The Goalie Bet novel · Chapter 3 of 32

Chapter 3: The Whiteboard

Dana finds the tally idea and starts it. Logan quits a rep and leaves. Jenna corners Dana in the parking ramp.

Day three, and he quit on rep seven.

Not the last rep. The seventh, out of twenty.

He sat up on the mat and pulled his knee toward his chest.

"No," he said.

"No?"

"I'm done with this one."

"There's thirty minutes left."

"I know how much is left."

He got up, rolled the mat with his foot, and walked out.

The door didn't slam. That was worse.

I stood in the empty room with the marker in my hand.

I'd been thinking about it since Monday, when he called a ninety-second wall sit two minutes.

I drew a line down the middle of the whiteboard.

Left side, his name. Right side, QUIT.

Then one tally mark.

It was petty. I left it up anyway.

Thursday he saw it and said nothing. He did the whole set.

Friday he quit twice.

Saturday I had a sprinter in for a hamstring, and I caught Logan standing in the hall looking at the board through the window.

He saw me and walked off toward the rink.

Monday he quit on rep three, with me in the room.

I put the mark up while he watched.

"Real mature," he said.

"It's data."

"It's a scoreboard."

"Same thing."

He grabbed his bag and left.

I packed up late. The rink had gone quiet.

I took the ramp to the second level of the parking garage.

My car was the only one left on that end.

I heard heels before I heard the voice.

"Kline."

Jenna. Same jacket. Phone in her hand like a wallet.

"You're parked far," she said.

"I'm parked where I park."

"I've been waiting."

She stopped four feet away. Her perfume was expensive and sweet.

"I want to be clear about something," she said. "Logan's not yours."

"He's my patient for four weeks."

"He's not your patient." She laughed, one note. "You're a student. You're not even a real trainer yet. You're doing hours."

"I know what I am."

"Then you know you're replaceable."

I unlocked my car and the lights blinked.

"I'm not doing this in a parking garage."

"You'll do it wherever I find you."

She stepped closer. I didn't step back, which I regretted.

"One phone call," she said. "That's all it takes. Your coordinator starts asking questions."

"What questions?"

"Whether you're sleeping with him."

The words sat there in the concrete.

"Because you are, aren't you."

"No."

"Not yet."

I got my hand on the door handle.

"I've got a placement I need," Jenna said. "You've got a brother who's the captain and a father on the athletic board."

"Congratulations."

"Don't be cute. Four weeks is a long time. A complaint, a log that doesn't add up, a patient who says you pushed him too hard."

"Logan wouldn't say that."

"He doesn't have to. I can say it."

She walked past me toward the stairs.

Her heels went on for a long time.

Tuesday he showed up at 4:30 with his jaw set.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he said.

"You don't have to be sorry. You have to finish the set."

He did the set. All twenty. Then the wall sit for two minutes ten.

Afterward he sat on the edge of the table with a towel around his neck and looked at the board.

"That's four," he said.

"Five. Monday counts."

"Monday was three reps."

"Monday counts."

He shook his head and laughed.

"You're the most annoying person I've ever met."

"I know."

He stood and went to the whiteboard.

"Give me the marker."

"No."

"Give me the marker."

I handed it to him to see what he'd do.

He didn't erase anything. He drew a line under the tally and wrote a number.

Five.

Then he put the marker back and stood very close to me.

"You've got a system," he said.

"I've got a system."

"Then I'll beat it."

"You can't beat a tally."

"Watch me."

He said it low and didn't move back.

I didn't move back either. That's the part I think about.

The room was warm and the light had gone gold.

"You should go," I said.

"Yeah."

He didn't go.

"Logan."

"I know."

He kissed me.

His hand came up and took the back of my neck and his mouth came down on mine like he'd already decided.

I made a sound into it that I wasn't proud of.

He backed me into table one and I sat down on the edge of it and he came with me.

His hands went under my jacket and found the hem of my cream top and pulled it up.

I lifted my arms and let him take it off.

The air was cool on my skin. His mouth was not.

He got my bra strap down off my shoulder with his teeth.

"Say it," he said against my collarbone.

"Say what?"

"That you wanted this on Monday."

"No."

"Liar."

He put his mouth on my breast, flat tongue, slow drag, then closed his lips and sucked.

My back arched off the table on its own.

