Coach's Number One

Chapter Seven

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Dedication: Lapis_Lazuli_Willow for the awesome cover! Thank you!

Recap:

"Mm," I mumbled. "Turn left up here."

"Okay," he said. "Oh and Grace, we probably shouldn't tell anyone about this either. Just in case they assume we... ya know."

"Uh-huh," I mumbled. "Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation."

I just knew he was frowning. "Grace, it's not like that. I'm the Coach."

"I know."

My body felt like lead. I was so exhausted. I could feel sleep tugging at me and I was effortless in preventing it.

Finally, I let the blackness swallow me as I fell into a deep sleep.

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My head is pounding. My stomach is churning.

What the hell happened last night?

Letting my eyes flutter open, I groan. This isn't good.

"Morning sunshine," a too-cheery voice chirps, making the pounding in my head worse. "How are you feeling?"

Drawing my eyebrows together, slowly, I sit up. Since when did Harvey have muscles like that?

I blink, trying to get my eyes to focus. A shirtless back meets my eyes. Whoever it is, is cooking. It smells delicious, even though all I want to do is puke.

Glancing down, I notice that I'm still in my skimpy Harley Quinn outfit from last night's adventures. Groaning again, I collapse back heavily onto the fold-out lounge.

"What happened?"

The guy turns around and my stomach clenches.

Why the hell am I with Coach Brennon? I glance down at my clothes again, and was immediately relieved as they were all still in the right place.

"This," he says, coming towards me casually. He passes me his phone into my palm and I drag my eyes from his defined chest, to the screen. "Is what happened."

Blinking furiously, forcing my eyes to focus, I stare at the message. Immediately, I am mortified.

Sent at 1:17am from iPhone.

Grace Connaway: Yooo Ash tonne, whats ip! jUst at a party n like was wondering you shuld swing by!! would be soo much fun ! I'm HARLEY QUINN you know like on that movie! Anyway, im heading home soon, wanna give me a lift? im hella hungry . Lets go swimming. I be on Boulevard in 10.

P.S you're kind of a babee

I. Am. Horrified.

Since when did my texting skills become so dismal? I must have been pretty drunk to send something like that. To the Coach, of all people.

He laughs at my expression of pure humiliation. 

"Don't worry, I don't care. It's funny."

"Funny is an interesting word to use," I groan, sliding the phone across the bench. "That's horrible."

Chuckling, he shrugs. He places two pieces of toast in front of me and my stomach growls in hunger.

"Thanks."

Tentatively, I take a bite. About three bites in, I'm sent running to the bathroom. I just made it, before I vomited what felt like my life's consumption of food into his pristine, white sink.