Page 41 of Wild Eyes
SKYLAR
Thirty unblinking eyesstare at me.
Wide, shiny, unblinking eyes.
West is talking, but not a single girl on his team is paying attention, because Skylar Stone is standing beside him. It would seem that even without makeup on, they all recognize me.
My first inclination is to freeze up. Look for an escape route. Flee.
I’m like a deer in the headlights over a mob of six-year-olds.
West bumps me with his elbow as he introduces me, and the brief touch drags me out of my head. I peek over my shoulder to see Oliver sitting at the top of the bleachers. He’s got a book in his hands, but he’s watching West and me. I wave at him, and he gives me a shy wave back before turning his focus back down to the pages in his lap.
Then his dad hits me with, “This here is Coach Plain Face.”
I snort and the girls finally blink.
“Really?” I ask, turning to West, who is wearing a mischievous, shit-eating grin. It’s so bright it practically blinds me from beneath the brim of his hat. “You can all call me Sky. I’m just here to help.”
The girls nod, but West isn’t letting it go. “What? You’ve got a special name for me. It only seemed fair.”
I have to think about it for a beat. A special name? Suddenly, it hits me.
Coach Thick Thighs.
He winks.
And I flush.
Every quippy joke I manage to get out around this guy turns into fodder for him to tease me with. He’s fucking unflappable and it would annoy me if it weren’t so damn endearing.
“Coach West,” I say, enunciating each syllable with force.
“Yeah,” one girl with raven black hair pipes up. “What else would we call you?”
West is still smiling when he straightens up and claps his hands. “Absolutely nothing, Lee. Now, are we ready? We’re gonna hit ’em hard with our diamond formation and have some fun, right?”
“Yeah,” a few of them shout, but several continue staring at me. I sense their parents staring from the sidelines too, but I try to ignore that feeling of being watched. The one that makes my scalp itchy.
“Okay, on three,” West’s voice booms from beside me, startling me.
They all push their hands into the middle of the circle, and I awkwardly do the same when West gives me another nudge.
“Three! Two! One!” Their sugary, little voices all shouting together makes a very real smile crack out over my face.
“Sparkly Turquoise Unicorns!” is their final shout before the girls spin and take off to their spots, some on the field and others on the sidelines. Emmy front and center.
I tilt my head in West’s direction. “Sparkly Turquoise Unicorns?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s us,” he responds as he crosses his arms and tips his chin out toward the field.
“Creative.”
He snorts. “You should have heard the other options. We put it to a vote.”
When I peek over at him, I realize the turquoise-colored cap he’s wearing saysSparkly Turquoise Unicorns. Other than that, he’s wearing a set of gym shorts, a simple black tee, and a pair of sneakers. But seeing him in full girl-dad mode makes my heart skip a beat.
I cross my arms and look out over the field as the opposing coach drops the ball on the grass. “Nice hat, Coach Thick Thighs.”
