Rock Bottom Girl(28)

His hands were like warm, sexy vices on my biceps. What was it about this guy? I wanted to stare at him, follow him around, dissect his appeal. If I understood it, I could avoid it.

“At least I’m not vomiting this time,” I said.

His lips quirked, and his eyes crinkled. Hot damn. Crinkly eyes. Add that to the list of Things That Turn Me On.

“You seem to be holding up.”

“Made it through preseason, my first day of school, and I just hired as assistant coach. I might just survive this semester.”

“That’s the spirit.” His fingers squeezed my arms once before letting me go. My flesh sizzled from his fingerprints. “Hey, if you need any teaching or coaching tips, I’m your man.”

I’m pretty sure I wet my lips in that stupid “I’m fantasizing about licking every inch of your body” way because his eyes narrowed just a little bit, and he snagged his bottom lip with his teeth. Then he was winking and walking away.

My face was flaming when I walked into the chaos of the locker room. There were girls everywhere in various states of undress. I averted my eyes and ducked into my office. I needed to change, too. But I wasn’t going to do it in front of students. I’d already puked in front of them. They didn’t need to see my mismatched bra and underwear, too. I grabbed my gym bag and hustled back out of the locker room to the nearest restroom. I wrestled my way into my sports bra, knocking my elbow into the stall wall and seeing stars. Dressing quickly and clumsily, I hurried back out. I cut through the gym and headed straight to the practice field.

Our first game was coming up in two days, and we were not ready. I didn’t know how to make us ready. Hopefully Vicky would have a suggestion or ten to get us on track.

I took the concrete stairs to the practice field in hopes that they’d be less steep than the hill itself. No such luck. At the top, I found half of my team staring down what looked like the better part of the boys soccer team.

“This is our field time,” Angela announced.

A man wearing shorts that were entirely too short and a very shiny whistle leaned into her face. “Too bad, sweetheart. They’re reseeding our field, and we need to practice. So you can take your PMS and get off my field.”

Angela looked like she was one second away from kicking him in the balls.

“Excuse me,” I said, using my most authoritative voice.

“You’re excused,” he said dismissively. “We’re gonna start with a header drill, men.”

“No, you’re not,” I said, stopping in front of him.

“No you’re not,” one of the boys mimicked in a falsetto. It was that fucking Milton kid.

“You feel like running some more laps, Floppy?” I asked.

Ruby’s jaw dropped, and Sophie S. looked like she couldn’t decide if she was going to laugh or cry.

“You don’t have any authority over my players,” Short Shorts announced, sticking his hairy-knuckled finger in my face.

“Oooh,” I winced. “Actually I do. I’m a teacher, and this is school property, soooo…” I wasn’t sure if my authority carried over to after-school hours. But this asshole was trying to steal my field.

“Bull. Shit.” He enunciated.

“Is that what I smelled?” I asked sweetly. “You’re not taking our field.”

“Why don’t we ask an administrator? Who do you think they’ll side with? A temporary, no-experience coach and her loser girls or last year’s district champs?”

Milton moved to stand beside his coach. “Why don’t you ladies go prance around with the cheer squad?” he suggested.

Sophie S. made a dive for his face, but Ruby caught her and pulled her back. Milton gave them both a little finger waggle.

“Take a hike, ladies,” Short Shorts snapped.

“There a problem here?” Vicky, in her athleisure glory, marched across the field.

“How about this? Coaches Challenge. Half-field sprint. Winner’s team gets the field,” Short Shorts said, snapping his fingers.

Vicky sidled up to me. “Listen, I hope you’re fast because the last time I ran, it was after an ice cream truck, and I peed myself a little.”





17





Marley





“I can’t believe you didn’t even try,” Morgan E. complained.

Our entire team was mid-walk of shame up the street to commandeer an elementary school field, having lost our field to the guys team.

“You’ve seen me run. I have that vomiting problem.”

“You should have at least tried,” Angela put in.

“Me losing to Short Shorts wouldn’t have done any of us any good,” I insisted. Thank God Lisabeth hadn’t shown up for practice today. I could only imagine the nastiness my giving up would have provoked.

“Come on, ladies,” Vicky barked, rounding up the stragglers like she’d been a coach all her life.

I looked over my shoulder to where Ruby and Sophie S. were walking in sullen silence next to each other. “Okay. I gotta ask. What did you two see in that floppy-haired idiot?”

They glanced at each other and away again quickly.

“Come on. I need to know.”

The girls’ cleats made a hollow clacking noise on the asphalt.