I got my fingers into his hair and pulled and he made a low sound against my skin.

"You're going to leave a mark," I said.

"Good."

He went down my stomach with his mouth and got my pants and underwear past my hips in one pull.

I was on my back with my legs hanging off the end of the table.

He knelt down.

"Don't," I said.

"Why."

"Because I can't."

"You can."

He pushed my thighs apart and looked at me for a long time.

"You're so wet," he said.

"Shut up."

"I'm not going to shut up."

He put his mouth on me.

Not gentle. Flat tongue, then pointed, circles on my clit, then stopping and starting over from the top.

I put a hand over my own mouth and he reached up and pulled it away.

"No," he said. "I want to hear it."

"There's a hallway."

"Then be quiet."

He used his fingers too. Two, sliding in, curling up, mouth on my clit the whole time.

My heels came off the floor. My whole body locked.

"Don't stop," I said.

"I won't."

"Don't stop, don't stop."

He didn't. He sped up and pressed harder and curled into that spot over and over.

I came with my hand in his hair and my back off the table.

It went on longer than it ever has for me. I felt it in my feet.

I made a noise that wasn't a word.

When my legs stopped shaking he sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with his wrist.

He was breathing hard. His crewneck was soaked at the collar.

"Stand up," he said.

I stood up on legs that didn't want to.

He turned me around and bent me over the table.

I put my palms flat on the vinyl and looked at the whiteboard and my own handwriting.

I heard his belt. I heard the condom wrapper.

He put a hand on the small of my back and held me there.

"Tell me if it's too rough," he said.

"Just do it."

"That's not what I asked."

"It's not too rough. Do it."

He pushed in.

I'd been waiting for it since Monday and it still took my breath.

He was thick and he went slow and I felt every inch of it.

"God," he said, and it came out broken.

He pulled back almost all the way out and pushed back in and my forehead came down onto the table.

"Harder," I said.

"No."

"Logan."

"No. I'm going to take my time."

He did. Slow and deep and steady, and he talked the whole way.

"You quit on me Monday," he said. "I thought about this the whole drive home."

"Don't."

"I thought about bending you over this table."

"Logan."

"Say you thought about it too."

"No."

He stopped moving. Buried in me, and held still.

"Say it," he said.

I stayed quiet. He stayed still.

My whole body was screaming and he just waited.

"Yes," I said.

"Say the whole thing."

"I thought about it too."

He moved again, faster. His hand slid up my spine to my shoulder and pulled me back against him.

"You're going to come again," he said at my ear.

"I can't."

"You can."

He got his hand around me and worked my clit while he fucked me.

The table creaked. The cold pack box rattled.

"You feel like this every day?" he said.

"Shut up."

"Answer me."

"Yes."

"Then I'm going to be here every day."

His rhythm broke and came back and broke again.

I came the second time with my mouth open and no sound coming out.

It rolled through me in long pulls and I couldn't hold onto anything.

He came right after me. Deep, and stayed, and I felt him jerk and spill.

He made a sound low in his chest that I've thought about since.

His hand tightened on my shoulder hard enough to leave prints.

Then he leaned forward with his forehead between my shoulder blades.

Neither of us said anything for a while.

He pulled out and dealt with the condom. I stood up and put myself back together with my back to him.

My pants were inside out. I turned them right side out.

"Kline," he said.

"Dana."

"Dana."

I pulled my cream top back on.

When I turned around he was sitting on table two with his elbows on his knees, hair standing up where my hands had been.

"That was a bad idea," I said.

"Yep."

"We're not doing that again."

"Sure."

"Logan."

"Sure, Dana."

He said my name like he was trying it out and keeping it.

There were three quick taps at the door, and then the handle turned.

Jenna pushed it open.

She stood in the doorway with her phone up and pointed at us.

Neither of us had moved fast enough.

Logan's belt was still unbuckled. My hair was down.

Jenna looked at the whiteboard, and the tally, and the number five.

Then she turned the phone around so I could see the screen.

It was my email. The one I'd typed Sunday night, saved as a draft, never sent.

The withdrawal. Every word.

"You've got a draft folder on the shared placement drive," she said.

"Your supervisor gave us access in January."

I couldn't say anything.

"I've got screenshots," Jenna said. "And I'm sending them to the coordinator myself."

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