by L A Cotton
“Yeah, how is coaching going, Keefer?”
I flinched, not liking Aubrey's tone.
“Oh, he loves his new gig up at the high school, don't you, dude?” Zac laughed and the girls scowled.
“Shut it, dick.”
“Oh yes, silly me, I forgot you have put up with Sharn Macer on a weekly basis, unlucky for you.”
My head whipped around to meet Simmy's smirk. She knew exactly what game she was playing.
“Simmy, don't talk about Sharn that way. You know Keefer has a soft spot for lost causes.” Zac brushed Aubrey aside and frowned. “Aubrey, stay out of it. You don't know what you're talking about.”
“Ah, baby, it's cute that you're sticking up for your friend. But Keefer should know what he's getting involved with. Sharn isn't exactly a one-guy type of girl, if you know what I mean.”
My fist slammed down onto the table and Simmy jumped. “I'll say this once.” I looked from Simmy to Aubrey and back again. “Talk about her again, and we'll have a problem. I know about the little stunt you pulled in 42nd's. Whatever happens or doesn't happen between me and Sharn Macer has fuck all to do with either of you.” I rose from the booth and nudged Simmy out until I was free. “And Simmy, it's never gonna happen.”
I left them wide-eyed and mouths gaping as I walked straight out of Durty's. I could hear Zac talking Aubrey down, who sounded like a banshee, but I didn't care. I was done listening to those bitches talk shit about the only girl I'd ever given two cents about.
As I rounded the corner toward my truck, my phone vibrated.
Zac: Sorry about Aubrey. You should've told me she was giving Sharn shit. I'm done with that. Call me tomorrow.
Zac was a good guy. I knew he’d have my back once he saw Aubrey’s true colors. I climbed in my truck and checked my watch. It was almost nine, but I wanted to stop by and see Dad. The weekend had been rough on him, with it being the anniversary. It always was, but he’d really surprised me, though, by holding his shit together.
Every year on the anniversary of Mom’s death, we spent the weekend together. Sometimes we’d go out of town—catch a game or visit his family—but mostly he got shitfaced and I played babysitter. Most days were a battle for him, but April 12th was always a war. This year we hadn’t actually left Gainesville—like I’d told Sharn. We’d holed ourselves up at the house, watching home movies of me as a kid, and ate junk food. He really seemed to be doing better. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but maybe this was it. Maybe he was finally on the road to recovery.
As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed Dad had tended to the lawn. It looked neater; not totally mowed straight, but it was a start.
“Hey, Dad. It’s me,” I called out, as I walked through the front door.
“Hey, son. I’m in here.”
I followed his voice into the kitchen, and almost fainted at the sight of him cooking. Dad never cooked.
“Don’t look so shocked, Keefer. I do know how to turn on the stove.”
I laughed and pulled up a stool to watch him.
“Thanks for the weekend, son. It’s always hard.”
“I know, Dad. I know.”
We weren’t the caring-sharing type, and we rarely talked about Mom’s death.
“So, how was school today? It was your session at the high school, right?”
“It was good.”
“Good, good? Or, just okay?” A slight smile played on his lips.
“What are you getting at, Dad?”
“I’m not blind, son. I saw you watch your phone all weekend, like you were waiting to hear from someone. And a Miss Macer’s name came up more than once. I put two and two together.”
Despite his shortcomings, Dad didn’t miss a beat, apparently.
“Umm, there might be a girl…a girl who I like.” Why was it so hard to talk about these things? Oh yeah, because I was twenty-three and never had the birds and the bees talk with my old man or any talk, in fact.
“And?”
I looked at him as he stirred the pasta sauce. He seemed so normal, so Dad-like—the guy I had needed him to be when I was just a kid. “Well, it’s hard. I don’t let people in. Don’t talk much. Don’t have experience…”
He dropped the wooden spoon onto the counter and turned to face me. “Son, I know life hasn’t been easy on you, but you deserve to be happy. You shouldn’t feel ashamed of the challenges that you’ve had to face or continue to face. They shape who you are. And you’ve turned out just fine. More than fine. You should be proud of who you are, son. Because I’m damn proud.”
