Possessive Coach

“Oh, for sure. Like, everyone’s on your side. Seriously, Chloe, anyone that brings it up, I always tell them how nice you are and how you don’t deserve that.” She leans closer. “Do you know who did it?”

I shake my head, heart hammering. I want to tell her so bad that Erik’s the bastard who put it up, but I keep my mouth shut. It’s obvious that anything I say or do about this will get around to the entire school, and right now, I’d rather not make things any worse than they already are.

“Well, that sucks,” she says. “If I find out, I’ll tell you. Ugh, I’m sorry, I’m so dumb, I should just keep my stupid mouth shut.”

“It’s okay, Emily,” I say, making my smile bigger, even though I just feel like crying. “Thanks for saying nice things about me. I appreciate that.”

“Of course.” She chews her lip. “You should, like, come by the softball house sometime. It’s fun, I mean, we have parties and whatever, boys come too sometimes, and we’re just… chill, you know?”

“I’d like that.”

“Awesome. Okay, cool.” She grins, flushes, and seems relieved. “All right, well, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

She pushes back her chair, slings her bag over her shoulder, and hurries out the door. I lean back and close my eyes a second, breathing deep to steady myself. Thankfully, I’m alone, since all the other tutoring sessions ended without the learners showing up. I was the only one that got saddled with actual teaching today.

But I’m glad I did. Emily’s a sweet girl and I know she doesn’t mean to upset me. She just wanted to talk about what happened. Still, the thought that people are talking about me makes me want to scream and rip my hair out. I’m not the kind of girl that wants attention, especially not that kind of attention.

I close my eyes and force the tears back. I’m not going to cry, not in this stupid room with its uncomfortable chairs, ugly tables, and horrible lighting. I’m going to suck it up like a big girl, go back to my apartment, curl up under my soft comforter, and cry there.

I hear the door open again and I lean forward, opening my eyes. I expect to see Emily, and I’m about to ask her what she forgot, but the words die in my throat.

Erik Pacific stands there with a big grin on his face.

He’s wearing athletic shorts, a polo shirt, high black socks, and sandals. He grins at me and shoves back his thick blond hair. “Hey, Chloe,” he says.

“What do you want?” I ask, pushing my chair back. I’m about to get up and run out of there. My eyes dart around the room, looking for another exit, but he’s in front of the only doors.

“Just want to talk.” He puts his hands up. “I promise. No pranks, no bullshit. Just a conversation. How about that?”

I clench my jaw for a second. “I’d rather eat my own puke,” I say.

He laughs. “Oh, come on. I’m a good-looking guy. At least you can enjoy that.”

“Like I said, I’d rather eat my own puke.” I push back from the table and stand. “I’m leaving.”

“Hold on,” he says, his smile disappearing. “Wait. I’m being nice, just hear me out.”

“No,” I say. “No, screw you, Erik. You hurt me, then you’ve done nothing but trash my name. All because of what? Because I wouldn’t have sex with you?”

He frowns a little. “That’s not it.”

“It’s not?”

“You got Coach to hit me,” he says, his voice dropping to a growl. “It’s your fault. You… you deserved all that.”

“I didn’t deserve it,” I say, biting back tears again. I’m not going to cry in front of this animal. I won’t give him that.

“Whatever, Chloe. I’m here to talk, so sit back down.”

I step back, shaking my head. “Let me leave.”

“Chloe.”

“I said, let me leave. Or I swear I’m going to start screaming.”

He sighs and clenches his jaw. “I know it was you,” he says, staring at me with a flat expression. His eyes harden as he tilts his head and a little smile slips across his lips. “Now, sit down and talk to me.”

“You know it was me, what?” I ask, but my blood feels like ice.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, taps on it a few time, and turns it toward me. I stare at the screen, but it’s too far away to make much out. He taps it to start the video, and all I can see are some blurry black and white blobs.

“Watch,” he says. “Come on. Take a look.”

I hesitate then step closer. I stare at the screen and the scene begins to materialize. It’s a night-vision camera, and it’s Erik’s front yard. I recognize the walkway, the bushes, and the trees. My heart starts to beat faster and my eyes go wide as I stare at the video. It looks like nothing’s happening at first, but the trees are blowing slightly in the breeze. I remember it was a little windy that night, and we had to throw the paper really hard to get it up high into the trees.