by Score, Lucy
I showered as quickly as humanly possible, grateful that I’d thought ahead and shaved all of the body parts that required shaving this morning. I pulled on my navy halter dress in the privacy of a bathroom stall. As close as we all were now, I still didn’t need a bunch of perky teenage girls seeing my mostly naked body.
Back in my office, I dumped my cosmetics out on my desk.
“I’m here to do your hair,” Morgan E. said, reporting for duty.
She was already dressed in a suit with a sparkly blue bow tie and was wielding dry shampoo and hair spray.
“Have at it,” I said pointing at my head. I sat in my desk chair and faced the locker room while she tugged and twirled my hair into who knows what kind of a style.
Through my creeper window, I spotted Libby be-bopping toward her locker and held my breath.
She’d said she wasn’t going to the dance. No date. No dress.
What she hadn’t said was “No money for the ticket or everything else a dance required.” Ashlynn’s parents were hosting a team-wide sleepover after the dance in their finished basement. Libby planned to go home with Ashlynn’s parents and wait for the rest of the team. To me, that was unacceptable.
She frowned at the garment bag hanging from her door. Fingered the dance ticket stapled to the bag. With careful movements, she unzipped the bag, and part of the full black skirt spilled forth.
I bit my lip and hoped.
She glanced around and then pulled the dress out. It was edgy and fun, just like her. I’d found it on a rack in a department store when I’d been scouring the “you’re an adult and should dress like one” section for my own dress. Hers had a high neck and a full skirt. Pleather edged the skirt and waist and wrapped up around the neck. It was super hero meets skater girl. And it was exactly Libby. It cost twice as much as mine, and I cried when I bought it because it was so perfect.
Holding it, she turned and met my gaze. She held the look for a long beat and then mouthed “thank you” through the glass.
I held up my hands, fingers in the shape of a heart as my throat constricted. It was the best thing I’d done in a long-ass time.
“That was damn nice, Coach,” Morgan E. said through a mouthful of bobby pins.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sniffled.
She snorted. “Okay. You’re all set. Slap on some makeup and get ready to party.”
“Thanks, Morgan,” I told her, feeling around on my head and finding my hair in a low, fluffy bun.
“Thank you, Coach,” she said seriously. “For everything.”
“Get out of here,” I said, affectionately pushing her toward the door.
Morgan grinned. “See you on the dance floor.”
I waited until all the girls were dressed and on their way to the cafeteria before locking the locker room door. This was too good of a place to sneak away and make out in.
I stuffed the keys in my clutch and cut through the auditorium and headed toward the dance I’d missed all those years ago. Toward the man I’d fallen hard for twice now.
I pushed through the heavy doors of the senior hallway and stepped into the cafeteria. We’d eaten French bread pizza and green beans here earlier today. But since then, it had been transformed into a blue and silver crepe paper wonderland. There was a DJ, the same old-ass throne that they’d used for Homecoming back in the day, and dozens and dozens of students awkwardly masquerading as confident people in nicer clothing.
I spotted Jake near the refreshments laughing at something Amie Jo said to him.
Past experience had my stomach tying itself in knots. She was wearing a pink cocktail dress six shades too fancy for a simple chaperoning gig. It said, “I don’t want the students to get all the attention.”
I hated myself for looking at them and remembering twenty years ago. We were all different. We’d all grown and changed, I reminded myself. Well, maybe not Amie Jo. But Jake and I were different. He wasn’t passing me over for Amie Jo a second time.
I swallowed hard and slapped a smile on my face.
He’d run home to shower and change after getting caught in the celebratory ice water deluge on the field. He was sexy as hell in a dark pair of trousers and a dark gray jacket. His shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, and I wanted to taste him there.
I walked in, surprised and embarrassed by the spontaneous applause from the students. I knew what to do with failure and losses. But recognitions for victory were new to me and made me feel vaguely uncomfortable. I thought I’d be able to bask in the glow of admiration. But I felt more comfortable in the shadows.
Jake stopped in what looked like mid-sentence with Amie Jo and crossed to me, rescuing me from the spotlight. I breathed a small sigh of relief. He was always showing up for me.
“You look incredible,” he said, a wolfish glint in his eyes.
“Thank you,” I said. “The girls helped with my hair.”
“I really want to mess up your hair and makeup and find out what you’re wearing under that dress,” he confessed.
“You’re the worst chaperone in the history of chaperones,” I teased.
“I feel like celebrating tonight. What do you say we pop a bottle of bubbly when we get home, and I’ll pour it on you and lick it off?”
“If you get a hard-on in those pants, every student will be talking about it for the rest of the school year,” I warned him.
“Nice game, Coach,” one of my students said as he shimmied past me with a pretty junior on his arm.
“Thanks, Calvin.”
“Look at you knowing their names,” Jake said. He took my hand and spun me away from him before pulling me back in.
I did know their names. And who was unhealthily attached to their phone. Whose parents were going through a divorce. Who was going to whine about being forced to do yoga for forty-five minutes instead of an endless winter of volleyball. I’d learned as much as I’d taught. If not more.
“I’m beyond proud of you, Mars,” Jake said, his voice low.
