Page 40 of Sexting the Coach
“Yeah,” I croak, veins fizzing with adrenaline as I stand and move to the other side of the room, already reaching for my keys. It’s cold enough that I should unearth my winter coats, but I’ve been lazy about it, and there’s no time now. “I’ll be there in five.”
I might drive a little recklessly, but I make it to Elsie’s place in just four minutes. This time, instead of parking alongsideof the building, I pull up through the alleyway, my headlight illuminating a lone beer can turned on its side by a dumpster.
Just like it said in the text I received, a garage door opens for me, and I turn in, cringing at how tight it is between the cement blocks.
A tall woman with waist-length, pin-straight red hair stands by the garage door, motioning me into a spot. Mabel—she works for the Squids, too.
“Come on,” she says, simply, when I park in the spot and follow her up.
“I’m not going to get towed, am I?” I ask, glancing back at my car.
“That’s my spot,” Mabel says, flashing me a brief dry smile. “So, no.”
When I step into the elevator with Mabel, I can’t stop myself from thinking about the last time I was here with Elsie. The lights going out, conveniently. That thread of tension between us snapping, pulling me to her, making it impossible for me to keep my hands to myself.
Finding her already slick for me, the heat between her legs, the sound of her breathing in my ear.
“Are you coming?”
I blink and swallow, eyes focusing on Mabel, who stands in the elevator watching me. “Right—yeah.”
When I walk into Elsie’s living room, I feel like a dad checking in on a slumber party. She’s sitting on the couch, her face in her hands, a girl with short black hair is in a pair of pajamas, rubbing her back.
The girl—who must be Hattie, her other roommate—is in the middle of saying something, and when she looks at me, she doesn’t miss a beat, “…because his ex-wife said something about it.”
“Myex-wife?” I ask, and at the sound of my voice, Elsie’s face snaps up. Her eyes are red, her cheeks damp, and I feel my hands tightening to fists at my sides. Fucking paparazzi.
“Yes,” Hattie says, nodding. “I guess she’s not super thrilled about…your new relationship.”
“Just fucking great,” I mutter, eyes tracking Mabel as she crosses the room, lifting a curtain and glancing out the window.
“They’re still out there,” she says, the light from outside illuminating her face for a moment, before she drops the curtain back into place. Turning to face us, she says, “More of them, now.”
“You’re all welcome to come stay at my place,” I say, clearing my throat and crossing my arms. “Since this whole thing is my fault.”
“It’s not,” Elsie protests, “I should have known better than to open the door?—”
“You shouldn’t have to be uncomfortable in your own home.”
“And why would your place be any better?” Mabel questions, raising a cool eyebrow in my direction.
“Fence,” I offer, returning her level gaze. “Locked gate. Paparazzi isn’t getting into my property unless they want to get electrocuted.”
“Is that even legal?” Hattie asks, eyebrows shooting up.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, gaze moving to Elsie. “I want you to come. They’re not going away tonight, I promise you that. Especially if Leda is riling them up.”
“Sorry,” Hattie laughs, waving her hands in front of her face, “You just—you’re so casual about it! You married a movie star. Sorry—it’s just weird.”
I let out a laugh, shaking my head at this interesting character, then return my gaze to Elsie, who’s fiddling with a ring, turning it around and around her pinkie finger.
“Well,” Mabel says, her voice a little louder, “I’m more than comfortable staying here. Let another one of them come up here, and this time,I’llbe the one to open the door.”
“If Mabel is staying, then so am I,” Hattie seconds.
I’m still looking at Elsie, who looks like she might be sick. “Elsie?”
She glances first at Mabel, then at Hattie. Something passes through them that I can’t translate, then she glances at me.
