The Coaching Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #4)(31)

Anabelle is waiting when we’re done, long ponytail swaying back and forth as she walks toward me, holding out a water bottle.

“You thirsty?”

I brought my own bottle, but her gesture is sweet. I reach for it. “Thanks.”

Chug.

I stop walking in my tracks. Blurt out, “I think we should do it.”

“Do it as in…”

“Move in together.”

She sucks in an excited breath, hands clasped under her chin. “You do?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Really?” she squeals, beginning a small hop that makes her boobs bounce. “Oh my gosh, Elliot, I could kiss you right now!” On her tippy toes, Anabelle folds me into an enthusiastic hug, squeezing the stuffing out of me, burying her face in my chest. “Thank you!”

Then she does kiss me, right on the underside of my chin, along my jaw. One quick kiss and another hug before she backs away, practically leaping in the air.

Talking a mile a minute.

“How soon can I bring my stuff over,” she jokes, doing a little fast footwork around an imaginary ball. “I don’t have much, so this is going to be so easy!”

“This weekend? Tonight?” I joke. “I don’t know, what works for you?”

“This weekend? Tonight!” she kids back. “Seriously Elliot, I am so freaking pumped.” Her arms go up and she jogs ahead of me. “Eek! I’m moving out of my dad’s house! This is the best day ever!” she yells into the night air.

I bite back a smile, staring down at the ground.

When I glance up, Dev is shaking his head from side to side, a knowing grin on his asshole face.





Anabelle



“Daddy, I have something to tell you.”

It’s late, half past eleven, but he had a long practice tonight with the team and has only just gotten settled in the living room, feet up on an ottoman, remote pointed at the television.

When he tips his head to the side, ear in my direction, I know he’s listening.

I can barely contain my excitement.

“I think I found a place to live.”

My father doesn’t move a muscle, eyes trained on the TV screen.

“Dad, I said I—”

“I heard ya, pumpkin. As soon as you called me Daddy, I knew you were up to something. It’s just taking me a few seconds to absorb the information.”

I step farther into the room, sitting next to him on the couch, twisting my body to face his even though he’s staring straight ahead.

“It’s such a great place, Dad,” I babble. “Small, but there isn’t any maintenance, and I’ll have plenty of room for my stuff and a roommate. Just one, so, kind of perfect.”

He finally looks at me. “Where is this place?”

“Just on the opposite side of campus, near the university center. One block over—you’d be able to pop in sometimes to see me!”

“What about fire escapes? How many of them are there?”

“Uh, none? It’s only one level.”

“Smoke detectors?”

“I, uh, I didn’t count.”

My dad’s jaw twitches. “I suppose you didn’t look to see if there was a fire extinguisher, either.”

“No, but I can text my roommate and ask.”

“Who’s the landlord?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. I’m, uh, subleasing.”

“Do you have a signed contract?”

“Not yet, but I will—tomorrow,” I lie, making a mental note to find out about all those things so my father doesn’t have a coronary.

Dad’s mouth remains pulled into a straight line, somewhere between pursed and expressionless.

He looks kind of sad, actually.

“Dad, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He’s being dishonest, something he’s never been good at, and I frown, too. If he’s already not happy about me moving into my own place, how is he going to feel when I tell him I’m living with a guy?

It can’t happen.

At least not tonight.

He will find out soon enough and he. Will. Be. Pissed.

“I’m really excited, Dad. This place is perfection.” I know it’s rotten, but I lay the groundwork for a little guilt-tripping, unable to handle his silence. Wanting to move out but wanting to do it with a clear conscience. “You know how hard I’ve been looking…I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I am.”

My arms go around him and I squeeze. “Aww, are you being a big grump because you’re going to miss me? You are, aren’t you?”

He mumbles under his breath, “What kind of a dumbass question is that? Of course I’m going to miss you.”

Nope, not subtle at all—not my dad.

I let out a loud laugh before releasing him and fall back onto the couch cushions, giving his hair a tussle.

He grumbles. “Tell me about this roommate of yours. What’s she like?”

Oh shit.

“Uh, well…” Let’s see, how can I put this without being specific? “Plays soccer. Is good at, uh, science. Has everything we need so all I have to do is find a bed!”