Hunter helps me up and sets me down on the bench.
“You’re getting your towel wet,” I say weakly.
“Shut up. Are you OK? Did you hit your head?”
I shake my head.
“I’ll go tell Coach,” says Hadley.
“No!” I urge. “I’m fine. Don’t bother him. I just need some water.”
“But she could sue the school…”
“Oh, Hadley! You would say that,” says Hunter, referring to the Hadley’s law firm family and its long history of attempts — and failures — to force the firing of one Greenbridge headmistress or another over the years. Yeah…this school is full of stories like that.
7
Weston
Adelaide shaved six seconds off her time today, and her muscles are getting stronger, more flexible. She’s a beast of a swimmer.
She must already know that.
8
Addie
At Friday’s practice, Coach Ford is dressed in a baggy t-shirt and loose board shorts.
Hunter frowns and mutters to me, “Where’d the tight little trunks go to?”
I shrug. I’ll admit to myself his new getup is little unprofessional, but at least I don’t have to look at the outline of his dick and then nearly concuss myself in the shower.
That night in bed, I ruminate on why Weston might have switched to baggy clothes instead of getting into the pool with us.
Ever since meeting him on the first day of practice, I have tossed and turned at night thinking about him.
It’s not fair.
A coach is supposed to be an old, boring adult who wears dad jeans, drives a minivan, and talks about the days before everyone had cell phones and social media. Coaches are not supposed to be unbelievably hot, recent college graduates.
You know what’s also not fair? The fact that I’m eighteen, and he doesn’t recognize me as a fully grown woman. All he cares about is whipping the team into shape and making Ridley demonstrate proper form. Like she’s a freaking goddess of the pool or something. Well, compared to me, she is.
I’ll show him. By the end of this season, I’ll have transformed myself from the team’s weakest link to the fastest female swimmer in school history. Maybe then he’ll speak to me like the adult I am. Maybe then I’ll be able to speak to him without my voice going all stupid and breathy when he’s around.
The truth is, anybody would have the drive to achieve her goals with Coach Ford in authority over them. He’s so commanding, it’s almost scary sometimes. When he furrows his brow as he looks over our disappointing times, it just makes me want to work harder. When he barks orders at us, my heart hammers, eager to get into the water and show him what I’m capable of.
And, oh god, when he blows his whistle, down-deep excitement blooms inside me knowing his eyes are going to be on me while I do whatever he asks. My craving to please him, to draw those deep brown eyes and severe expression my way, is all I can think about.
Unable to sleep, yet again, I give up. I roll over and pick up my phone and begin scrolling through my favorite social media timeline.
Coach Ford and I are not friends online, but there’s no reason I can’t creep on his page. I’m sure all the girls do it. Hunter even dared to send him a friend request. I wonder if he actually responded to that.
One way to find out… Unfortunately his privacy settings are such that I can’t see who he’s friends with. He doesn’t even list a relationship status of any kind. Frustrating.
I scroll down, but can see very little. Figures that a guy like that would also be social media savvy. I click on his cover photo, which looks like a group shot of him and a bunch of friends. They all look about his age, and from the surroundings, it appears they are at a concert together. Three guys and three females. One of the women, a redhead about his age, has her arm around his waist. The image shouldn’t be so upsetting to me.
But it’s not just upsetting. I’m obsessed with it. I have to find out who she is. Is she a girlfriend? Sister? They don’t look alike.