I often found myself without words, but Dad’s little speech rendered me totally speechless. I had nothing. It was like looking at and listening to a different person—a person who I’ve spent the last fifteen years dreaming was my dad.
“Sorry, I’m not sure where that came from.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I think I needed to hear it. Anyway, what’s for dinner?”
~
After wolfing down a plate of Dad's spaghetti, which wasn’t actually that bad, I headed back to the apartment. I showered, changed, and threw myself into bed. Since Dad’s little heart to heart, I’d done nothing but think about Sharn. There was something between us. I couldn’t deny that but was I ready to share my life with someone? I still wasn’t sure. The only thing I knew for certain—I didn’t want to lose her. If that meant opening up a little, I’d try. I’d have to.
Sharn was the kind of girl who expected to be wined and dined. Hell, she deserved it. I didn’t doubt she’d enjoyed the drive-in, but she’d dressed to impress, and I’d turned up in my usual cargos and shirt. I wanted to make it up to her so I grabbed my phone and I started typing.
Me: Goodnight you. Be ready at 7.30pm Friday.
She replied right away.
Sharn: Okay – what should I wear?
Me: Dress up
Sharn: See you Friday
I rolled my head back onto the pillows and groaned—it was going to be a long three days.
~
By Friday afternoon, I was ready to explode. I'd had three busy days at juvie, but it wasn't enough to distract me from thinking of Sharn. We'd texted back and forth a few times, but it wasn't enough. I needed to see her, feel her close to me, taste her lips.
My plans for our second date were courtesy of Zac and Jase. My pride took a hit when I'd had to ask them for advice on where to take Sharn if I wanted to impress her. Zac was insistent that I just be myself and keep it low key, but after some persuasion from Jase, the two of them came up with a list of suggestions. They were getting too much satisfaction out of the whole thing.
As I pulled onto her street, I let out a sigh of relief as I scanned the empty driveway. I might have been ready to date her, but I wasn't ready to meet her folks. My hands felt slick against the steering wheel, and my heart was beating at double speed. Shit. My legs felt restricted in the maroon chinos I was wearing, and the button up shirt threatened to cut off my air supply. I'd even left off my Yankees cap; my hair styled in one of those looks-messy-but-was-perfect styles. I hardly recognized myself and felt totally out of my depth. But she was worth it.
Rolling into Sharn's driveway, I cut the engine. Before I could climb out of the cab, the front door opened and I felt sucker punched. The air literally left my lungs. She looked amazing. Big loose curls fell over her shoulders and framed her face. Her slim body was covered in a white crocheted dress that cut low on her chest, and the black simple pumps that she was wearing lengthened her legs. It hugged her curves in a way that made me think about skipping dinner and taking her straight back to my apartment. When her eyes caught mine, she smiled and I shook my head. Was this really happening?
Wanting to do the right thing, I jumped down out of the cab and met her at the passenger door. Before opening it, I placed a kiss on her cheek and a single rose in her hand. I'd never given a girl flowers before, but Sharn's grin told me it was the right move.
“Wow. Thank you.” Her eyes swept across
my chest and worked their way down to my abdomen and legs. The lazy smile on her lips suggested that she liked what she saw, which made the discomfort I was experiencing more bearable.
“You look amazing.”
She blushed and I couldn't resist. Forcing her backward with my body, her back bumped against the truck, and I leaned down to her and kissed her lips gently. She wound her hand into the hair at the base of my neck and brushed her lips against mine. Damn, the things you do to me. She smiled and I opened my eyes to watch her. Her big browns were staring back at me; questioning me. Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
I pulled back. “We should get going, or we'll be late.” I reluctantly let her go, and helped her up into the cab. After climbing in, I turned the key and headed toward downtown.
