“Oh.” His steps are heavy on the slate stairs as he approaches. “Are you guys OK?”
I laugh. “Are you actually here to have a conversation about my teenage problems? But yeah, she and I are good. I wish she wasn’t sneaking around so much, but she seems happy. Who knows—maybe she’s got it figured out. Unlike me. I’ll probably never understand my stupid feelings.”
“There you go,” he says, sitting down heavily on the wicker sofa next to me, “minimizing yourself. I don’t like it.”
I swivel toward him. “Care to tell me what you’re doing here?”
“Taking you home.”
I laugh. “Probably a good thing. Pretty sure Roland is drunk.”
Coach Ford’s hands clench into fists and I see a slight shake of his head. He’s angry and disgusted. “Little fucker.”
I laugh. “That’s one way to talk about students at your school, sir.”
“The school was full of shits like him when I was here.”
“Yeah…and weren’t you one of those shits? You were a god when you were a student at Greenbridge.”
He shrugs.
“Seriously. I had a crush on you starting when I was thirteen. I used to sit under your lifeguard chair every summer and you never even knew I was there.”
He laughs. “Oh, I knew you were there.”
It’s the first time I think I’ve ever heard him laugh. It’s glorious. “You did?”
“Yeah. You’ve grown up a lot since then.”
I blush, and I’m thankful it’s dark. I look up at his face. He’s sitting forward, his elbows on his knees, looking back at me. Even in the dark, his stoic face has me mesmerized.
He sits back so he’s even with me, his eyes still on me. He blinks. I pivot my shoulders toward him. The night breeze gives me a chill.
Coach Ford removes his coat and puts it around me. When his fingers graze my shoulders, my whole body shivers. He pauses, his hands still holding the jacket sleeves. Am I mistaken or did he lean into me about an inch or so?
My stomach does a somersault. Is this happening?
The next second, the back door opens and Roland stumbles out, goes over to the bushes, and pukes.
The coach stands up.
“Go get the other girls, we are leaving.”
I pop inside and tell Ridley, Hadley and Daphne a total lie that the cops are coming and that our coach is here to drive us home before they arrive.
When we start to pile into the truck, Roland hops in the back.
“This ride is full, son,” Coach Ford growls.
Roland leers over at me from the truck bed, smiles, and pats his lap. “Got room right here!”
All of a sudden, Coach Ford hops out, comes around and grabs Roland, pulling him out of the truck bed.
“Take my advice. Stay here and sleep it off. Or, get in and I dump your drunk ass off on your parents’ doorstep right before I text the AD that you’ve violated school rules about athletes and underage drinking. Your choice.” Roland chooses to stay, thank god.
23
Addie