanted to savor me.

Like he wanted to romance me.

Maybe the love I wanted from him wasn’t so far out of reach, after all.