Rule #1: You Can't Date the Coach's Daughter (The Rules of Love) Read online

  Before I could delve deeper into my curiosity, Ms. Swallow made her way to the front of the classroom and grabbed a stack of papers. She began handing them out and talking about her plans for the class.

  “And now for partners.” She tapped her chin as she glanced around. “Well, I guess the old alphabet trick has never let me down. Might as well continue it.”

  Once she located the class list, she began to read off names. As people were called, the sound of lab stools scraping against the floor filled the air.

  “Blake…”

  My ears perked at Tyson’s name. Hope filled my chest for a moment before I reminded myself that there was an entire letter between his name and mine.

  “Carter.”

  Of course. Brutus. How guys like Tyson were so lucky to magically get paired with their friends boggled my mind. But me? I’d probably be stuck with the kid who licks the beakers.

  “Brutus Carter?” Ms. Swallow called out.

  And then realization hit me. Brutus had left. Maybe—

  “Alright, since there is no Mr. Carter, let’s see…Davis.”

  And my stomach sank to the floor. I closed my eyes as I waited for her to admit that this was all a joke and that there was no way on God’s green earth I was going to be paired with Tyson Blake.

  But the scraping of chair legs surrounded me, and Ms. Swallow began calling more names.

  “This seat taken?” Tyson asked.

  I swallowed, counted down from three, and opened my eyes. “No,” I squeaked. Great. Every time I talked to Tyson I sounded like an idiot.

  He glanced over at me and then pulled his notebook from his backpack. “I hope the Boss will be okay with this.” He held up his hands. “It’s mandatory. He can’t get mad at me if another teacher is forcing us to talk.”

  Ouch. Forced to talk.

  I let out a nervous giggle and turned back to the list that Ms. Swallow had included in the packet she’d handed out. Truth was, I wasn’t sure how my dad would feel about me getting paired with Tyson. I was about 99% sure he’d hate the idea. But like Tyson said, it was mandatory. Dad couldn’t very well march up to Ms. Swallow and demand that we change lab partners. Could he?

  The rest of class was spent going over the syllabus and Ms. Swallow’s expectations. By the end, I was pumped to be taking this class. She had a lot planned, and it excited me.

  Tyson, on the other hand, looked less than thrilled. He packed up his notebook, shouldered his bag, and headed out of the room.

  I sat back in my chair, watching his retreat. A bubble of excitement exploded in my stomach. I was partnered with Tyson. Me. Girl that was banned from ever talking to a boy. Ever.

  I grabbed my belongings, shot Ms. Swallow a smile, and headed out into the hall. I was supposed to meet Rebecca at my locker so we could walk to second period together.

  Thankfully, she was waiting for me when I arrived. My smile must have tipped her off because she raised her eyebrows.

  “What’s with you? Why are you so happy?”

  I shrugged as I pulled open my locker door and slipped the beast that was my calc book onto the top shelf. “You will never believe what just happened to me,” I said, glancing over at her.

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  Taking a moment to bask in what had just happened, I turned and took a deep breath. “Tyson is in my Chem class and is partnered with me.”

  “No!”

  “Yes! Mr. Barnes had a panic attack, so he’s gone. And the new teacher did the OCD method to pair us up, and D comes after B, so…” I turned back around to grab my art book and slammed my door.

  Rebecca was nodding. “Nice. Now your dad can’t say anything if he talks to you. It’s teacher ordered. You have to get to know Tyson Blake.” Rebecca wrapped her arms around her books as we headed down the hall. “It’s perfect.”

  I spent the rest of the day too excited to focus. I wanted to get to practice to see if Tyson was going to treat me any different. Part of me hoped that he’d walk up to me and ask me something. And when my dad came over, we’d just wave him away, saying it had to do with school.

  So, when the bell rang at two o’clock, I practically sprinted down to my dad’s office. He was sitting at his desk doing paperwork.

