The Coach's Daughter

Chapter 12

"She's interested in the party, not you."

"For now." His tone is awfully confident.

I huff. "Do you have an address or not?"

"No one plans parties two weeks in advance, loser."

I'm not particularly offended by this name. His tone isn't mean.

"Well, will you have an address?" I correct myself tiredly.

"Of course," he answers simply.

"Will you send it to me?" I ask with an internal sigh. Do I have to ask him for every little thing?

"I can," he replies then adds, "what do I get in return?"

Is he serious? "Forget it. I'll ask Jaden."

"Oh come on. Don't be lame."

Now, I know the smart thing to do would be to just hang up but I decide to take the bait. "What do you want?"

He's definitely grinning right now. "I'll think of something," he says dismissively.

That's reassuring. I hate not knowing the outcome of something.

"Fine," I agree simply because I need to go back to studying. "I have one more question."

"No, I don't do relationships," he answers before I can even ask anything.

"What?" I sputter. "I wasn't..."

"That's the type of question I tend to attract," is his explanation. "Well, that and how big is my-"

"That's not what I was gonna ask!" I exclaim, positive that my face is red. Thankfully, for once, he can't see my blush although I doubt he's unaware of it.

"Of course not," he agrees flatly. "You're too vanilla." It's almost like a dare, the way he says it, but I'm not going to fall for this one.

"How did you know that was my first kiss?" I ask.

He falls silent on the other side and I'm thinking he full-on got up and left until he says, "I didn't. I thought it was a joke."

My brows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"In the locker room, I heard some guys talking and that tool, Brad Lockwood, was talking about how you've never kissed a guy. I thought he was lying. I wouldn't have brought it up if I knew it was true."

My heart sinks. Brad Lockwood... Last year, he tried to make a move on me like he does with half of the girls in the school and he got pissed when I resisted because he expected me to be "desperate" and "grateful a guy like him even talked to me." I'm positive what Zack gave me was the censored version and his locker room talk went beyond "she's never kissed anyone."

Memories of how Brad tried to impress me with his expensive car and fake manners only to try to feel me up after getting to know me for a mere 15 minutes fill my head. He really drove us straight to an old parking lot, expecting something. All the names he called me when I got out of his car replay in my mind.

I remember walking home alone that night in freezing weather until my phone caught signal again. I found out a couple of days later that that's what he does: pick girls who don't get a lot of attention from guys and try to hook up with them. The thought makes me tighten my grip on my phone.

"You there?" Zack asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"I'm gonna go." Before he can ask any more questions, I hang up.

---

That night, I'm tossing and turning until four A.M. even though I'm usually asleep by two.

First, it's stress: my SAT scores are coming out soon, I need to bring my Stats grade up to a 93 before the next test, and I keep forgetting the chords in the middle of my Chopin piece for my biggest competition. Also, I can't believe that jerk, Brad Lockwood, is still talking about me.

Then, it's excitement. The vintage copy of Little Women that I scoured the internet and got a good bargain for is arriving tomorrow. I don't know when I'm going to have time to read it, though.

Third is my recollection of every single embarrassing moment of my life: when I walked around with my period stain on my butt and Eddie Shi saw me, all the times I was added to project groups because I had no friends.

But my final thoughts of the night are the worst: Jaden's smile that's too pretty to belong to a guy, how jealous I am of their loving relationship. Guilt floods through me for even thinking about him and my thoughts shift to the scent of a campfire; dark, glowering eyes; and a flexing arm that drives stick-shift.

I can show you what a real one is like...

Even his goddamn lips are pretty: full, never chapped, and almost always pulled into a smirk I want to slap away. I wonder if his hands are soft or callused. I imagine the feeling of them against my skin.

Holy shit.

I'm a pervert. Why am I thinking about these things? My whole body is hot, from embarrassment I assume. Honestly, I don't even know how to explain my body's reactions.

I must be tired.

Closing my eyes, I force myself to think of Mr. Bean and only Mr. Bean until my body returns to its normal temperature. Sure enough, I fall asleep within minutes but when I wake up, I'm filled with horror. I hop out of bed immediately and splash my face with ice-cold water.

I dreamed about him.

This is not good.

A/N:  Thank you to everyone who has read this story so far. Votes and comments r appreciated! Stay safe and enjoyyy <3