The Billionaire's Secret Love Child(82)

“Come on, Sandy,” Jennie said, grabbing my arm to lead me inside.

The talking started again as I strolled past, and I could make out my name being uttered by several of the partygoers; my name was now followed by the word ‘sexy.'

Brad took up a place in the backyard over a large stainless steel grill, being crowded by a group of football players looking for conversation and food.

Jennie waved at Brad, who smiled at her briefly before his mouth dropped slightly at the sight of her new friend.

“Who is that,” Brad asked in an astonished tone.

“Brad, it’s me, Sandy,” I said proudly.

One of the football players jutted his arm around my waist.

“Hi, I’m Mike,” he said with a smiling and drunken expression on his face.

He was cute, but not in the way I liked. His round and dimpled face made him look as though he were several years younger than he was.

“Hi, Mike,” I replied.

“I think Jen said I might just be your type,” he said.

I nodded as he shoved a red plastic cup, full of beer, into my empty hand.

“I’m already four drinks in; you have some catching up to do,” he said.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, so I looked over at Jennie with a sort of surprised and disgusted look on my face as I took a sip of the frothy liquid.

“Do you wanna go somewhere and talk,” he added.

I sighed.

“Sure, let’s talk,” I said.

He grabbed me by the hand and pushed his way into the house, shooing a couple from the ruffled and musty old couch in the living room.

“Have a seat,” he said, playful pushing me down.

I wasn’t used to being pushed around by men, and I hadn’t any interest in starting now, but I wanted to see what the ‘new me’ would do.

I cozied up with the armrest and hid my face behind the plastic cup.

“I’ll get you another beer,” he said, sprinting off to the backyard.

Some cheering came from the front yard, and I was curious to see what was going on. I sat on my knees and peered over the back of the couch toward the front door. Coach Reynolds was making his way inside, a cheerleader or two in tow.

I quickly ducked behind the tall back of the couch, hoping that he hadn’t seen me. Then a shadow cast itself over me and looking up revealed that he had indeed noticed me.

“There’s no way that’s you,” he said.

“Who do you think it is,” I asked.

“Only one person I know has cheekbones like that,” he added as he paced around the couch. He plopped down by the other armrest and waved away his followers who looked at me with envious gazes.

“You made me want to try something new,” I said.

He laughed and crossed his legs.

“I’m surprised you came,” he said.

“Likewise,” I added.

“This is a good look for you. If only I were ten years younger, I might have tried harder to muster the courage to ask you out,” he said.

Ten years younger, I thought, he was still gorgeous now. I wanted to continue chatting, but Mike returned from the backyard.

“Hey, Coach,” he said while handing me the beer, “wasn’t expecting you to come.”

“Someone had to make sure you guys don’t drink yourselves stupid, just consider me more of a chaperone than a drinking buddy,” replied Coach Reynolds.

I took a long sip from the glass and felt out of sorts with the two of them here. I would have much preferred just to talk to the coach.

Mike plopped down in the center of the couch and threw his arm around me. I wanted to shove his arm off, but couldn’t muster the assertiveness to do so.

“So, Coach. How do you think we’ll do at the game?” Mike asked nonchalantly.

“I think you know where I stand on that,” he replied.

“You guys will do great,” I said, not adding much to the conversation.

The two guys looked at me, and I regretted saying anything at all.

“What makes you say that Sandy,” started Mr. Reynolds.

“Well, I’ve watched you guys practice a lot, and you guys always look good when running plays and stuff,” I said.

“If anything, they look good,” laughed Mr. Reynolds.

“Hey, you want a beer,” Mike asked.

“Sure, Mike,” the coach replied. Mike shot up, running to the backyard again.

“So, Mr. Reynolds, do you like the new look,” I asked, straightening out my top.

“Call me Jeff, Sandy,” he said.

“Okay, Jeff,” I replied uncomfortably.

“To answer your question; yes, you look fantastic.”

“Would you have talked to me ten years ago if I looked like this,” I asked.

“I’m not sure, I was pretty shy when I was younger,” he said.

“Well, if you had asked, I probably would have said yes,” I said.

He crossed his legs the other way, and I felt a little nervous baring myself like that. I hoped I hadn’t said anything inappropriate.

“You’re making me regret growing up,” he said.

“The car you drive makes me wonder if you ever did,” I replied.

He guffawed loudly, making a few people turn and wonder what we were talking about.