by Knox, Abby
Maybe she’s right. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
She sighs. “Just one problem. Hunter was my ride and she’s gone. She couldn’t even wait five minutes.” I wish I knew what was going on with her. “Anyway ... God, I’m so stupid.”
“Hey,” I say. “None of that. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered about the Facebook thing. There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about. But this thing between us is a non-starter.”
She’s blinking more rapidly and I realize she’s fighting angry tears. Non-starter? Good job using corporate speak when feelings are involved, I think to myself.
“Shermer,” I say.
Her breath is shallow. “Do you even know what it does to me when you bark my name in practice?”
The question hangs in the air. My better self reminds me that I’m in a position of authority. I can’t entertain these kinds of questions. I can’t — shouldn’t — encourage her attraction to me. But there’s another part of me that owes her some degree of kindness. I can’t deny her the truth. “Yes. I know what it does to you. Do you want me to stop?”
Shermer shuts her eyes and breathes, “No! God, no! Don’t you dare stop now.”
I swallow thickly. This whole meeting was a bad idea.
“You know what could happen…what cruel rumors people could spread about you,” I say, my voice wavering. “Let’s just get you home.”
Five minutes later, I’m alone with Shermer in my truck. This is an even bigger mistake than meeting with her after practice.
We spend the ride to her house in silence. She doesn’t even question how I already know where she lives. Once I’m parked in her driveway, it takes all the strength inside me to keep my hands on the wheel.
“Thanks for the ride,” she says in a near whisper.
“Sorry for embarrassing you. And sorry if it hurt that I blocked you. But I can’t ...” I can’t even finish the sentence without squeezing the shit out of my steering wheel and gritting my teeth so hard they might crack.
What the fuck am I doing? She can’t be my car.
“I get it,” she says. “I mean, why would you see me as a grown woman? To you I’m still that dorky preteen following you around at the city pool. I don’t know why this is so hard for me to wrap my brain around—..”
“Stop it,” I grit out. “I’ve told you before, stop running yourself down. It’s not like that. You’re not a kid. I don’t see you as a kid ... not at all.”
I shouldn’t have said so much. Shermer swivels in her seat to face me.
Her gaze locks onto mine. The windows are down and the late fall breeze blows a lock of hair into her face. I know I shouldn’t, but I raise my hand to touch it, to move it.
She leans in to me. God help me, she’s leaning in and so am I. My heart is hammering in my chest. I can smell her citrusy, fresh scent. The same scent I dab on the end of my whistle so I can smell her all day long. Fuck me, I’m hard as stone right now and I can’t do a damn thing about it.
Her wavy locks are the softest thing I think I’ve ever felt in my hand.
Shermer’s eyes flutter closed. She has no idea what she’s doing to me right now. What does she think will happen next? If I so much as touch her skin, I won’t be able to stop.
We’re so close I can feel her breath on my cheek. She’s visibly trembling.
Headlights sweep across the dashboard, startling us both. I fail to let go of her hair right away; instead I gently tuck it behind her ear as the automatic garage door rises in front of us.
The realization that someone has come home has Shermer snapping away from me, eyes wide and terrified. She’s out of the truck and inside the house before I can say another word.
I back my truck out of the driveway just as Shermer’s dad’s Volvo slowly pulls in, his eyes straining to see who I am. I leave the window down, nodding and waving as I pull away. It’s either that, or pretend I don’t see him.
I make the choice that an innocent man would make. Because that’s what I am, after all.
Totally, one hundred percent innocent.
11
Addie
The first meet against Saint Mary’s takes a turn I don’t expect.
While we are prepping in the Saint Mary’s locker room, Ridley makes an announcement.
“If I’m not going to swim the 100 freestyle, then I’m not going to swim,” I hear Ridley say.
I’m shocked.
“What are you going to do?” I ask her as I rinse off the razor I’m using to shave my legs.
“What do you think I’m going to do?”
I stutter as I start shaving my arms. “You’re…you’re going to scratch? Hornets do not scratch, Ridley.”
She steps toward me in the shower and snaps the strap of my competition swimsuit. “Your lady boner has blinded you to what is really going on here,” she hisses.
I step backwards as if she slapped me. “What did you say?”
She chuckles. “It’s so obvious. Oh, poor, sweet, innocent Adelaide. Top of the class. Every teacher’s pet. Honey, please. It is all over your earnest, pouty-lipped face. Besides, I saw you leaving with him in his truck the other day.”
I glance at Hunter, who’s cutting her eyes at me.
I push past the fairly accurate accusation. “All right, fine, why don’t you tell me why you’re scratching?”
“Because I don’t like Coach Ford. He pisses me off.”
“I think he knows what he’s doing. Nobody won us more state titles—”
“Almost five years ago. Things have changed since then. Competition is tougher. We need to play to our strengths, not try to make new inroads. I’m scratching to prove a point.”
I back off and turn away.
I look at Hunter. She shrugs. “You too?”