I was proud of myself.
I put my hands on his shoulders and swayed to the beat. It wasn’t a slow song, but I didn’t feel too weird slow dancing in the shadows with him. I’d been waiting for this moment for a very long time.
My cheeks flushed. “Thank you. Now can we please talk about something else?”
“I want to make sure you savor this moment. Think back to August. And look at yourself now. Look at your players now. Hell, look at your students now.”
He jerked his chin toward the dance floor. Milton Hostetter called out to the skinny, gawky Marvin Holtzapple and high-fived him.
“That never would have happened without your beer pong lessons.”
“Trick shot lessons,” I corrected him with a laugh.
“You’ve done a lot of good for a lot of people, Marley. Feel good about it.”
“I can’t believe you asked me to Homecoming again and we’re finally here,” I sighed.
“Again?” he asked.
Our conversation was cut short by the festive entrance of the Homecoming Queen. Ruby gave me a regal wink as she settled onto her throne in her purple, sparkly dress. We laughed as my team requested “We Are the Champions” and then sang and danced to it in front of everyone.
Duty called. Jake and I divided and conquered, rustling horny teenagers out of dark corners and quelling minor heartbreaks on the dance floor.
But I felt him watching me. Even when we were apart. Jake was watching me. Jake was with me.
Maybe this crash landing in Culpepper was going to be the best thing that ever happened to me. And just maybe I would finally find my path forward from here.
71
Marley
“Aren’t we supposed to be chaperoning this thing?” I asked as Jake dragged me down the hallway away from the cafeteria. Away from the thumping bass of Macklemore and squealing teenagers. The hallway was dark and quiet.
“I paid Bill fifty dollars to cover for us for fifteen min
utes,” he said, not the least bit embarrassed.
“He’s going to think we’re—”
“We are,” he said devilishly, coming to a stop in front of the girls’ locker room. “Now, unlock this door right now, Mars, or I swear to God I’m going to find out if you’re wearing a bra right here in the hallway where anyone can come along.”
With shaking hands, I yanked my keys out of my clutch and pushed them at him.
Smugly, he unlocked the door and pushed me inside. The deadbolt clicked into place behind us, and I suddenly felt like a tiny field mouse in the presence of a very hungry hawk.
And then Jake’s hands were on me. They locked on to my breasts like heat-seeking missiles, pushing the straps down my shoulders.
“I fucking knew it,” he said with reverence. “You’re a bad girl, Mars. Coming to a high school dance with no bra.”
“I didn’t think anyone would be doing a thorough exam,” I shot back, gripping his hard-on through his pants. I could feel the pulse thumping in his flesh, and it added to my excitement.
He maneuvered me into my office and propped me against my desk. Jake leaned in and down, holding eye contact while his tongue darted out to stroke over one nipple.
He did it again, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Goosebumps broke out on my skin and made my nipples pebble.
“God, baby. You are a fantasy come to life.”
He shifted to my other breast and repeated the process. Within seconds, my nipples were damp and painfully erect.
“Fifteen minutes,” I reminded him, not willing to let him spend all of those minutes on just my breasts.
“I’ll be back later, ladies,” he promised my boobs.
They missed his attention, but when he dropped to his knees in front of me, other parts started to get excited.
He pushed the skirt of my dress up to my waist. “Hold it here,” he said, hooking a finger under the black thong I wore. His knuckle rubbed against my folds, and I shivered at his touch. “Hold that dress up, baby,” he reminded me when I let the skirt fall.
I collected the hem and held it high while he pulled my thong down to my knees. He looked up at me, a devilish, dirty smile on his face.
“I want a picture of you like this,” he said. “Tits out, skirt up. You’re a fucking sight to see, Mars.”
“Maybe some other time when we have more than eleven minutes.”
I could feel his breath on my thighs and clamped them together trying to do something, anything to relieve the pressure that was building between them.
“Open up for me, pretty girl,” he said, nudging my knees apart.
I did as I was told and watched in fascination as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to my slit. A soft, closed-mouth kiss that ignited my desire like a wildfire.
“Oh, God.”
“Wider, baby,” he insisted, and I obliged, my thong digging into my knees as I stepped my feet as wide as I dared. The cold metal of the desk dug into my bare ass, but Jake’s warm mouth made up for the discomfort.
We had minutes. And I didn’t want to walk out of here without an orgasm.
Reading my mind, he thrust a finger into me and then a second one. He gave me a cocky grin when I smothered my scream. And then he was tonguing into my slit, dancing the tip over my clitoris and skating it back through my folds to where his fingers pleasured me.
I was on a hair-trigger already. Another few licks and I’d be a puddle of orgasm all over him.
“I want you inside me,” I breathed.
He paused, his fingers buried in me. “I don’t have a condom on me, baby.”
“I’m on birth control. I want to feel you, Jake. I want to come on your cock and feel you let loose inside me. Give me that.”
He was on his feet, yanking his cock out of his pants. “Are you sure, Mars? I need you to be sure.”
In answer, I slid up on the desk and spread my legs in welcome.
“I fucking love you, Marley.”
His words didn’t register right away because he was driving his raging erection into me, and I was busy clinging to his shirt and muffling my screams with his jacket.