  “Hey, Tiny,” he said when I walked in, dropped my backpack on the floor, and collapsed in my chair.

  He seemed like he was in a good mood. I debated on whether I should tell him about my new lab partner or wait.

  Knowing he would most likely ruin my excitement, I went with wait.

  “Hey, Dad.” I glanced around the room while he kept writing on a piece of paper. “Do you know about the new Chem teacher we have? Ms. Swallow?”

  He glanced up at me with wide eyes. His expression threw me off as he mumbled something like, there were a lot of teachers and how was he supposed to know just one. Then he turned his attention back to his paperwork.

  I studied him. That was weird. Was he not telling me something? Instead of asking, I just brushed it off. “I’m excited to be in her class. She’s really nice, and she’s going to be a good teacher. I can tell.”

  He nodded and then looked up. “Jug, hon,” he said, pointing the tip of his pencil at the big and circular, orange water cooler I had put away yesterday.

  Right. If he wasn’t focused on killing my love life, Dad only thought about one thing. Football.

  I grabbed the table, jug, and bag of cups and shuffled out of his office. It was a long walk out to the field by myself. Unfortunately for me, no one on the team would ever think of helping. They were too worried about the laps they would have to run if my dad caught them.

  Just as I pushed open the gymnasium door to head outside, the table slipped from my grasp and crashed down on my foot.

  I yelled and jumped, sending the jug tumbling down to the ground. The noise echoed off the gym’s high ceilings and hardwood floors. I bent down to pick up what I’d dropped, grateful no one had been around to see me.

  “You need help?” Tyson asked.

  I glanced up to see him, dressed in his football uniform. The one that hugged him in all the right places. Bless the creators of football uniforms.

  I swallowed. What was I supposed to say? I wanted to say yes, even though I knew what my dad would do to him if he found Tyson anywhere near me. I couldn’t help it. When the captain of the football team and most likely to be homecoming king asks you if you want help, you say yes.

  So I obeyed that one very obvious rule. “Yes,” I said, nodding my head a bit too vigorously.

  Calm down, Tiny. He’s just helping you with the water set-up, not giving you a kidney.

  So I slowed my nod and tried to act relaxed. “That would be okay, I guess.”

  He glanced over at me as he bent down and picked up the jug that had rolled across the gym floor. I bent down to pick up the table. When I straightened, I yelped.

  Tyson had magically appeared right next to me.

  “You’re a ninja,” I said, the words slipping out. I winced. Who says that?

  “What?” he asked. When I glanced up at him, I saw that his lips had tipped up into a smile. “Did you just say ninja?”

  I scoffed. How the heck was I going to get out of this? Deciding it would be best to just roll with it, I shrugged. “You’ve never been told that?”

  He shook his head. “Not even once.”

  I’d been so focused on watching his expression that I didn’t notice he’d reached out to grab the table from me until his fingers brushed against my own. I swallowed as I glanced down. His fingers were touching mine. Mine!

  I let go, snapping my hand back, and glanced around. I half expected my dad to come barreling into the gym, all red-faced and snarling. But nothing happened.

  I let out the breath I had been holding. When I glanced over, Tyson was studying me. I felt like I needed to say something.

  “Thanks for that,” I said, nodding toward the table. I took a few steps back, just in case good ole Dad s
aw us.

  He shot me a smile. “No problem. The table is about the same size as you.”

  “Hey,” I said, shooting him a stern look. I turned and pushed open the door, holding it as he walked through. “Only a select few people can make fun of my height.”

  He shrugged as I let the door shut behind us. The heat clung to my skin. I led the way down to the field. Tyson had grown silent, and I wondered if I had offended him. As I replayed our conversation over in my mind, I couldn’t figure out how that could have happened. He’d made fun of my height. Right?

  “Can I ask you something?” His voice had grown so quiet, I wondered if I had heard him right.

