The Coaching Hours (How to Date a Douchebag 4)

He’s nearly a seven-hour car ride away with two years of schooling to go, paid for by hard work and long dedicated hours.

A flutter in my stomach has me pausing.

There it goes again.

I should be showing by now, the ultrasound technician said. I should have a baby bump.

Pulling Madison’s pink robe off the hook on the back of the door, I slide into its fuzzy comfort, tying the belt before opening the door. Padding to my bedroom and crawling into my big, empty bed.

Elliot’s bed.

His.

Then mine.

I close my weary eyes, imagining what I’ll say when I see him—it has to be in person. This cannot be done over the phone, and he’s not likely to be home before the holidays.

Three more months.

An eternity.

Anabelle

“Sup Anabelle Donnelly. No offense, but you look like shit.”

I recognize that voice.

Glance up to see Rex Gunderson walking up the aisle toward me and groan—he is the last person I want walking into my class, the last person I want to spend another entire semester with.

Thanks, karma, for piling more crap onto my already shitty day.

“What are you doing in this class, Rex? I thought I’d gotten rid of you.”

His grin is mischievous. “I’m like a fungus—that’s why they call me a fun guy.”

“I would bet no one has ever called you that.”

He laughs good-naturedly, gesturing toward the seat beside me. “Mind if I sit here?”

“You really want to?” Is this guy a sadist? “There are plenty of open seats.”

We haven’t spoken since that night in the stadium, the night where I humiliated him in front of the entire wrestling team, my father, and the coaching staff, when I was the driving force behind him getting fired from his management position.

“We social pariahs can’t be too choosy these days,” he jokes, plunking his bag down.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize—my knee-jerk reaction as a kind and caring human being—but I stop myself because I’m not sorry.

He didn’t deserve to have the position he held when he abused it, and it was about time he was removed.

“How’s life treating you otherwise?” I ask, genuinely curious, sincerely wanting to know how someone moves on after spending three years of their life committed to the same team.

“Boring as fuck.”

“What about Johnson?”

“He’s gone. Went back home, transferred to a community college.”

“Why?”

“He was here on a partial athletic scholarship and out-of-state tuition is fucking expensive, so when he got suspended, his parents made him move home.” Rex shrugs.

“Sure. Makes sense.”

“You’re stone cold, do you realize that?”

“I am? How so?”

“Most girls would be embarrassed to be sitting with me, and they sure as shit wouldn’t want to be talking about it. You humiliated me.”

“You had it coming.”

“You’re right.”

I stare. “Did you have a come to Jesus moment this summer?”

“Something like that.” He laughs, stretching his legs out in front of him, slouching in the desk.

I eyeball his jeans and raise my brows. “No more khakis?”

“No more khakis,” he confirms.

“Wow, Gunderson, you really have changed.”

“That’s pitiful.”

“What is?”

“That the main thing you’ve noticed about me is that I’m not wearing beige-colored pants anymore.”

He sounds so disgruntled.

It has me laughing all over again. “Sorry, but they were kind of your trademark.”

“Guess I’m giving up a lot of shit I used to be down with.”

“Has it been a rough few months?”

“At first. I was getting paid to be the team manager, and since basically being fired, I had to get a job off campus, which—whatever, it’s not a big deal. Then obviously this summer I had to break the news to my parents. They were real proud of my position, you know?”

“I’m sure they were.”

“Summer was hell, if you want to know the truth, not that I expect you to care since that whole bet thing exploded in my face.” He studies me anew, studies my face and eyes, the set of my mouth. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Anabelle, but you don’t look good.”

“I…have a lot on my mind. It’s been a really rough week.”

“Looks like it. What a pair we make.”

I smile because he’s right. We really do make an odd pair: a wrestling team reject and the knocked-up coach’s daughter. It’s almost like a friendship with Rex Gunderson was destined.

“Did you hear?

“Hear what?”

“That dickhead Zeke Daniels is getting engaged.”

“How did you hear that?”

“I heard the buzz before getting kicked off the team. Elliot had to have told you.”

“Elliot is gone.”

“Where’d he go?”

“Grad school. Michigan.”

“Oh. Well. I won’t complain if I have you to myself without him wanting to punch my lights out.” When I blanch, he reaches an arm around me with a laugh. “Relax, I’m kidding. At least you weren’t dating him or anything—long distance sucks.”

If that wasn’t the understatement of the year, I don’t know what is.

“Wait, rewind.” I gape at him. “When did Elliot threaten to punch your lights out?”

“That night we went on our date. You left to go to the bathroom and he got all up in my face and told me to keep my hands off you. I thought it was extremely over the top considering you were just roommates.”

“You thought he was being over the top?”

“He was definitely acting jealous, that’s for sure.”

“I’m sure he was.”

“Were the two of you dating before he left?”

I feel a blush creeping up my chest, splotchy on my neck and staining my cheeks. “You could say that.”

“Ahh, okay. Now I see how it is.”

Somehow, after class, I let Gunderson take me to the university’s small coffee shop, huddle in a corner booth. I’m just not ready to go home yet and instead drown my sorrows in a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream.

Laugh at all Rex’s stupid jokes (and they’re all stupid), letting him make me forget all my troubles, even if just for a little while.

“I have a confession to make,” he’s saying now over his iced coffee or latte, or whatever drink it was he ordered. “I’m shocked as hell you came here with me. I thought for sure you’d shoot me down when I suggested it.”

“As weird as it sounds, I actually don’t mind your company.”

“That sounds oddly like a compliment.”

Laughing, I snort. “It was…I think. Do you not get those much?”

“Not very often.” He grins, biting down on his straw, a big toothy smile that has me smiling, too. “I’ve spent the last year getting my ass handed to me.”

In another life, under better circumstances, Rex Gunderson might have been someone redeemable enough to date.

But they’re not better circumstances; they’re worse than they were yesterday.

I am pregnant.

I am single.

I am a broke college student.

My small circle of friends in Iowa includes Madison, who is barely around and only wants to party, Elliot, who moved to Michigan, and Rex Gunderson, who had a bounty on my vagina last semester.

Still…

I have a lot on my mind and no one to talk to, and he’s right here, sitting in front of me, watching me intently, like he knows what’s going on inside my head.

For all I know, he does.

I worry my bottom lip, suddenly thinking about my parents and what’s going to happen when I tell them about…

Oh God.

I almost said, about the baby.

What am I going to tell my parents?

My dad is going to lose his mind and my mother is going to blame my father, and the entire thing is going to be an utter disaster.