by Claire Adams
"I love you, Ford."
This time, he was at a loss for words, but there was no doubt how he took the news. Ford strode across the office and swept me up in his arms. We spun three times before he pulled me to him, and in front of the entire Mirror staff, we kissed as if the world had faded away.
The raucous cheer that met our ears was enough of a reminder.
"The walls are glass, aren't they?" Ford asked. His face was still a mix of wonder and relief. "Everyone saw everything."
"Isn't it great?" I asked. "We don't have to worry about who sees us or not."
Ford brushed his lips against mine again. "Because we're just two people in love."
"Yes," I laughed. Then I unhooked my arms from around his neck. "But you are also the person under deadline and, trust me, I know how that feels."
Ford spun away with a hundred last-minute things to do, but he stopped at the door and circled back to me. "You came all the way to my office just to tell me you love me?"
"Yes. I didn't say it this morning, and I didn't know why."
He stopped, and his face sobered. "Why didn't you?"
I reached up and brushed a hand over his cheek. The caress drew the scent of his aftershave to my senses, and I was dizzy with happiness. "I've never been in love before," I confessed.
Ford laughed and scooped me back into his arms. "Then I've never been in love before either because I've never felt like this before."
"Like what?" I asked with a challenge in my eyes.
This time, it didn't matter that the walls were glass. When our lips met it felt like time stood still. Outside, the office worked at a frantic pace, but for just a moment longer, there was only Ford and I in the world.
I thought of Lexi and her engagement ring, Jasmine and her new romance, and my father finally with his dream artist. The world slowly came back, but I welcomed each part of it. The people around us had seen it from the very beginning, and Ford and I had just caught up. It felt good to finally know what everyone had realized long before us.
"Please wait right here. Jackson didn't give you any homework, did he?" Ford asked.
"Just a few new comments, but nothing I have to do this weekend." I waved the short story pages.
Ford frowned at all the red marks. "I thought he liked it."
I smiled. "Professor Rumsfeld gives great feedback. And my story was very well received in class."
"So? Is it the one?" Ford asked.
It felt like sunlight spreading across my chest. Everything felt right. "Yes, I think it's the one."
Ford kissed me again. "I'm so proud of you, Clarity. You're going to do it, right?"
"Yes, I'm entering the contest. There's no predicting if the judges will like it but—"
"But if you win, you'll be on your way to getting published at the same time as you graduate from Landsman College." Ford grinned and squeezed both my hands. "That's a reason to celebrate if I ever heard one."
"I've heard one better," I said.
Ford pulled my hands to his lips. "Tell me again."
"I love you, and you love me. That's the only reason I want to celebrate."
An alarm clock sounded on the floor, and all the newspaper staff members jumped up from their desk. A big monitor on the far wall flickered to life, and the IT staff fluttered around getting the last-minute codes in place.
Ford looked from the newspaper floor, poised to publish, and then back to me.
"Go on; I don't mind waiting," I said.
"Put that in the top drawer of my desk. It locks, and it will still be here when we get back."
"Get back?" I asked.
"Sorry, I have to go take care of this," Ford slipped onto the floor and took care of the final details before he could publish the new online edition of The Mirror.
I took a seat at his desk and unlocked the drawer he suggested. Once my short story was inside, I sat back and took a moment to breathe. It was impossible to not want everything all at once. Then I thought about how far we'd come. From strangers at my father's party, to a student and professor, to journalists fighting against a well-funded enemy.
"What's that look?" Ford asked when he returned.
"Life just keeps getting better and better with you," I said.
Ford sat on the corner of the desk and tapped the locked drawer. "Listen, Clarity, I understand if you want to spend the weekend working on your short story. It's a huge deal. When you win the contest, you'll have the chance to find an agent or a publisher."
I shook my head. "I'm not in it for the money or the accolades," I said.
"Those things are important," Ford said.
I leaned back in his office chair and fixed him with a sharp look. "This coming from the man that is currently missing his own awards reception at Landsman College."
"It's only for being a good example. They don't expect me to actually show up to receive it," Ford joked.
I crossed my arms. "I thought we had fun the last time we were dressed up and on campus."
He smiled at the memory of me in my formal, black dress. "Well, we could go and do that, but I really had something else in mind."
"Do I have to remind you again that these walls are glass?" I joked.
Ford grinned and stood up. He held out both hands and pulled me to my feet. "Nah, I don't have to hide this from my staff because they covered for me while I went home and got everything packed."
His intern lugged two suitcases to the office door and dropped them off with a jaunty salute.
I looked from the suitcases to Ford in surprise. "What's this?"
"This," Ford said, taking my arm and gathering up the suitcases in his other hand. "Is me taking you away on a road trip."
We went out the office doors and found his car waiting at the curb.
"A road trip?" I asked with tears of joy. "I hope it has plenty of detours."
EPILOGUE
"It's okay to admit if you're lost," I said.
