"Fuck off," I mutter, rolling my eyes and shoving past him into the cramped little bathroom, and I think I can actually feel my face heating up. That kind of embarrassment is something I thought I'd shaken back when I was still a kid. Back before Coach.

There's really nowhere to go that isn't close, that isn't practically standing on top of each other, and I rest a hand on his hip, dropping a kiss to his shoulder. I'd gotten good at keeping my hands off him, but today, I can't seem to help myself.