Fifteen minutes later, we were parked and standing outside the restaurant. The place looked like money. I wasn't worried about the cost, but I didn't want us to stand out. Sharn's big browns took in the small restaurant; the deep red and cream front, lit up with tiny lights.
We followed the host to a small round table with old-school wooden chairs. Sharn was walking up front, giving me the perfect opportunity to watch her. She looked perfectly at ease, whereas my insides were flipping out. I might have looked the part, but I sure as shit didn't feel it.
Once we were seated and had ordered drinks, we were left alone. Just the two of us. My hands felt clammy so I wiped them on my chinos. I wouldn't be able to use my usual method of distraction when our conversation got too intense. Fuck. What was I thinking? I wasn't this guy.
“Keefer, is everything okay?” She looked up at me and smiled. And a little piece of me died and drifted off to heaven. “Hmm- yeah. I'm fine. Are you? Do you like it here?”
She beamed. “It's so beautiful, and the menu looks amazing. Thank you... for bringing me here.”
We both focused on our menus, giving me time to try to pull my shit together. I scanned the prices; dinner was going to cost me a small fortune.
“Can I take your order please?” the server asked.
“I'll get the pork medallion thing with extra fries and bread, please.”
He frowned but didn't say anything at my request, turning his attention to Sharn.
“I'd like the Gio’s Chicken, please.”
“Primi?”
I stared at the server wondering what in the hell he was saying to me, and Sharn chuckled under her breath. “He's asking if we'd like anything to start.”
I felt stupid. Quickly scanning the menu, I said the first thing I spotted. “Calamari...” I looked at Sharn and she nodded. “To share, please.”
“Perfecto.”
“We didn't have to order starters,” Sharn said.
“I just wanted him to stop glaring at me.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Italian not your thing?”
“I like pasta; does that count?”
Sharn laughed and my body relaxed into the small chair. Maybe conversation would be easier than I thought. “Why did you bring me here, if you don't like Italian?”
I fought the blush threatening to spread over my face. “I wanted it to be nice. For you.”
“I would've been happy with a hot dog in your truck.”
She did blush, and I couldn't help the grin that broke over my face.
“Is it strange, being here...with me? When we went to the same high school but never spoke?”
“Not really. High school was a long time ago. We grew up.” I took a drink of beer out of the strange shaped glass.
“You're not bothered about what some people think about me?” She dropped her eyes and tucked her hands under the table, but I reached across to her, placing my hand down, palm facing up. She registered what I was doing and placed her tiny hand in mine. “Sharn, I don't give a shit what anyone says about you. I. Like. You.”
Her lips curled up, but I could tell it was forced. It didn't quite reach her eyes, like usual. My temper flared—I hated that she thought that I cared about what anyone else thought.
“I like you too, Coach.”
After the food, we finished our drinks and I settled the check. Conversation had been surprisingly easy. Sharn didn't ask me anything too heavy and avoided asking any specific questions about my family, which made me wonder if she knew I was hiding something.
She'd been more forthcoming about herself, and it turned out she didn't have the perfect family I'd assumed. Her mom sounded like a total bitch, and her dad was going to have to sell their family home. I caught the sadness in her eyes as she talked about it. She had one younger brother, and she had moved back to Gainesville after graduation the year before last. I'd almost choked on my pork when she mentioned an ex, but she skirted over it and I didn’t ask any questions. The idea of anyone else touching her or some douche breaking her heart didn’t sit well with me.
Her hand slid into mine as we exited the restaurant, pulling me from my thoughts. She calmed me, like my own personal stress ball. “What now, Coach?”
“You can't keep calling me that without consequences, you know?”
She giggled, but my lips found hers and cut her off. As I pulled back, she moaned. “You're killing me.”
“No, you're killing me, with all the coach talk. Come on, let’s go.”
~
The Lounge was crammed. Friday nights were always full of students, but it was the best club for a more chilled-out vibe. It had two rooms; a bar area and a dance area, then there was a huge covered courtyard. After navigating the line at the bar, I managed to get our drinks. We wound our way through the crowds of drunken, rowdy college kids and found an empty sofa at the far end of the courtyard. Sharn’s body moved in time to the music, and from how natural she made it look, I could tell she liked to dance—something I never did.