Ford scowled and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. I'd never seen him so tense on a road trip. He pushed the accelerator down and seemed determined to beat the clouds to the horizon.
"I'm not lost, I'm just trying to find something special," Ford said between clenched teeth.
"Hey," I joked, "I thought I was your something special."
Ford's jaw relaxed a little. "You're something else, that's for sure. I was just hoping to catch a good sunset before we have to get back to town. Hang on!" He pulled hard on the wheel, and we skidded into the gravel parking lot of a scenic overlook.
I laughed. "This is the same exact overlook you brought me to two years ago. Remember? We finally left on our first road trip, and we stopped here to enjoy the sunset."
Ford leaned back in the driver's seat and shrugged. "Really? I can't quite remember. That was two years and two dozen adventures ago."
"Come on, was the book tour really that bad?" I asked.
"Twelve cities in ten days? No." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "I loved every minute of it."
"You're just anxious to get back to The Mirror and dive back into work," I concluded. "I get it. When you find the work you love, it's hard to be away from it."
"I think people say that about people more often than work," Ford chuckled.
"So, I'm ambitious. I thought you loved that about me. Besides, I'm not the one under deadline at the moment. Don't you have the first fall publication due out at the end of the week?" I asked.
Ford shifted in his car seat and smiled softly at me. "That's right. It's almost Thanksgiving. It's almost exactly the day that I first met you."
I grinned. "Remember what we talked about?"
"I remember you telling me about the headline game you liked to play. How about this one: Couple Misses Stunning Sunset, Stuck in Car."
I laughed and reached for my door handle. Ford jumped out and ran around to open the car door for me. "Here's one for you: Exhausted Editor Fills Empty Spaces with Headlines."
Ford laugh
ed and pulled me out to the scenic overlook. The sun was still warm as it nudged against the horizon. Still, there was chill sent to the air that meant autumn was on its way. It was my favorite season, especially when Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away.
"Did I tell you that my father and Polly will be home from Cuba in time for Thanksgiving?" I asked.
"I know. Your father mentioned it when I talked to him the other day." Ford popped his mouth shut and admired the sunset with a sudden keen interest.
"Oh, no, what are you and my father planning now?" I asked. "I can just imagine the headline: Men Plan Elaborate Feast, Use Every Dish in the Kitchen."
I laughed at my own joke and turned, but Ford was gone.
He was down on one knee. The sky streaked with reds and golds as he reached for my hand. "I have one last headline for you: Will you marry me?"
I dropped to my knees and kissed Ford a dozen times over before I took a breath and said, "Yes. And you can quote me on that.
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BAD COACH
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
Chapter One
Eryn
The tension in the air was almost tangible. Everyone's nerves were on edge, everyone's breath was held, and my team was collectively hanging in the balance. After four hard-fought rounds, it had come down to this one play. The games were tied up at two apiece, and we stood at the ready to defend our one-point lead. At 14 to 13, this could be the deciding play. If we took this point, we'd take the game and the match.
Our opponent, however, had the serve. I was positioned at the net on the left: my favorite position. I watched the serve come in, waited for it to be received – which it successfully was – and then sent back over the net.
Over the net…and right in the direction of their two best players, Kelly and Tammy. They always worked as a pair, and I could see the setup for a spike coming from a mile away. I dashed in fast and low, correctly anticipating the spike, and managed to block it with a low dive. In the process, I set it up for a perfect counter-spike, which my best friend Leena smashed with almost poetic perfection.
The ball zipped between two players and bounced just inside the line. We had the point.
My team let out a cheer of victory, and we all rushed in to hug each other. I gripped Leena tightly, smiling and basking in the joy of our victory.
“That was a perfect block!” she exclaimed. “How did you see that spike coming?”
I shrugged as I detached myself from our embrace. “K and T weren't exactly subtle with their movements. I saw it coming.”
“Really? ‘Cause, I didn't.”
I glanced across and saw the pair of them glaring daggers at me. They were clearly not happy about the fact that I'd ruined what they had thought was a perfect setup maneuver. I couldn't understand why they were so mad, though. It was just practice, wasn't it?
The harsh blast of a whistle jolted me from my thoughts.
“All right, ladies, gather round! Before y’all hit the showers, I just want to tell you about this coach situation.”
My practice team, the second string, mingled with the team of starters we had been playing against and gathered around Coach Hatting. Coach Hatting had temporarily come out of retirement to coach us over the past few weeks while the powers that be searched for a new coach. His small, blue eyes swept across the crowd of young women in front of him while he chewed gum, causing his square, stubble-covered jaw to move back and forth like a bull's and crinkle the heavy wrinkles around his eyes.
“Now, as y’all know, today was my last practice with you ladies. I'm too old for this, gosh darn it. And as much as I love the game, I've got a beach house that needs fixing and a fishing boat that ain't seeing nearly enough use. I only came out of retirement because of the incident involving your previous coach, but we ain't gonna speak about that now. Water under the bridge.