“Nah, my mom would murder me,” she says.
The decision by some of the girls to scratch does not go well for anyone. We lose to Saint Mary’s, but based on the heats we did win, we could have easily won the meet if nobody had scratched.
The bus ride back to school is deathly quiet, and so is Coach Ford. It feels as though we are all waiting for him to let us have it, but he doesn’t make a sound. When we arrive back in the lot at Greenbridge, Coach exits the bus, gets into his truck, and drives away.
Hadley breaks the silence first as she stands up to grab her gear. “Well, I didn’t expect that reaction,” she says.
Hunter and I exchange looks because we know what’s really up. This gives me hope that she’s still talking to me.
“Just you wait until tomorrow,” I breathe as I watch Ridley exit the bus.
12
Addie
Anyone who thought Coach Ford was going to let the scratched heats slide is sorely mistaken.
Monday morning, a flyer appears on the bulletin board from the athletic director: “Tryouts for girls’ swim team alternates — tonight.”
I know exactly what this means. People are getting suspended for what they did.
And I love it.
I think of nothing else all damn day except to wonder about how badly he’s going to punish the team tonight. What’s he going to say? And how loud? The tingling, quivering and dampness in my panties is almost too much to bear until school ends at 3:15.
13
Weston
I see she wore her plaid uniform skirt today instead of khaki. And her nails are painted aqua blue.
The thought crosses my mind that I could quit my job right now, just for the chance to touch her. Just once.
14
Addie
By the time I don my swimsuit and get ready for practice, I am about out of my mind. I can hardly contain myself, wondering what is in store for practice today with half the team gone.
Coach Ford comes in hot to practice. His office door slams closed and he’s already on the pool deck. He gives us a loud, sharp whistle, then barks, “In the pool. Butterfly. One hundred. Now.“
One thi
ng is clear—he is pissed.
At first I think he’s warming us up but soon I realize he is flat out making us work. Hard. First butterflies, then the backstroke. And then breaststroke, followed by freestyle. And then just flip turns. “No! Shermer! You didn’t even kick off the wall! Come on!” He’s so mad he’s not even using the bullhorn.
So angry. So damn hot.
When we finally finish, he doesn’t even make us line up. In our exhaustion he lets us stay in the pool, leaning against the sides, spread apart from each other in a sloppy line, catching our breath.
And then the thrashing really begins.
“Some of our teammates thought they could protest my coaching style by scratching their heats on Sunday. Some of our teammates thought they could get away with it. But they are wrong. Let this be a lesson to the rest of you…”
Oh man, he is just getting started. I… I really like this.
“Antics like yesterday? Got us spanked. Anybody pull that again on my watch, and you’ll get cut from the team.”
Oh…hell yes, I think, as the heat grows between my legs and my nipples tighten. I am going to rub one out to this later. Sure wish I could record this on my phone.
He goes on. “The following swim team members have been suspended for two meets: Ridley, Hadley, Daphne…” He goes on to name all six players who participated in the scratch yesterday. The uproar is immediate, but he blows his whistle. A vein in his forehead that I’d never noticed before swells and throbs as he points his finger at us.
“You brought it on yourself, ladies! You mess with my team? I’m the one who can mess up your entire future. Try me. Go ahead and try to send your lawyer daddies after me. You know what? I don’t give a single shit who your families are. Do you know why? Because I got into this school on scholarship. I didn’t belong here, and kids like you made sure I knew that since day one. But I earned my way onto the swim team and you better believe I worked my ass off. When the coach said jump, I said ‘how high, sir?’ Do you ladies have any idea how utterly privileged you are…”
Holy shit.
He goes on for at least ten more minutes, and I think the water level of the pool shoots up a quarter inch as a result of how freaking wet this fiery speech is making me.
I inch my way away from the others and burrow into the corner of the pool.
Oh god. It’s so wrong, but I can’t handle it. I just have to…
My fingers push aside the elastic at the crotch of my swimsuit and brush my throbbing folds. My body reacts with a slight jerk. I delve in, massaging my swollen lips.
Coach Ford thunders on. “Our next meet is Sunday, and you may assume we are going to get pummeled because we’re calling up alternates. Maybe we will…”
There’s a pause in his tirade and I feel the skin on my neck prickle. I glance over at the pool deck and see him looking at me. All the eyes of my teammates are still on him, thank goodness. But he’s got this look in his eyes that is something like unmitigated fury.
My thumb finds my clit and strums it. I stifle a gasp by biting my lip. My eyes flutter closed by their own free will. When I open them again, his arms are crossed and he’s tapping his whistle against his top lip like he is thinking of what to say next.
He knows what I’m doing under the surface of the water. He has to know.
His brow furrows even deeper than normal. Then he bellows and looks away from me. “I say instead, now that we’ve cut away all the dead weight, let’s move on and do our best. Because we are still the best. We still have the best program in the state, and we are going to relay so hard we’re going to make Wakefield cry on Sunday!”
