“Huh, why? It’s perfectly natural to compare kisses.”
Yeah, well, I couldn’t exactly do that since I’d only kissed Becks. But what freaked me out more was how much thought Hooker had obviously given thought to how good a kisser Becks would be. It was just wrong. And there was no way Ash had better lips than Becks.
“Okay, then who was your best kiss?” I asked.
She didn’t even hesitate. “Wade Weathersbee, seventh grade, behind the gym. Weathersbee had a lot of enthusiasm and could do this really cool rolling thing with his tongue. Naturally gifted.” Hooker waggled her eyebrows. “If you know what I mean.”
I didn’t—but it sounded really interesting.
As I was working up the nerve to ask her about it, someone said, “Sally, you busy?”
I looked up, straight into the eyes of Clayton Kent. He was wearing his usual assistant coach uniform, but the seriousness in his expression was so out of place, it made me uneasy.
“Oh hey, Clayton,” I said, trying to act natural.
“Would you mind stepping over here so we can talk?”
“Got something you can’t say in front of me, Coach Kent?” Hooker pouted. “And I thought you were a Southern gentleman.”
He gave her a patronizing smile then faced me. “Sally?”
“Sure.” Following him to the next table over, empty on one end—the one closest to us—I steeled myself.
Clayton didn’t beat around the bush. “Sally, did you really dump Becks?”
I gulped. God, he looked mad. “Yeah, I guess.”
“What’d he do?”
“Huh?” I said, dumbly.
“What’d he say? Was he a jerk?” His eyes flashed, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen him look so hostile. “Did he hurt you? I’ll kill him if he did, Sally. I swear it. You just tell me now, and I’ll take care of it.”
The threat was good, but the look on his face was better. I couldn’t contain myself. The laughter started low in my chest and bubbled out of my mouth, long and loud.
“Oh,” I gasped. “Clayton, I can’t believe you just said that.” Wiping tears from my eyes, I laid my hand on his arm. “Becks would never hurt me. He wouldn’t hurt any girl, and you know it.”
“Yeah,” Clayton agreed, reluctantly. “I was just hoping for a reason. You know, he’d get a whooping from each of us. Leo, Thad, Ollie and me wouldn’t stand for him making you cry. He didn’t, did he?”
“No,” I said quickly. His eyes got all squinty, but I smiled. “It’s sweet of you to offer, though. You know you’re my favorite, right, Clayton?”
“Of course,” he said, pulling me into a one-armed hug. “So you and The Whip are dating now?”
I shrugged. “That’s what they say.”
Clayton set me away from him, his hand resting on my shoulder. “You working your way through my bench or what? First Becks, now Ash. Next you’ll be going after Rick Smythe. He’s got a great block, nice set of calves.”
“Please.” I rolled my eyes. “How’d you know about me and Ash?”
“Heard it straight from the horse’s mouth as he and Becks were getting reamed by Crenshaw. The coach didn’t look too happy.”
That didn’t sound good. “They won’t get in trouble, will they?”
“Nah.” Clayton waved it off. “They’ll be fine. A little scuffed up, but fine. So…my Sally and Ash Stryker, huh? ‘Sash,’“ he said to himself. “That’s not bad.”
“Yep,” I said, ducking my head. It was strange how he seemed to accept me and Ash easier than me and Becks. It’d taken him less than an hour to link our names together.
Sash. Good grief.