“You all did well today – and some of you did exceptionally well.” A rush of nerves washed over me as his eyes met mine.
“Miss Barnett,” he said to me, “only God knows why you haven't been on the starting lineup the last two years, but if I had been the coach during your time here, you'd have been a starter for every single game.”
I couldn't help but blush and feel a gush of pride – and sadness at the same time. Coach Hatting was right. For three preseasons, I'd worked my butt off, but had never been picked for the starting lineup. The team all had theories as to why that was, but of course, we couldn't say anything – not until the allegations against our former coach had been proven.
“Anyways, Miss Barnett, I'll be speaking to the new coach about you and giving him a strong recommendation that you be included in the lineup. And you as well, Miss Sykes,” he said, looking now at Leena.
“As for the rest of you, some of those who have been consistently placed on the starting line…well, I have to be honest. If it were up to me, some of you would be warming benches. I'll be speaking to the new coach about that, too, mark my words.”
Leena and I both discreetly glanced across at Tammy and Kelly. Their faces reddened with what I was certain to be both embarrassment and rage. Both had been starters since our freshman year, regardless of their performance. Now for the first time, the certainty that they would simply make the starting lineup without putting in any effort wasn’t as secure as they might have thought, and the looks on their faces said they didn't like it – not one bit.
“Before I say my farewells,” Coach Hatting continued, “let me tell you a bit about the new coach. First up, he's a lot younger than I am – and I'd say a sight better looking, too, so you young ladies better keep your eyes on the ball and not the piece of eye candy that's coming in!”
We all laughed, and Coach Hatting chuckled at his own joke. Despite his often harsh attitude on the court, he had a soft heart underneath it all.
“The new coach’s name hasn’t been announced to the press yet. The board wanted you ladies to hear it first. But, it will be public knowledge later this evening. His name is Wade Vinson. I'm sure most of you have heard of him.”
A ripple of hushed whispers rolled through the gathered volleyball players, and I knew exactly why.
Wade Vinson was something of a celebrity, not only in the volleyball world, but in the gossip magazines and tabloids, as well. He'd recently split from a two-year relationship with Hollywood A-list actress Georgia Jackson amidst a storm of controversy and rumors. It had been all over the press and social media a few months back.
“As y’all know, Mr. Vinson is an ex-pro and won Olympic gold, so he knows his stuff. And, y’all know how he helped coach the UCLA men's team to a top spot two years in a row, so we're really hoping he can do the same for you.
“Also, he happens to be a graduate of this very university, though I’m sure some of you know that, too. He and his teammates put Florida State University on the map in the volleyball world. I should know, I coached him back in the day when he was a rising star here. And I can tell you, the man has skills on the volleyball court!
“Anyways, he'll be here on Monday to start practices. I wish you young ladies all the best. There's some fantastic potential, some amazing talent right here in front of me, and I sure do hope that Mr. Vinson puts his all into developing it as best he can. As for me – that's all for now, folks. It's been a good – if tiring – few weeks.”
“Thank you, Coach Hatting!” many of us shouted together.
He smiled, and I almost thought I caught sight of tears sparkling in his eyes as he waved goodby
e to us. Then, he turned around and shuffled off. The girls started to disperse, picking up water bottles, towels, and gym bags, and heading to the locker room to hit the showers.
Leena and I gathered our things and talked on the way to the showers.
“I'm actually kinda sad to see Coach Hatting go,” I confided. “He's been so good, and I’ve learned a few things from him. Not to mention, he’s so fair.”
“Yeah, he's really great,” replied Leena, “but how cool is it that Wade freakin' Vinson is coming to coach us! Like, oh my God! Not only is he a gold medalist and former pro, but he's super hot, too.”
She giggled, and I leaned into her shoulder with mine playfully.
“Come on, Leena, don't be ridiculous.”
“What? You don't think he's just gorgeous?”
I rolled my eyes. “All right, he's pretty damn good looking. But from what I hear, he's a bit of a douchebag, and you know with all this Hollywood gossip stuff and him being involved in those kind of circles, the odds are those rumors are likely true. And jeez, what are we even doing talking about him like that! I mean, he's like 30-something. Seriously. I'm 21, you're 20. He's old!”
“Hey, 32 isn't that much older than us, Eryn,” countered Leena. “Hell, I'd do him.”
I gasped with mock shock. “Noooo, Leena! You slut!” I joked, and we both laughed.
“Yep, that’s me. Leena the slut. But in all seriousness,” she said, “I think it'll be a good thing. I mean, you heard what Coach Hatting just said. He's gonna recommend us as starters to Vinson when he talks to him! We've both been dreaming of this and working our asses off for it for so long now. Especially you, with all the extra practices and workouts you put in.”
I nodded. “It's definitely been a long time coming. But you know what they say about hard work – it does pay off in the end. And hopefully, it's about to pay off for us in a big way.”
“Yeah, now that we no longer have a coach who chooses who's in the starting lineup based on how big a bribe her parents paid him.”