  Grateful I hadn’t offended him, I glanced over. “Sure.” Then I backpedaled. “Well, it depends on what you want to know.” I pushed my hair from my face. It clung to my skin like octopus tentacles. I should have put it up in to a ponytail before coming outside.

  “Are you smart? Like, really smart?” He glanced over at me, his eyes a deep blue.

  “Um.” How was I supposed to answer that. Was this a humility test? If I said yes, I’d sound conceited. If I said no, well, that would be a blatant lie. So I settled with, “Sort of?”

  His eyebrows knit together. “How is someone sort of smart?”

  We were at my usual spot, so I dropped the bag of cups onto the ground and waved for him to hand me the table. He shook his head, set the jug down, and began to unfold it. Not sure what to do, I stood back, watching his perfectly formed muscles move as he set it up.

  “Well, I’m not sure how to answer that without sounding conceited.” I pulled my hair back into a bun at the nape of my neck.

  When he stood and glanced over at me, I could have sworn I saw his gaze hesitate on my neck. I blinked, and he was back to looking at my eyes. It was my imagination. It had to be.

  “So you are smart. I figured that since you were in a senior Chem class.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Do you tutor? Like, could you help me with Chem?”

  My heart hammered so hard that I thought it might leap from my chest and take off down the field. Was Tyson Blake asking me for help?

  He widened his eyes. “Oh, it wouldn’t be anything like that. It would just be one lab partner helping another lab partner out.” He held up his hands, as if spending time with me outside of a school assignment would be absurd.

  I tried to not let that hurt my feelings. He was probably just trying to protect himself. If my dad caught wind of any of this, the answer would be a flat-out no, and Tyson would be running laps from now until graduation.

  “Of course,” I scoffed. “I knew that.” Other football players began to appear on the field. I knew my dad was moments behind them. My mind raced as I tried to come up with a way to pull this off.

  “Here,” Tyson said, reaching out and grabbing my hand. Tingles erupted from his touch and raced up my arm. “Do you have a pen?”

  I shook my head.

  “Hmm.” He glanced around, while still holding my hand. I couldn’t focus on anything other than how small my fingers looked next to his.

  Suddenly, he dropped my hand and bent down, grabbing a stick. He wrote the number 714-555-9823 in the dirt. “That’s my number,” he said, motioning toward it. “Text me when you’ve decided.”

  “BLAKE!” my dad bellowed.

  My stomach sank as I glanced up to see Dad barreling toward us. His face was red, and his gaze was fixed on Tyson.

  “I gotta go,” he said, turning and running to meet my dad.

  After a brief exchange, Tyson’s shoulders dropped, and he began a slow jog around the field. My dad turned to stare at me. He pointed at me and then to the jug. I sighed as I nodded and picked up the bag of cups to set them onto the table.

  And then my gaze made its way over to Tyson’s number. To his personal cellphone—that he gave me permission to text. I blinked a few times, but the numbers remained, scratched into the dirt.

  I was going to talk to Tyson Blake again.

  Chapter Three

  Practice seemed to drag on and on. By the time my dad blew the whistle and the players made their way off the field, I’d memorized Tyson’s phone number—which I promptly erased. I’d also woven a bunch of blades of grass and successfully built a pyramid with the cups.

  Tomorrow, I was going to bring my backpack and get a jump start on my homework.

  After the football players were hydrated, I packed up and headed back toward the school. Rebecca didn’t have practice today, so that left me to lug the items in alone. Once they were successfully put away, I grabbed a notebook and a pen. I wrote Tyson’s number down, just in case I hit my head and developed amnesia, and stuffed it into my backpack.

  Then I waited for Dad to come back from the field.

  It took about ten minutes for him to appear. He was talking to Xavier. Just as he entered his office, the now-clean football players began to emerge from the locker room. I tried hard not to stare, but I wanted to see Tyson again. I wanted to make sure that I hadn’t dreamed up this whole situation.

  Just as Tyson passed by the office door, my dad called out his name.

