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gets down the hall." He brushes a knuckle over my clit and I damn near lose it on the desk. I shudder like a crazy person as a chill rips through my body. He giggles.
    "Go! You goddamned beautiful bastard."
    "Okay. But I'm gonna call you soon. Or should you call me? Or should we just meet up and tie some string to tin cans from each side of this door right here?”
    He's about to die. I give him a death stare.
    "I'll just call you."
    He smiles. I take off one of my heels and hurl it at the door as he closes it behind him. I hear his laugh from the other side when my shoe hits the door with a thud. Oh, I am so screwed. No, no, actually I'm not. But I have a pretty good feeling I will be, very soon.

GAVIN
     
    I am still flabbergasted at what just took place in the shrink's office. When Coach told me he wanted me to meet with a counselor that specialized in professional athletes, I nearly laughed in his face. I always picture them as these weathered, literary types who sit around having circular, philosophical arguments with one another.
    Elizabeth is crazy hot. Thick brunette hair, tall, legs for miles, and my personal favorite is the fact she isn't thin as a rail. I can dig my fingers into her soft flesh without worrying I'll break her in half. She is perfect. My God, her tits. I'm still kicking myself for not having a peek at them. Her smile sends heat rushing through me, and her hazel eyes cut through all of my layers. The only thing I regret was showing her who I really was. I should've kept it hidden. It's my weapon. Many people think athletes are stupid, and that because they play a game for a living they're uneducated.
    Baseball is chess, especially pitching. It's all physics. The way particles interact on the field. Angles, geometry, pitch selection, rotation, drag forces — it's constant analysis. I lead people to believe I just throw hard and that's why I am effective. The hypocrisy of how I revealed my true self to Elizabeth is that psychology actually has merit. I use it every time I take the mound. Knocking people out, fucking girls on the side, and my bad boy image is the result of careful calculation. Not that I mind having fun with it. I have to get in a hitter's brain, and throw the pitch he least expects. The pitch he's most likely to miss. If a hitter fears me, is intimidated by me, well, it works to my advantage. It's a game decided by millimeters and fractions of a second. Any advantage I can get helps my cause.
    But I think I have fallen for this woman, hard and fast. I can't explain it and she's all I'm thinking about as I stroll into Coach's office.
    "Coach." I nod, making sure it's okay to come in.
    "Gavin. Have a seat, son."
    I sit down across the desk from him while he clears a stack of papers to the side and rests his elbows on top of it. "How'd it go?"
    "C'mon Coach. Seriously? A counselor?"
    "Look. I'm not saying you have to make any type of progress. It just looks good to the media. For you and the club. I've been racking my brain about this. It's tough because I like your style of play. It's just not meshing."
    I shrug.
    "I think it'll do you some good. She's bright."
    Yes, she is. And fucking hot . I grin. Too much of a grin and Coach belts out a laugh.
    "Forget about it, kid. She is way, way, way out of your league. Just leave any ideas like that at home."
    I smirk. "Yeah, you're probably right. Can't fault a guy for trying."
    "Get your head in the game alright? Let's just see how it goes. Just give it one more go and actually try. Can you do that?"
    "Yeah Coach. I can definitely give it a go . Whatever is best for the team." I grin wide.
    "Alright then. Get the fuck out." He smiles.
    "Yes sir."
    I have to see her again. Soon.

ELIZABETH
     
    I open the door from inside my office and Coach is waiting on the other side. I sigh. "Come on in, Coach."
    "So how'd it go with the boy?" He hasn't even sat down yet and he's already wanting answers.
    My face gets flushed and I try to tamp the feelings