“It's really busy.” Her words sounded a little slurred.
“Are you drunk? You only had two glasses of wine with dinner,” I mocked. I'd switched to soda after a couple of beers—I was driving.
“I am not!” She gasped. “I'm just excited. I don't get out all that much.”
“What about your friend? The girl I saw you with at 42nds?”
She turned her body slightly, to face me. “Mae? We work together and have a Friday night ritual. She's married, though.”
My eyes glanced over her neck and chest, lingering over her low cut dress. I could just make out the curve of her tits.
“Hey.” She snapped her fingers in front of my nose. “My face is here, mister.”
Busted.
“I can't help where my eyes decide to look. Did you blow off your Friday night ritual with Mae for me?”
She blushed again. And my inner guy fist punched the air—I affected her as much as she affected me. “Maybe. Hmm-” She hesitated as if she wanted to ask me something. My stomach pooled with dread.
“Can I ask you something? Where did you go last weekend?”
Fuck. It would be so easy to tell her the truth—to let her in. But I choked, unable to do it. I didn't want to ruin the night—to see the pity in her eyes. I didn't want her to feel sorry for me. So I played the game I'd been playing from the start.
Leaning forward, I dipped my head and swept her hair away from her shoulder with my hand. As I brushed my lips against the soft spot underneath her ear, she trembled and I whispered, “Not tonight. I'll tell you but not tonight.”
She let out a breathy sign as I curled my arm around her waist and pulled her body flush to mine. Our lips found each other's, and I knew. This was it for me. She was it. But she still knew nothing about me, and that scared the shit out of me. I had to tell her. And soon. Or I'd lose her. Someone like Sharn wouldn’t play games for long.
After an hour of Sharn growing more and more tipsy, and our lips spending most the time joined together, I noticed her yawning.
“Ready to go?”
“Not really. I never want to leave.” She yawned. “But I'm tired. Sorry.”
I kissed her nose and tucke
d her into me. “Don't be. Let’s get you home.”
As we reached the exit, Sharn's hand was ripped from mine, and I spun around to see Deacon grabbing her. Sharn stared at him in alarm as he slurred out, “What's this? The whore and the little league coach?”
I moved in front of Sharn and glared at him. He was flanked by two other douches in tailored suits. My blood boiled, itching for release. “Don't fucking touch her.”
“Too late, Coach. Most guys around here have. It’s my turn next.”
It happened without a thought. I drove my fist into his face, the crack reverberating through me. Somewhere behind me, Sharn screamed, but I didn't have time to check on her as a fist pounded into my cheek. Pain exploded across my face. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. I managed to get another couple of hits in before someone jabbed my side. My hand dropped instinctively to protect myself, but left me wide open, just as Deacon's fist flew at my face again. He missed my nose but skimmed my right eye. I heard another scream, but the stars spinning in my field of vision made it difficult to pinpoint her.
“STOP, Deacon,” Sharn cried, and I threw myself at him, sending us crashing to the ground. Feet jumped back, out of our way.
“She's gotten right under your skin, hasn't she, Coach?” He kneed me in the groin, and I cursed. He was pushing all the right buttons, but I didn’t have time to retaliate as a pair of hulk-like arms surrounded me and dragged me away. Deacon had a split lip and a graze under his eye, but I knew I’d come off worse. My eye stung and the pain around my cheek burned right to the bone. Security dragged me through the crowd and Sharn trailed behind.
He forced me through the door. “Easy there.”
I shook him off and righted myself. Sharn grabbed my hand and I pulled her into my side.
Her voice shaky, she asked, “Are you okay?”
“Miss, I'll ask the questions. What happened?”
“He said something about my girlfriend and got grabby with her. I hit him. His buddies joined the party; you saw the rest.”
Sharn froze at the word girlfriend. Fuck. It just came out. I hadn't meant to say it.