Trapped with Carter Stone

Two Weeks In Hell

HAILEY

Last night, I lost my job and nearly lost my scholarship, and discovered I'd be spending two entire weeks in Pine Ridge with the one person capable of turning my life into a living disaster. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Carter Stone's face. Every time I drifted off, I heard his voice. By morning, exhaustion sat heavy on my shoulders, but it wasn't nearly as heavy as the fear twisting in my stomach. Because somehow, I knew the worst was still coming. I kept replaying Carter's threat, Dane's brutal words, and Coach Matthews’s disturbing news. I couldn't sleep a wink because each time I tried to close my eyes, my stomach sank until it formed knots.

Standing outside Coach Mathews's office, I wipe my sweaty palms over my jeans before reaching for the door.

"Coach Mathews?" I call out, my voice soft. "It's ... Hailey."

"Come in."

His office is the same as I remember. Trophies lined up on a narrow shelf, team photos of the Timberwolves nearly covering an entire wall, and the usual half-finished cup of coffee. Coach Mathews lifts his head, shutting his laptop with a soft click. "Got my message last night?"

I nod, standing awkwardly next to the door. "Got any questions?" He lowers his head to review some files. "The trip is tomorrow. I assume you've started packing."

"I can't ... I mean ... I shouldn't be the official photographer for the trip to Pine Ridge. I-"

"That's not up for debate, Hailey." His stern voice reaches my ears. "I didn't make that decision." He lifts his head to meet my gaze, his brown eyes softening. "I know you've been having issues with Carter, but you shouldn't mix your duties with personal problems."

"You don't understand, Coach Mathews," I whisper, fighting the burn in my eyes. "I can't go to Pine Ridge. Not with the teammates. Not with him. Someone as clumsy as me can't handle such an important task." I let it out in one breath, hoping my clumsiness is enough to convince him I'm not fit for the task.

He raises a brow. "Like I said, I didn't make that decision. It's from the dean's office. If I were you, I'd take on this task with no more questions. Your scholarship depends on it." The words refuse to sink in at first, but then they slam into me with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. It doesn't make sense.

"My scholarship depends on this?" I don't even realize my voice is loud until it echoes back. "I made sure my grades are perfect, and l've stayed completely out of trouble. If my scholarship should depend on something, it shouldn't be

"Stayed out of trouble?" I can hear the slight mockery in his voice as he cuts me off. "Hailey, you slapped Carter in a public setting."

My heart nearly jumps out of my chest. How does he know? Did Carter already report me?

"I know Carter can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but slapping him at a diner with several customers watching? That was a bit extreme."

Tears start to form in my eyes. "But Carter started-" "No one wants to hear that." He sighs. "In fact, the only thing on everyone's lips is the fact that you slapped a well- known player on our team, and you have to fix this. Apparently, this is the dean being nice. Two weeks without getting into trouble with Carter, and your scholarship remains intact. But if you fail ... "

I walk out of Coach Mathews's office with my head hung low, mind still spinning with the fact that I have to try to make things work with Carter-for two weeks-to keep my scholarship.

It sounds close to impossible. No, it is impossible. How am I supposed to survive that long around him without snapping again? Without him pushing me until I break?

"What the hell? Watch where you're going, slut," someone brushes past me, nudging me hard with his shoulder as he laughs with his friends. "I'm not as nice as Carter. If I were him, I'd give you a scar that'd make you unrecognizable."

His friends laugh as they walk off. I wince, pressing my palm over my aching shoulder as I glare at their backs. Assholes. My stomach suddenly tightens when I notice Carter walking toward me, his dark eyes fixed on me.

He enters the Coach's office quietly, almost as if I don't even exist. I should be glad Carter paid no attention to me for the first time in forever, but my skin still prickles with unease.

Did something else happen?

"You call this some damage control? Fixing her as the photographer for a two weeks trip without asking me first?" The sound of something slamming against each other echoes as Carter demands.

"That's not for you to decide! Everyone is talking about what happened at that diner, and you know what that means for your reputation." It's coach Mathews's voice now.

"I didn't even touch her."

"You've not checked the internet, have you?" I awkwardly stand there, listening to their barely audible voices as my pulse races, nearly spiking out of control. What on earth is going on?

"Carter, I've seen the way you treat this girl, but honestly, I've never called you out to talk about it. What you did last night was way past it. This school would have protected you, but the owner of that damn diner would do everything to protect himself and not paint his worker as the only culprit." Coach Mathews continues.

I suck in a breath.

There's a slight tremor in Carter's voice. "What did he do?"

"He released the whole video clip. The one where you spilled coffee on her and drenched her. She gained the public's sympathy. Your reputation will take a big hit if you don't fix this."

Carter goes silent.

Even the coach goes silent. "What the hell have I done? This wasn't supposed to blow up like this. I just wanted him to .... stop." My mind spins. Public sympathy at what cost? If Carter's cornered, he'll lash out harder at me.

Perhaps they've lowered their voices. I run my sweaty palms over my jeans and step away, turning my back to leave. That's when I hear the slight creak of the door opening.

Carter's calm voice follows. "I'm guessing you overheard everything."

I halt, about to deny it, but he beats me to it. "Don't even think about denying it."

His footsteps pound behind me, and I feel the urge to bolt-to walk away, to get out of here and prepare for the trip. After all, he made me lose my job. Why do I have to listen to whatever he has to say? But my feet won't move because he's too close.

"This is all your fault." He's standing in front of me now, his height towering over my small frame. "If you had delivered the pictures just as planned, this wouldn't be happening." He's shifting the blame now?

Speechless, I shake my head and turn right to start walking away, but he blocks my path. I turn left, and he does the same thing again.

I raise my head, letting out a shaky breath. "I ... I need to leave."

He takes a step closer, his faint scent of cedarwood curling around me. I inhale it sharply, even though I didn't mean to, and my stomach tightens as his lips brush my ear. "You slapped me and gained the public's sympathy in twenty four hours-"

I move until my back presses against the wall. "I ... it ... I didn't mean for it to escalate this way."

"Yeah, and now we're stuck in a small town together for two weeks."

My voice rises. "This isn't entirely my fault." "Neither is it mine," he rushes out, his chest heaving as his eyes linger intently on my face. He edges closer, until we're barely an inch apart, mint breath warming my face. "But we both have to fix this."

My breath catches in my throat as he looks me dead in the eyes.

"You're going to have to fake date me." He adds quietly. "You'll get to keep your scholarship, and my reputation gets fixed. That's the only way."