It felt like fucking Heaven. Nothing between us. Nothing separating us. I felt every ridge and vein of his shaft. And he felt me.
I probably misheard him, I decided. Or if he had said it, he didn’t mean it that way. My boobs were out. He’d been known to blurt out stupid, inappropriate things in their presence.
His thrusts were wild, out of control. All I could do was hang on and take it.
“Marley, baby.”
He dipped his head down to suck at my nipple, and I dug the heels of my shoes into his bare ass.
I would never look at this desk the same way again. Never sit behind it and not think of how it felt to be filled by Jake, touched by Jake, loved by—
“Are you with me, baby?” he grunted. “I need you with me.”
I was so fucking close the entire school board could have walked in, and I still would have orgasmed.
“Now, Jake. Now,” I chanted.
And then he was coming. I felt him. I felt the throb inside me and the wave of heat. Felt his body tense as his orgasm wrenched itself free from the depths of him into the depths of me. I came, closing around him even tighter, sobbing as I felt another hot rope of his release loose inside me. This. This. This was everything.
I came trembling and shaking, laughing and crying, as Jake thrust and held inside me. As close to one as we could be. And even as my orgasm subsided, I ached for more.
72
Marley
November
The Homecoming win was just the beginning. Not only did the wins continue, but the crowds in the stands grew, the cheer squad’s halftime show went viral, and Floyd and I were leading our gym classes in four weeks of yoga classes. Jake and I spent our free time between the sheets when we weren’t running, attending family dinners, and enjoying quiet nights snuggled up with Homer.
To top it off, my team made it to districts. The first Culpepper High girls soccer team to do so in seven years. Take that, Steffi Lynn. I celebrated by chiseling off part of my paycheck and treating my mom and myself to pedicures.
Best of all, I felt like I’d finally given Culpepper something new to remember about me. I’d replaced Homecoming 1998 with a fresh, bright, happy memory. And an old wound in me healed.
With good things finally flowing my way, I funneled my energy into that damned resume. I was embarrassed that I hadn’t touched it since I showed up on Mom and Dad’s doorstep this summer. My future would not plan itself. I needed a fresh resume and some new job prospects.
“Don’t you think it’s weird to lead with a temporary position?” I asked Zinnia over the phone, admiring my cranberry sparkle toes.
“I think a temporary position that shows leadership capabilities and the ability to make an impact is more interesting than a four-month hole,” my sister said, crunching down on a carrot stick. Part of her macrobiotic cleanse she was doing leading up to Thanksgiving.
“Good point. Okay. Gym teacher and soccer coach,” I said as I typed.
“Physical education instructor,” Zinnia corrected.
I deleted, retyped.
“Have any job listings caught your eye?” she asked me.
I hated to admit it, but I hadn’t even looked. Between Jake and soccer, my free time had dwindled down to nonexistent. I was either cooking in Jake’s kitchen, naked in Jake’s bed, jogging after Jake’s sweaty ass, brushing up on new coaching and gym class ideas, or spending time with my parents and Vicky.
“Nothing yet,” I fibbed. “But I’m casting a pretty wide net, so I’m sure I’ll find something appealing.” Whether that “something” would even consider me as a candidate was another story.
“Mmm,” Zinnia said, crunching another carrot stick. “So listen, I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.”
I perked up. “You will?” With jobs as important as hers and Ralph’s, we usually only got a weekend after Chr
istmas visit from them. And then they were so exhausted from work, their 10,000 child activities, and their holiday social obligations, they weren’t much fun.
“Yeah. I’m taking some time off.”
I narrowed my eyes. The only time my sister took time off was for their annual 10-day family trip to Disney and her week-long, kid-free European shopping spree or butler-ed all-inclusive Caribbean vacay. She did not take time off for the holidays.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yes. Everything is fine. I just thought it would be nice for the whole family to be together. I haven’t told Mom yet,” she said. “I wanted to figure out the arrangements first so she wouldn’t try to set up air mattresses in the hallway again. I’ll look at hotels tomorrow while the kids are with their music tutors.”
“You don’t need a hotel.” My parents would be horrified if one of their children came home and stayed in a hotel.
“Marley,” Zinnia sighed. “I’m not sleeping on a couch. I have a bad back from summiting Mount Rainier last year. And I’m not asking you to do it either. We’re too old for that.”
I clicked into the Airbnb calendar. “Look. I just checked the calendar. No one is renting the room over Thanksgiving. You and Ralph can have your old room, the kids can stay in mine, and I can stay with Jake.” I was there most nights anyway. It wouldn’t be a big deal.
“Wow. Things are really getting serious with you two, aren’t they?” she asked.
“Uh. No. We just like hanging out. Having fun.” I was majorly crushing on the man. “I’ve got some stuff already there,” I continued. Like all of my laundry and half of my cosmetics.
That didn’t define serious. Sure, we were somewhere gray and fuzzy between fake relationship and long-term fling. I was having fun and didn’t really feel up to defining it. We both knew the score though. I would be leaving after Christmas. We would part as friends. I would flit off to a new, important job somewhere exciting. And Jake would find the woman of his dreams.
