The Coaching Hours (How to Date a Douchebag 4)

“Can you do me a favor? Don’t lose sight of the fact that Rex bet one of his teammates he could fuck you for the chance at a bigger bedroom, okay?”

All the way from my bed, I can see her chest getting red. “Who would forget a detail like that? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No. I just think you’re being too nice.”

“Disagree.” She sticks her forefinger in the air. “I sent Eric Johnson to my dad’s house already, remember? He won’t be bothering me again.”

“Bet he does.”

“Haha, very funny. Don’t you start with that betting crap.”

“I was joking. Lighten up.”

“Fine.” She relents. “It was a decent play on words, though I’m not too proud to admit it.”

“Should I get dressed and come with you?” I set the book down on my comforter, starting to rise from the bed.

Anabelle throws her hands up to stop me, waving them in the air. “Oh my God, don’t you dare! I do not need you hovering, Dad. He’ll know something is up.”

I beg to differ. “No he won’t—Rex Gunderson is a fucking moron. I’ve seen his brand of genius at work many, many times.”

“Still, don’t you dare show up.” She sends me an accusatory glare.

Not intimidated, I ignore her, thinking I might actually show up on her fake date—you know, scope it out, check out the situation. Make sure he keeps his fucking hands off her.

If I can’t touch her, he sure as hell can’t.

The last time Anabelle went out to party, I carried her semi-unconscious body through my door and tucked her into my bed to sleep it off. I’ve earned the right to be overprotective of her.

She’s my friend.

The thought makes me throw up in my mouth a little.

“Oh!” I say a little too loudly. “I have an idea before you leave. Should we have some kind of Bat Signal? In case you need me?”

“Sure.” My roommate rolls her eyes. “Or I could just text you like a normal person.”

“This whole revenge plot thing is becoming anti-climactic, seeing as you’ve forgotten what a tool this dude is.”

“Oh my God, twist my arm, we’ll have a panic word! What do you want the signal to be?”

I sit up on my bed, resting against the headboard. “How about ‘take me out to the ball game’ and I’ll be there within five minutes.”

“How unoriginal.”

“I was going to suggest ‘balls deep’ as a soccer reference but didn’t want to offend you.”

“As if I’ve never heard that zinger while hanging around my dad’s practice gym. Still, it was very considerate of you not to suggest it.” She laughs. Stops laughing. “Wait, what do you mean ‘be there in five minutes?’ That would mean you were close by.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just know I’ll be within five minutes away.”

“Elliot! Did I not just say I didn’t want you spying on me!”

“I won’t! I’ve decided to go downtown. Not in the same bar, I swear.”

She squints one eye closed. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I’m full of shit and we both know it, that’s why.”

I grin, determined to find out where she is and make sure I’m in the area. I don’t trust Rex Gunderson, and neither does anyone else. I don’t want to just burn the bridge he has with Anabelle, I want to drain the lake beneath it and fill it with concrete.

Anabelle is spending the night out with a fucking loser.

“Can we just get this night over with please?”

“You are so bossy when you’re crabby.”

I throw my legs over the edge of the bed, stretching. “Having a roommate was supposed to be fun and not cramp my lifestyle.”

“It is fun—don’t be a baby. Get dressed and we can ride together since you insist on stalking me. I’ll even let you drive.”

I get to drive, drop her off downtown for her fake date from hell with a complete tool, and then lurk for the rest of the evening?

Awesome.

Exactly what I wanted to be doing on a Friday night.

Anabelle

I will admit, coming out with Rex Gunderson hasn’t been one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had.

In fact, other than the fact that he’s ignoring me by replying to incoming text messages, I’ve had way worst dates.

We’re at a small restaurant in town, and even though I’m just wearing jeans and a black shirt, I’m still overdressed. This is more of a diner—a greasy spoon, as we call it back east—serving beer, burgers, and fried appetizers.

I push aside the napkins in the center of the table, clasping my hands, waiting for my fake date to put his phone down and notice me.

If Rex Gunderson is trying to win a bet so he can have sex with me, his effort is seriously lacking. How do girls find this behavior appealing?

He isn’t paying any attention to me.

He’s doused with cologne.

And he keeps referring to himself in the third person.

Annoyed, I tap on the table, nails clicking against the wooden top. “Are you almost done? I’m getting bored.”

“Yeah, give me one more second, babe.” He shoots me a toothy grin that’s meant to be charming. “Team bizness.”

I wish I hadn’t come out with him.

I’d give anything to be snuggled up on the couch with Elliot right now, watching a show or reading a book—something I haven’t done in forever.

Rex sets his phone on the table, seeming ready to finally give me his full attention. “So, this is fun.”

“Really? You think this is fun?” I lean forward. “Is this what you normally do with your dates?”

“Bring them here? Yeah. It’s the perfect setup. I can sit and watch the game”—there are flat-screen TVs everywhere—“and the ladies can sit and watch me. It’s a win-win.”

“You’re kidding me. You did not just say that.” I fall back in the booth, back hitting the seat, laughing. “Do you have a sheet of paper and a pen? I want to write that down.”

Classic.

I wipe the tears now spilling from the corners of my eyes, determined to remember every bit of this night.

I seriously can’t with this guy.

He is too much.

And he is for real.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Totes.”

Totes? I do a mental eye roll. No one uses that word anymore.

“I’ve heard a few things and wanted some clarification.”

“Things?” Rex studies me somewhat warily, throwing his arm on the seatback behind him. “Like what?”

I thank the waitress when she sets down our appetizers then focus my energy on the twerp sitting across from me. “I heard that last year you pulled a few pranks on a guy who’s on the wrestling team. What were they?”

“Oh man, my reputation precedes me!” He laughs. “You heard about that? It was crazy, man—legendary.”

“Legendary, huh? How so?”

“Anabelle, you’re sitting across from a legend. Obviously, if you’ve heard about it, they’re going to be talking about it for years.”

“Talking about what?”

“Okay, so there was this new guy, right? And he ended up living with me and my roommate cause he didn’t know anyone in Iowa.” Rex takes a chicken wing, dips it in sauce, and bites down. Chews. “Anyway, the dude never went out, right? Like, ever. So, my roommate and I thought we’d help him out, ya know?”

I nod along. “K, then what?”

He cleans his face, swiping at the ranch dressing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “We make these signs—totally shitfaced from drinking all night—and sneak into the dorms without ID cards. The chick at the front desk had a major lady boner for my roommate.”

“Uh huh.”

“We make all these copies of a flyer—”

“What did it say?”

“Uh, let me think.” He regards the ceiling, squinting, thinking hard. “Are you the lucky lady who wants to pop our roommate’s cherry? Must have a pulse. He will reciprocate with oral.”