Rock Bottom Girl(119)

“Have at it,” I said pointing at my head. I sat in my desk chair and faced the locker room while she tugged and twirled my hair into who knows what kind of a style.

Through my creeper window, I spotted Libby be-bopping toward her locker and held my breath.

She’d said she wasn’t going to the dance. No date. No dress.

What she hadn’t said was “No money for the ticket or everything else a dance required.” Ashlynn’s parents were hosting a team-wide sleepover after the dance in their finished basement. Libby planned to go home with Ashlynn’s parents and wait for the rest of the team. To me, that was unacceptable.

She frowned at the garment bag hanging from her door. Fingered the dance ticket stapled to the bag. With careful movements, she unzipped the bag, and part of the full black skirt spilled forth.

I bit my lip and hoped.

She glanced around and then pulled the dress out. It was edgy and fun, just like her. I’d found it on a rack in a department store when I’d been scouring the “you’re an adult and should dress like one” section for my own dress. Hers had a high neck and a full skirt. Pleather edged the skirt and waist and wrapped up around the neck. It was super hero meets skater girl. And it was exactly Libby. It cost twice as much as mine, and I cried when I bought it because it was so perfect.

Holding it, she turned and met my gaze. She held the look for a long beat and then mouthed “thank you” through the glass.

I held up my hands, fingers in the shape of a heart as my throat constricted. It was the best thing I’d done in a long-ass time.

“That was damn nice, Coach,” Morgan E. said through a mouthful of bobby pins.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sniffled.

She snorted. “Okay. You’re all set. Slap on some makeup and get ready to party.”

“Thanks, Morgan,” I told her, feeling around on my head and finding my hair in a low, fluffy bun.

“Thank you, Coach,” she said seriously. “For everything.”

“Get out of here,” I said, affectionately pushing her toward the door.

Morgan grinned. “See you on the dance floor.”

I waited until all the girls were dressed and on their way to the cafeteria before locking the locker room door. This was too good of a place to sneak away and make out in.

I stuffed the keys in my clutch and cut through the auditorium and headed toward the dance I’d missed all those years ago. Toward the man I’d fallen hard for twice now.

I pushed through the heavy doors of the senior hallway and stepped into the cafeteria. We’d eaten French bread pizza and green beans here earlier today. But since then, it had been transformed into a blue and silver crepe paper wonderland. There was a DJ, the same old-ass throne that they’d used for Homecoming back in the day, and dozens and dozens of students awkwardly masquerading as confident people in nicer clothing.

I spotted Jake near the refreshments laughing at something Amie Jo said to him.

Past experience had my stomach tying itself in knots. She was wearing a pink cocktail dress six shades too fancy for a simple chaperoning gig. It said, “I don’t want the students to get all the attention.”

I hated myself for looking at them and remembering twenty years ago. We were all different. We’d all grown and changed, I reminded myself. Well, maybe not Amie Jo. But Jake and I were different. He wasn’t passing me over for Amie Jo a second time.

I swallowed hard and slapped a smile on my face.

He’d run home to shower and change after getting caught in the celebratory ice water deluge on the field. He was sexy as hell in a dark pair of trousers and a dark gray jacket. His shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, and I wanted to taste him there.

I walked in, surprised and embarrassed by the spontaneous applause from the students. I knew what to do with failure and losses. But recognitions for victory were new to me and made me feel vaguely uncomfortable. I thought I’d be able to bask in the glow of admiration. But I felt more comfortable in the shadows.

Jake stopped in what looked like mid-sentence with Amie Jo and crossed to me, rescuing me from the spotlight. I breathed a small sigh of relief. He was always showing up for me.

“You look incredible,” he said, a wolfish glint in his eyes.

“Thank you,” I said. “The girls helped with my hair.”

“I really want to mess up your hair and makeup and find out what you’re wearing under that dress,” he confessed.

“You’re the worst chaperone in the history of chaperones,” I teased.

“I feel like celebrating tonight. What do you say we pop a bottle of bubbly when we get home, and I’ll pour it on you and lick it off?”

“If you get a hard-on in those pants, every student will be talking about it for the rest of the school year,” I warned him.

“Nice game, Coach,” one of my students said as he shimmied past me with a pretty junior on his arm.

“Thanks, Calvin.”

“Look at you knowing their names,” Jake said. He took my hand and spun me away from him before pulling me back in.

I did know their names. And who was unhealthily attached to their phone. Whose parents were going through a divorce. Who was going to whine about being forced to do yoga for forty-five minutes instead of an endless winter of volleyball. I’d learned as much as I’d taught. If not more.