Page 19 of Rock Bottom Girl
“So thirsty. The girls okay?”
“They’re fine. You’re real freaking lucky. What the hell were you thinking? First of all, it’s too fucking hot to run sprints. The body’s main priority is to keep itself cool. Pushing everyone like that in Pennsylvania August doesn’t build endurance or speed. It makes kids sick.”
“I noticed,” she said, rubbing a hand over what was probably a big-ass headache.
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered under my breath. I dug through the dinosaur desk drawers until I came up with a bottle of expired aspirin. “Here.”
When she fumbled the bottle, I took it back, shook out a couple of caplets. She took them, downed them dry.
“I repeat. What the hell were you thinking? These girls went through enough last year. Now you’re trying to kill them on the field?”
She didn’t answer.
Grumbling to myself, I refilled her cup and brought it back. “Better?”
“Yeah,” she nodded.
“You’re a real hot mess, you know that?”
She looked up at me for the first time, and I remembered those eyes. The kind of light, warm brown that made me think of brownies and bourbon.
I even remembered what they looked like one second after I’d kissed the hell out of her all those years ago.
Yeah, I remember you.
“I am well aware,” she said, snapping me out of my trip down memory lane.
“Good. Now, let’s go.”
“You’re really bossy. You know that?” She made it to her feet, and I had to give her credit for not immediately collapsing back into the chair.
“So I’ve been told.”
“Am I fired?” she croaked.
“How the hell should I know? Come on.”
I led the way out of the locker room and toward the glass doors. This was the main entrance for the gym. The girls’ locker room was on one side of the gym and the guys’ on the opposite. I pushed the door open and surveyed my ragtag bunch of students. “Who wants Italian ice?”
A cheer rose up, and I felt like a damn hometown hero. It was little moments like this that made the hard work and frustrations of teaching and coaching worthwhile.
Marley trudged out of the door behind me sucking on a water bottle.
“Let’s go, troops.” I hooked an arm through hers to keep her on her feet. We made a pitstop at my SUV for my own water bottle, phone, and wallet.
I fired off a text to Mariah.
Me: Got a small army coming. Ready the electrolytes and pickle juice.
She responded immediately.
Mariah: God I love the smell of preseason.
“Where are we going?” Marley asked.
“To rehydrate.”
“Will there be beer?”