Some of my teammates are beginning to respond with whoops and claps. I’m just struggling to keep my facial expression under control as every circle of my hard little nub makes my nerve endings sing.
I’m close.
My lips part and I work to control my movements, praying nobody can tell what’s going on.
The coach and I lock eyes again, and I do my level best to tell him with my gaze that I’m almost there. He has to know that each word out of his mouth only gets me hotter.
He finishes his pep talk with a menacing shout. “What are we?”
“Hornets!” My teammates’ roar echoes through the room.
“What do we show?”
“No mercy!”
He makes them cry it louder and louder, over and over again, as my finger sinks into my opening. The pad of my thumb continues to rub, circle, and tease my clit until finally I explode with a cry at the same time my teammates are shouting “Hornets!” and “No mercy!” for the fifth and loudest time.
The climax barrels through me, mercilessly rattling my body. It starts at my pussy and travels up my back and into my chest. It feels like someone shot a glitter cannon in my brain.
When both the team and I finish, Coach Ford puts his whistle to his lips and blows. The rattle pushes out the final thrum of my orgasm. The walls of my sex respond to the slightest command from him, and it’s all I can do to keep control.
He hastily leaves the pool deck, half jogging to his office, shouting over his shoulder, “Practice same time tomorrow. Be prepared to practice the relay with the alternates! Dismissed!”
15
Addie
Coach Ford is zipping up his duffel bag angrily when I pop into his office after practice. Hunter has agreed to wait for me so she and I can talk things through later.
“After tonight, I’m asking Frazier to assign you a different advisor.”
“Why?” I’m thunderstruck.
“Because you’re spending too much time around me and it’s clouded your judgment.”
That’s not the reaction I expected. “But…”
He slams his locker door closed and I flinch.
“Go!” he shouts angrily.
The realization of my mistake hits me like a dive head first into the shallow end. My soul, my heart, my entire body hurts.
As I turn to leave, I mutter, “I’m such an idiot.”
“Shermer, what did I say about that kind of talk?”
I turn to look at him and he’s jangling his keys, anxious to go, as if he hadn’t just stomped my heart into a million pieces.
“Coach, I may be a decent swimmer and a great student. But when it comes to men, I clearly have no idea what I’m doing.”
I swivel away as he says my name one more time, clearly regretting being so harsh with me.
“Shermer…”
I pause, not turning to look at him again. Just waiting to him to say something. Anything.
“Adelaide…”
My lip trembles, my back still to him.
“Adelaide, I wish things were different.”
I don’t respond. I physically cannot respond. I refuse to let him or anyone else see me on the verge of tears, so I bolt out of there as fast as I can.
I will never darken the doorway of his office again.
16
Weston
The cute redhead on my doorstep is a sight for sore eyes. I let her in and wrap her in a hug.
“Hi, sis, glad you called today.”
She lets go first and pushes past me. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
“Nice to see you too, Barb,” I laugh.
She putters around my kitchen as we chat, but then stops short when she sees the swim team photograph I have magnetized to the fridge. She pauses to examine it. “My brother the swim coach, haha! I’ve never seen you in khakis before. You look like somebody’s dad.”
“Thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes, digging out the bottle opener from the kitchen drawer. “Somebody hired a professional studio photographer for our team photo at the beginning of the season. Guess they weren’t satisfied with the yearbook club, for some reason.”
“Oh… Is this her?” Barb points to Shermer immediately. How in the world did my spooky sister figure out so fast the identity of the woman I’ve been texting her about for months?
I crack o
pen two beers and hand her one. “Yeah.”
She whistles, examining the photo. “She’s absolutely stunning. I see the problem. Well, you wanted my advice, and I don’t know what to tell you except what you already know. Based one what you’ve told me, this girl has it bad.”
When I don’t answer, she swivels around.
“Wes?”
I stare at the pot on the stove just beginning to boil for our pasta dinner.
“Almost as bad as I do.”
Barb sighs and plops down on a barstool. “We’re going to need something stronger than beer, brother.”
17
Addie
The best thing I can say about this humiliating afternoon is at least Hunter and I talked things out. I spilled everything to her about my meeting with Coach Ford. And she spilled everything to me about why she’s been so cagey lately, which is a whole other story I’m still trying to wrap my brain around.
My plan is to get home, put one foot in front of the other, and hide out in my room until these swirling feelings pass. That plan is quashed as soon as I step inside the door. My mom and dad are waiting for me on the love seat, worried looks on their faces.
Open on my mother’s lap is my diary.
“Oh. My. God.”
“Honey,” Dad starts.
“Why is Mom holding my diary!?”
“Let me finish. Your mother and I have been worried about you because you’ve been practicing so hard.”
“First you want me to stick with swimming and now I’m practicing too much?”
He puts his hands up in surrender. “I know what this looks like…”
“It looks like you couldn’t be bothered to sit down and talk to me and instead read my private journal.”
