Lessons On Love

3: Future Boyfriend Or Future Enemy

            “Coach, she’s in there,” someone shouted. “In the shower room.”

            “Crap.” I gritted my teeth. I knew a tight pinch when I felt one and being caught by Coach Buckerfield was probably one of the worst. My eyes quickly flickered up to meet Marshall’s. “I can’t get caught,” I told him. “Hide me.”

            His jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? How?! What do you expect me to do?!”

            “I don’t care. Just make something up.”

            Hesitation showed in his eyes before he quickly pointed to the left corner of the room. “Hide there,” he said. “The last stall.”

            I booked it, and not even a second after I settled in the hiding place Marshall arranged for me, I heard the loud slam of a door being swung opened with incredible force. “Pittsburgh!”

            “Coach!”

            “Did a girl come in here?!”

            I held my breath and prayed that Marshall could think up a half decent excuse.

            “Yeah, she did!” He suddenly screamed. “She’s right there hiding in the last stall. I have no idea who she is, but she was trying to make me to do weird things to her!”

            At that moment, I wasn’t sure what I felt inside, but before I could really get the thoughts in my head organized, Coach Buckerfield’s shoes appeared in front of me. “If it isn’t the infamous Camila Jones? How did I guess it could only be you.”

            I slowly stood up, aware that the shower room was now infiltrated with male onlookers. Pushing off the fact that I was highly outnumbered, I lifted my chin up with dignity. “I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

            Buckerfield laughed. “Sweetheart, you’re standing in the middle of a room full of naked guys.”

            I crossed my arms in front me. “So?”

            The walk of shame down to the principal’s office wasn’t really shameful as it was annoying, but once I managed to make it pass the main school foyer and into the administration building, the familiar feeling of getting in trouble came back to me.

            There was one really good thing about having Diana Hoskins as my principal, and at the same time, there was one really horrible thing. The good thing was that I got away with everything because at 39, still single and unwed – and most likely desperate – she was trying to seduce my dad. The bad thing was... well, she was trying to seduce my dad.

            I arched an eyebrow in disgust as she rang him up at work, smiling overly happy as she pushed back a curl that had fallen in between her hazel eyes, and manually pulling down her V-neck blouse to reveal more of her breasts. “Hello? Anthony?” She chirped. “This is Diana Hoskins, Camila’s principal. Yes! Yes! I’m doing fabulous, how are you?”

            I inwardly groaned as she giggled blatantly at him – again, popping her breasts out so that I could make out the lining of her bra. “Ms. Hoskins, stop touching them!” I shouted. “My dad can’t see your tits through the phone!”

            Immediately she turned to me, her mouth agape and her eyes edging out of their sockets before she threw me a glare and put a finger over her lips. “Oh lord,” she giggled. “Really?! That must have been embarrassing! So what happened after?”