pinky promise - jamie tartt

‟ I LOVE YOU SO VERY MUCH „

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

Tate was going to absolutely murder whoever gave Beard the green light to hold a press conference.

She had tried, her very hardest, to get him to stop yelling at every reporter in the room, but he didn't head her warnings, and instead called her out for thinking Eric Clapton was the best guitarist.

But it hadn't been a total loss, because Rebecca mercifully raced into the room and took over, with Beard having needed to be dragged from the room. She had followed after the coach, with the intent to tell him off, but got distracted when she saw Colin frowning by the water cooler.

"Aren't you supposed to be in weight training?" She asked him, ignoring her previous destination of strapping Beard to his chair and forcing him to go through media training. Colin's attention snapped towards her, like he hadn't known she was there previously, and Tate's brows knitted together in confusion. "Col?"

"Sorry, Tate." Colin shook his head as if to physically get rid of whatever was bothering him. "What'd you say, boyo?"

"I asked about weight training, but now I wanna know if everything's alright with you?" She asked carefully, watching his face for any hint of what was so clearly bothering him.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good." Colin nodded, his voice too tight and smile too forced, and Tate stayed silent in hopes that he would confess. He didn't, to her displeasure, but instead he swung an arm around her shoulders to lead her in the direction of the weight room and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Me and Isaac got into a bit of an argument, but don't worry about me."

"I think it's actually in my job description to worry about you boys," She told him, forcing a lightness to her voice because she could tell Colin wanted nothing more than for her to change the subject. "But I won't press. You'll tell me when you're ready, yeah?"

"You know I will," He kissed her temple again, as if he needed to comfort her, and that was more worrying than anything she'd witnessed so far. With a crease between her brow, Tate watched as Colin slipped into the weight room and back to the dumbbells he'd previously been lifting.

"Tate!" Sam called out once he spotted her, and it was only the call of her name that had her grin reappearing, Colin's odd actions filed away for later inspection. "I thought you couldn't come visit this morning?"

"I can't. Colin kinda kidnapped me in the hallway and led me here." She grinned, forcing herself to remain by the doorway, because if she stepped further into the room she wouldn't be getting any of her work done. She searched the room for Jamie, finding him by the bench press, though her shout to him died on her lips as she spotted who stood beside him. "What the fuck, Uncle Roy?"

"The fuck is your problem?" Roy asked, genuine confusion on his face as Tate crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm Tartt's coach, if I say he needs to do another set—"

"I don't care about how many reps Jamie's done," Tate huffed, ignoring Jamie's overly expressive look of disbelief at her declaration of not caring about his gym regime. "I'm talking about—"

The door to the weight room swung open, and Tate twisted quickly with a crease between her brows as Rebecca stood behind her, scowl on her face.

"Oi! Kent! Get your hairy ass into my office, now!" And then Rebecca was gone, not waiting for Roy to say a word or follow after her. The whole room was silent, and Tate bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning too noticeably.

"Every single one of you knows my ass isn't hairy. Yet none of you spoke up." Roy told the boys, and Tate's face twisted into a wince. "And I will never forgive you."