The Coach's Daughter

Tatum's POVIt's not the beam of bright sunlight shining in through the large window beside the bed that wakes me, but the heavy weight of something across my stomach. Forcing my eyes open despite how heavy they feel, peeling them apart as if they've been stuck together with glue, I look at the large, tattooed arm lying across my bare stomach. My eyes trace the large, detailed dragon running from the top of the shoulder – its eyes staring up at me – and over its body to the tip of its tail that wraps around the elbow. And all at once, the memories come pouring in like a tidal wave. Images of me bent over the countertop in the co-ed bathroom at Mario's with Nico's eyes burning into mine through the mirror as he drove into me from behind makes my core tighten. And, of course, I can't forget riding him like I was a f*cking cowgirl trying to ride the prize-winning bull until I collapsed on his chest, well spent. When Nico asked after our steamy rendezvous in the bathroo

Tatum's POVI want to enjoy my accounting degree for my dad, I really do, but I can't f*cking stand listening to my professor's robotic voice as he explains a math equation that makes zero sense to me. I would rather pull out individual eyelashes one by one, but I refrain from the pain and instead lean back in my cramped seat and stare at my laptop screen. 3:57 p.m. Three more f*cking minutes until this nightmare is over. It's been a little over two weeks since I went to my dad's workplace under the pretense that I would try to give the future he has planned for me one last chance. Instead, I ran into my walking nightmare, best known as Phoenix Reid, my one-night stand. Thankfully, nothing has come of that night and my dad is clueless, which is what I want. But despite each day that has passed since seeing those crystal-clear ocean-blue eyes, I can't seem to get them out of my damn head every night when I close my eyes. I find myself thinking about Nico more often th

Phoenix's POVMy eyes feel as though they're about to fall out of my f*cking head and roll across the floor of the tiled foyer as I walk past the receptionist's desk. After a long training session last night, my limbs feel heavy and my brain foggy. It could also be because I got about five hours of sleep between lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with a certain pair of amazonite crystals staring back at me, and having to wake up at 5 a.m. to get ready to come into the office. I know I put this all on myself because I live a double life as an athlete and CEO, but at the end of the day, it's worth it. Coming into the office this early wasn't something I had to do, but I like to be present among my employees because having an absent boss won't do ReidCo any favors as we start to grow bigger. So, I wanted to make sure I got in with enough time to catch up on work before I head to my one-on-one training session with Coach Monroe. As the main pitcher for the Cats, Coach likes

Tatum's POV"So, who's the new guy?" I ask, kicking my legs above my head as I watch Sammie from my spot on the bed. Sammie leans her head against the front of my dresser and smiles. "His name is Oscar. I met him online last week and we went on a date last night. He's nice." I raise a brow at her. "He's nice? When a girl says a guy is 'nice' it usually means he's a dickhead." Sammie snorts and shakes her head. "Tate! I don't know what you're talking about…" I laugh and bring my hands to rest underneath my chin. Sammie and I haven't had a chance to have a girls' day for a little while now, so it's been nice just hanging out in my bedroom and talking about boys and what has been going on lately. With our busy schedules, it's been hard to meet up for long enough to talk properly. Between studying, writing my book, and daydreaming about Nico, it's been hard to keep up with Sammie's life too, which I feel slightly guilty about. When she texted me last night a

Tatum's POVSammie and I are a giggling mess as we leave the sky box, joining the throng of fans leaving the stadium now that the game has finished. My hands are gripped firmly around Sammie's waist as we try to hold each other up on our jelly legs. In our tipsy state, finding the locker room in this crowded place is going to be harder than I thought. Sammie suggested that I call my dad to come collect us from the sky box and guide us through the maze that is this stadium, but I told her I was confident that I could get us there. I also didn't want to annoy my dad after the game had just finished; he was likely going to be busy with the team doing whatever they do after the game. But as we bump into fans, giggling and trying to walk on steady feet, I'm starting to regret that decision. Someway, somehow, a man named Mike found Sammie and me slumped against the wall next to one of the women's bathrooms laughing as we tried to figure out where we were meant to be going