Chapter 98

“Look at you,” Coach continued. “You are so fat, Cynthia. Have you been skimping on your workouts? Sneaking in too many snacks?”

I dropped one of my arms from covering my breasts, to covering my waist instead. I was exposed, vulnerable. I wished Asher was here to block me from the world… or the world from me.

He had made me feel so sexy in this same swimsuit, not but a few hours ago. Now I felt like garbage.

But he wasn’t here. I was alone, suddenly scrutinized not just by Coach’s leering gaze, but by the rest of the cheerleading squad too.

“That pudge is disgusting, Cynthia,” Coach said. “Don’t you think so, too, ladies? You, Elena…” He pointed at her. “You’ve got a hot body. Don’t you find hers gross?”

Elena glared at Coach. When her gaze slid to me, the same glare held. “Yes.”

“Right?” Coach continued. “You girls really need to get her in line, alright? When one girl goes fat, it makes the rest look less appealing. You are a unit. You’re either all hot or none of you are.”

He exhaled, long. “For now, it will have to do. Your tits might carry you through, Cynthia. Put some makeup on those marks, though. I can’t believe that Alpha-brat likes a fatty.”

I dug my fingernails into my skin, humiliated. I felt so vulnerable, so ugly.

I hated it here.

This coach had taken one of my favorite activities and twisted it into something hurtful.

I wanted to be anywhere else, wearing anything else.

No, I wanted to be wherever Asher was.

“Um, sir?” One of the girls dared to raise her hand.

Coach fiddled with his camera. He didn’t look up as he said, “Speak.”

“Why are we wearing swimsuits? If you don’t mind me asking…”

Coach shrugged. “We’re going to have a photoshoot.”

A… photoshoot? Of us in swimsuits?

“I’ll sell the photos and it’ll make a great fundraiser for the squad. Everything is expensive these days, ladies. It’s good you have a guy like me here to help you out.”

“You’re going to sell the photos?” Elena asked. “Is that… permitted?”

Coach sharply glanced at her. “Are you going to tell me I can’t?”

Elena swallowed hard. “No, sir.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, line up. We’ll do one at a time, and then a team shot.”

All the cheerleading squad glanced at each other. Some started to move, but most hesitated. I was rooted to my spot.

“Coach, uh… sir,” Nicole mumbled. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable –”

“I’m sorry,” Coach snapped. “Did I hear someone say they want off the squad?”

Nicole slunk into herself. “No, sir.”

“Line up, Nicole. You can go first.”

Begrudgingly, Nicole obeyed.

“That’s more like it.” He snapped a few pictures of her, all of them awkward. He didn’t seem to mind. “Shy girls sell as good as anything. Next!”

When the next girl was awkward too, Coach became less forgiving. “Knock off the scared act, girls. You have to get more comfortable. If you can’t handle a camera, you’ll never be able to handle the swimsuit contest I’ve arranged for you.”

A few of us stiffened. My wide eyes met Nicole’s.

“Oh? Didn’t I mention it?” Coach said, smirking like he told a joke. “Keep your Saturday night free, because this weekend, we are going to my favorite bar to put on a show for some paying customers – er, benefactors.”

“Sir –“ I started to speak up.

Coach shot me a glare. “I know you won’t embarrass me, Cynthia. None of you will. Not if you want to keep your place on the squad.”

With that threat, no one dared to speak up again.

After, I texted Asher and we met in his dorm room. For a while, we sat side by side watching TV. We didn’t usually watch television. We always talked instead.

But today, I was afraid to open my mouth. I was disgusted with myself, inside and out. Physically, I felt overweight and slimy from Coach’s unwelcomed gaze.

Internally, I hated myself for not speaking out, or speaking louder. I wanted to stand up to Coach, but how could I? To defy him was to risk everything I’d been working for.

But he was just so repulsive.

And now I was supposed to parade mostly naked at some sleazy bar?

Asher hooked his arm over the back of my chair. He’d done this many times before. But today I winced.

His gaze snapped to me in an instant. He withdrew his arm back to his own side.

I didn’t want anyone to touch me, not even him. Not after everything.

He didn’t deserve to get his hands dirty by brushing against me.

Watching me, he waited. When I didn’t offer an explanation, he clicked off the television.

When I only continued staying silent, he prompted, “Cynthia.”

After another minute, he added. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” I said at once. I couldn’t let him think that. “No, it’s not you.”

“Okay, so tell me what is bothering you.” A moment of silence. “You wanted to meet me, but then you just wanted to watch TV. That’s fine, but it’s not like you.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” Asher said. “Just talk to me. Please.”

How could I deny him when he was so concerned?

But how could I tell him the truth? Coach had made threats against him, too. If Asher knew about the photoshoot, or God, about the sexy swimsuit contest, he’d rage for sure. He’d protect me, even at great cost to himself.

I couldn’t let him get hurt, not if there was a way I could protect him.

Still, the worries weighed heavily on me. At the swimsuit contest… what would be expected of me? Asher had more experience than me. He might have some idea.

Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I imagined.

“Asher,” I said. Stopped. Swallowed. Tried again. “Have you ever witnessed a girls’ swimsuit contest?”

His gaze stayed steady on me, but within their depths a hurricane began to form.

“Cynthia,” he said, voice suddenly, dangerously low. “Tell me you aren’t involved in a swimsuit contest.”

I could lie, but what would he do when he eventually, inevitably found out the truth? Would he ever forgive me for keeping it from him? Would he think the worst of me, believing this was something I wanted to do?

Asher touched my hand, and I jumped from my chair. He couldn’t touch me, he’d get dirty!

He stood up too, following me as I crossed the room.

“You aren’t saying the words, Cynthia.”

Spinning to face him, I noticed the way he held himself ready, primed to fight an enemy he just needed the name of. If I told him the truth, he’d likely bolt from this room and pommel Coach, consequences be damned.

But… maybe Asher was overreacting. Surely all swimsuit contests weren’t as sleazy as Coach had made it sound.

“Tell me what a swimsuit contest is like,” I said.

Asher straightened to full height. His eyes were a thunderstorm, tumultuous and deadly. “Why?”

“I just want to know.”

His hands curled into fists. “Women in bikinis, parading in front of horny, drunken men. Men who ogle and catcall and sometimes touch. Is that what you want to hear?”

It was what I dreaded, and my stomach churned.

“Now, Cynthia,” Asher growled. “I need you to tell me, in very precise, definitive terms, that you are not participating in a swimsuit contest.”