“Hi. I’m… Madison Kelly.”
His smile grows and my gut twists, my palms sweaty, my heart pounding against my chest as I wait with baited breath.
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
The knife twists in my gut and then slices my heart for thinking that he’d remember me. Of course, he doesn’t.
I was always invisible to him.
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Austin
The handsome guy on stage with his jaw hanging wide open, shock and awe in his eyes?
That’d be me. Austin Bailey. Eldest brother of the Bailey clan, guardian to my younger siblings, biology teacher extraordinaire, baseball coach, good neighbor, and all-round pretty great guy.
Before we dive into the fact that karma just raised its middle finger at me, you should hear how my day began.
Today started like every other day. I woke up, got ready, prepared breakfast for my ungrateful twin sisters, Phoenix and Sedona, then we all hopped into my Jeep to head to school.
Of course, Phoenix didn’t eat the pancakes. Her exact words, if I remember correctly were, “They taste like cardboard. Can’t you just follow the recipe?”
Sedona ate the pancakes, but as soon as we pulled into the parking lot of Lake Starlight High School, where they’re seniors, her appreciation for me ended. “Park in the back, I don’t want to be seen stepping out of this monstrosity.”
I’ve learned that there’s no pleasing a teenager, especially a female one—no offense, ladies, but her comment still irks me. How is my Jeep embarrassing? It has a snorkel so when I off-road, I don’t have to spend my money on a new engine and can instead afford to buy her whatever new outfit she wants. She should be grateful, thanking me. But she’s seventeen. Pleasing her is impossible.
I purposely park in the first row and honk my horn to announce our arrival, because pissing off Sedona is one of my top five favorite things to do. I’ll miss that come next year.
Phoenix’s stomach rumbles as she exits the car. Sedona has already raced off to the nearest entrance as if that creepy IT clown is following her.
I stroll toward the door, reloading my emails on my phone, hoping I received the response I’ve been waiting for and that it contains good news. Elijah, my star pitcher, cuts me off.
“Coach, I need some advice.” He runs his fingers through his long hair.
“How to cut your hair? Come see me. I’ve got clippers in my office.”
It’s like a contest these days for the kids to see who can grow their hair and look the most unkempt. I don’t get the appeal, and Elijah is the worst of them all.
“No, Coach, Becca broke up with me.” There’s a hitch in his voice. His eyes scour the courtyard, where most of the kids hang out until the first bell rings.
I stuff my phone into the pocket of my jacket. “Why?”
“Well…” He runs his fingers through his hair again.
For the love of God. Next season if I’m still here, I’m making a new rule—if your hair covers your eyes, I’m your barber.
Of course, then JP’s mom will call to complain. She always calls. I think if we changed the flavor of the performance drink we give them from strawberry to lime, she’d call. You know the type. She probably still wipes his ass to make sure he did it right. And though I understand that the Andrews family has had its share of heartbreak, she was like that before and after.
I push JP’s mom out of my head because just the thought of dealing with her will give me a headache. “What’d you do?”
I open the door to the hallway. With it being Monday morning, my fellow teachers nod, gripping their coffee mugs like life vests.
A group of three girls lingering around one locker follow Elijah as we head down the hall. I’m not blind. He’s kind of a big deal around here, and I can guess what path his teenage hormones led him down. They’re tricky fuckers to manage.
“You know Sara Pylar?” Elijah asks in a tentative voice.
See? Too bad I can’t bet on my players’ screw-ups. I wouldn’t be working here, that’s for sure. I’d be a rich man.
I open up the door to my classroom, and Elijah heads in first.
Do I know Sara Pylar? Of course, I do. She’s usually the one in the short skirt with her finger twirling a strand of her hair. The worse her grades are, the more bubble gum she chews while she asks to move to the front row so she can see the smart board better. Sara would eat up and spit out a kid like Elijah if he ever tried to tangle with her.
“Yeah, I know Sara.”
He sits in the chair next to my desk. “There was this dare…”
“Nothing good comes from those.” I cross my arms.
“JP was razzing me about how I’ve only ever kissed Becca and that when I go to college, we’ll break up and how the girls at college are on another level.” His eyes widen, silently asking me.
I went to college. I played in college, and at one time, I thought maybe I’d hit the majors. Then family responsibilities brought me back to Lake Starlight. Now I teach and try to advise kids like Elijah not to make the mistakes I did. Then again, youth is your free pass to do stupid shit.
“Girls in college are the girls you went to high school with but a little older.” I sit in my chair, grabbing a pen.
“He said I’d regret not having experience.”
My gaze lands on the clock. Elijah has about five minutes before first class bell. I hold up my hand to stop him from rambling. “Listen.”
Elijah is good enough to be drafted first round, and this town can’t wait to see him succeed. He’ll have plenty of temptation come his way over the years, and he needs to decide now how he’s going to handle it.
“Did you kiss Sara?” I ask.
“No, but…”
“I’m gonna guess here and tell me if I’m wrong.” He closes his mouth, so I continue. “You let your friends get to you. JP, whose mom probably follows him on his dates you do realize, tells you that you don’t have enough experience and should kiss another girl.”
He’s nodding and smirking because everyone knows JP’s mom will probably put up spy cameras in his dorm room next year.
“You thought, ‘Hey, what if Becca does break my heart and fall for someone next fall? Where does that leave me?’ So, you went into a bedroom or somewhere private with a very willing Sara. Then Becca somehow walked in on you right before you finished debating in your head if you were going to kiss her?”
You see me trying to make it seem like he would never cheat on Becca? Probably bullshit. He’s seventeen. He would’ve kissed Sara and blown his relationship with Becca into smithereens and only realized what a mistake that was down the road.
“Exactly. Coach.”
“Now you have to grovel.” I check the clock one more time. Three minutes until first bell.
“I did. I went to her house. I texted her.”
I stand to let Elijah know he’s leaving before my class arrives. “Sorry,” I smack him on the back. “You need to pull out the big guns.”