“Sammy,” Gen said throwing a ball at me whacking me right on the face. I gripped my face in my hand, sliding my hands across my cheek in pain.
“Gen! That hit me right in the face,” I whined as the ball rolled to the other side of the gym.
“Well maybe you should stop drooling over Coach Westhall,” she said giving me one of her famous “I don’t care” faces. I rolled my eyes, jogging to get the ball from the side of the wall. I stuck my tongue out at her, as my eyes flickered over to Coach Westhall. His eyes were glued to his clipboard unfortunately. I’m assuming he was checking off who was here and who wasn’t.
But god, how can Gen be so cruel? It wasn’t my fault Coach Westhall happened to be so attractive. He was fit, young, a dirty blonde and had a face one would die for. He was one of the reasons I had joined the baseball team and I absolutely suck at baseball. He was the head coach and I was willing to suck if I got to spend my afternoons drooling over him like the lovesick teenager I am.
“Sam! Look out,” I heard Gen shout. I turned around just in time to get elbowed in the stomach. I groaned, clutching my stomach. When did daydreaming get so dangerous?
“Sorry dude,” one of the bigger upperclassmen jocks who names escapes me at the moment mumbled. Apparently he had been trying to catch a football, but instead caught me in the head. I groaned as I fell to the ground in pain.
Gen rushed over to me, helping me over to the bleachers.
“I think I might be dying,” I choked out dramatically. Coach Westhall came towards me, his hazel brown eyes focused on mine. I could tell he was really concerned with my physical well-being.
My hero.
“Sam, are you alright? You got hit pretty badly there,” Coach Westhall said resting his hand on my shoulder.
“I –I,” I began stumbling across my words, but I wasn’t able to generate a comprehendible response. My face burned red, as a bunch of gibberish left my mouth. Gen slapped her forehead at the sight of me. I was a bumbling mess. I had never been so close to Coach Westhall nor had I ever been touched by him either. I would never wash this shirt ever again.
“Do you need to go to the nurse?” Coach Westhall asked. “Can you stand?”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly standing up and trying to distance myself as far as possible from Coach Westhall before I embarrassed myself any further. He probably thinks I’m a lunatic.
“Sam! Ah! Sit out for the rest of gym,” he said grabbing my shoulder. “You’re like a magnet for disaster. You can grade some quizzes in my office instead.”
I stared at Gen blankly for a moment as she shook her head at me. Coach Westhall ushered me to the boy’s locker room, leading me into his office. I had only ever been in it twice, the first time because someone had stolen my gym shorts and the second, when Ryan Harding decided to make me his punching bag for the entire semester. Thankfully, he switched schools last year.
“Sit down,” Coach Westhall said his eyes focused on mine. He opened his side drawer, pulling a stack of papers out. He handed me the answer sheet, and told me to just mark the ones that were wrong. I was listening, but I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the stack of quizzes. He was so close to me I could feel his breath on my neck. Hell, all I could focus on was those smooth lips of his and the richness of his voice. The thought of his lips on mine was enough to make my pants tighten.
Sam, do you like it rough?
“Be gentle, I’m a virgin,” I said aloud, realizing that I wasn’t in my delicious fantasy anymore. My face instantly turned red in embarrassment as Coach Westhall gave me a questioning look.
