Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 48601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
…God forbid I bump into when I’m this wet.
But then, suddenly, I remember something, and relief washes over me. I make a detour from my third period lab class to dash across campus to the gymnasium. I don’t have a gym class today, but I always keep a spare pair of workout clothes in my locker in the girls changing room. I grin to myself gleefully.
Check mate, Jamis—
I gasp as I open the locker room door and run smack into someone. I jump back, pulse jumping as I look up to see Coach Kirby, Winchester Academy’s new swim coach, looking equally as stunned and bewildered. He’s not my type, and I mean, he’s a freaking teacher, but ever since he got here, Camden Kirby has become somewhat of a, well, shall we say a talking point amongst the female student body. I mean, he’s not the only one, either.
There’s Porter Truman, the newest Math and Statistics professor and a mainstay in the daydreams of almost every girl in Winchester. He’s also the older brother to resident Winchester heartthrob and football royalty Beckett Truman. There was that new Government professor Oliver Bard who, I have to admit, was sex on a stick. But he bounced out of Winchester in the first few weeks of teaching here when he got another job offer. Something about teaching in Europe or something.
But here in front of me, Coach Kirby pales, his piercing blue eyes darting over me as he clears his throat.
“Coach!” I gasp, catching my breath as my pulse races. “I—sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, nope, that’s my bad,” he says with an uneasy smile. I return the smile, but slowly, my brow furrows as I glance past him at the sign on the locker room door.
The sign marking it as the women’s locker room.
My eyes dart back to him, and he grins sheepishly as he chuckles deeply.
“It’s not what you think. They’re doing some repairs to the showers, so I’m just showing them what needs doing.” He grins that easy smile of his that makes most of the girls around here lose their minds a little.
“No one’s in there, don’t worry.”
I nod, and he shifts on his feet.
“Did you need something? There aren’t any gym classes during third period, you know.”
“Yeah, no, I just, uh…” I smile. “I needed to grab my workout clothes.”
He frowns. “I’m confused.”
My brow arches. “About?”
“Didn’t you already get them?”
My brow furrows. “Huh?”
“From your stepbrother, Jamison?”
Oh, you motherFUCKER.
Coach Kirby rakes his fingers over the stubble on his chin.
“Sorry, did you not meet up with him yet?”
Thankfully, no.
I groan. “No, actually. Do you mind if I just…” I clear my throat. “Can I just check my locker?”
He frowns. “I mean, they, uh…”
“Coach, I don’t mind construction. And it’s not like I’m going to get changed in there right now.”
He smiles, again, slightly uneasily. “Right, yeah, of course.”
He steps back into the locker room, holding the door open. “You can definitely come in and check your locker, Ramona.”
I blink, glancing at him curiously at the way he just basically yelled that last line. But I just shrug and smile as I step inside. I follow him through to the main changing area where all the lockers are.
“I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
“Okay, thanks, Coach.”
He nods, smiling quickly as he opens the side door that leads down a small hallway to his office. Alone, I grudgingly open my locker, but I already know it’s hopeless. But it’s not totally empty inside. There’s a note.
…A freaking note.
And all it says is one word:
Drafty?
Asshole.
I snatch the note up and crumple it in my hand. I turn to leave when suddenly, I frown. The locker rooms are silent. Silent and empty, actually. As in, there’s a total lack of construction going on, or construction workers, or even tools out anywhere. In fact, the place looks exactly like it always does, which is… odd.
Instead of just leaving, I duck through the door Coach Kirby went through and head down the hall to his office. I knock, and there’s this odd scrambling sound before suddenly, maybe a full twenty seconds and a second knock later, the door swings open.
I arch my brows curiously as I eye his flushed face and the racing pulse in his neck.
“Is everything okay, Coach?”
He smiles haphazardly, nodding as he shrugs.
“Oh, for sure. I was just reorganizing stuff.”
I glance past him, and sure enough, his office is sort of a mess. There’s a pile of papers and other stuff that looks like it usually lives on his desk cascaded across the floor. And his desk chair is in the middle of the room, not behind his desk.
“Need something else, Ramona?”
I blink, yanking my eyes back to him.
“Yeah, um, when did he come in? Jamison, I mean.”
He shrugs. “Half an hour before you?”