  My stomach sank. Did he know that Tyson wanted to spend time with me? I glanced over at my dad and I relaxed a bit. He was flipping through his clipboard at his desk. His shoulders were relaxed, and his skin tone was normal.

  “You called me, Boss?” Tyson asked as he stepped into the room.

  My dad nodded. “You’ve been late the last few practices.” He let the paper drop as he glanced up. “Is this something I should be worried about?”

  I felt Tyson’s gaze on me, but when I moved to meet it, he’d turned back to study my dad. I let my gaze linger on his face. How could anyone have such perfect features?

  “I stopped by yesterday to apologize. I know the rule, and I promise it won’t happen again.”

  My dad leaned forward. “It better not.”

  Tyson ran his hands through his hair. “Yep.”

  Dad scoffed and folded his arms. “You’re not the only one who can be quarterback. Don’t let that idea get cemented in your brain. If you don’t take this seriously, I’ll find someone who will.”

  Tyson’s gaze made its way over to me. I studied my hands in my lap. For some reason, I didn’t want him to think I was eavesdropping on their personal conversation, even though it was pretty hard not to, with me sitting right there.

  “I get it.” Tyson shrugged as if this didn’t bother him, when I could see that it did.

  My dad clenched his jaw but nodded. “Good. You can go.” He set the clipboard down and began rifling through some stacks of paper on his desk.

  I glanced up to see Tyson nod. As he turned to leave, his gaze met mine. After making sure my dad wasn’t watching, he motioned with his thumbs for me to text him. I pinched my lips as I glanced over at my dad, who hadn’t bothered to look up.

  I nodded at Tyson and he smiled. Then he slipped from my dad’s office and out into the hall. I couldn’t help but wonder what that had been about.

  Before I could delve too far into dissecting his intentions, my dad grunted from his desk. I could tell that Tyson had bothered him. Dad was serious about winning state this year, which meant he wanted his players to be just as committed.

  His captain suddenly wanting to ditch out on a practice couldn’t sit well with him.

  “Do you know why he’s been late?” His gravely voice broke through my thoughts.

  I glanced over at him and shook my head. Hopefully, it didn’t look too spastic. “No. Why would I know?” An uncomfortable feeling bubbled up in my chest, causing me to giggle a bit too high.

  Dad studied me. “You two were talking on the field earlier. What was that about?”

  I shrugged, hoping it came across as nonchalant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He just helped me bring the table out to the field. That was all.” My eyes widened. Hopefully that hadn’t been a mistake to confess.

  A disgruntled look passed ove
r his face, but he didn’t freak out, which was nice. “Hmm.” He tapped his pen on his desk and then leaned back in his chair.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I said, hoping to help him calm down.

  He glanced over at me and sighed. “Yeah. You’re probably right.” He dropped his pen into the cup on his desk and smiled at me. “Ready to go? I was thinking we could grab a pizza on our way home,” he said as he pushed his chair back and stood.

  “Pizza, Dad? Really?”

  “It’s either that or my cooking.”

  I puffed out my cheeks like I was holding in vomit. “Ugh, pizza it is,” I said, slinging my backpack onto one shoulder and following him out of his office.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  I sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor later that night, staring at my phone that was sitting next to the paper with Tyson’s number. I’d been trying to work up the courage to text him for ten minutes now.

  He needed to know my answer. I’d decided that I wasn’t going to break my dad’s rule and hang out with a boy. After all, it wouldn’t end well for Tyson. I would hate to find out what would happen to a guy who was caught alone with me.

  “Just pick it up and text him,” I whispered. My hand hovered over the phone. I could do this. It was just a text after all. An impersonal, easy form of communication.

  As I lowered my hand to pick my phone up, it rang. I almost jumped out of my skin. Glancing down, I saw it was Rebecca. Good. A distraction.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Destiny. Whatcha doing?”

  I sighed, flopping onto my back and staring up at the ceiling. “Ruining my own life.”

  Rebecca laughed.

  “Hold on, I would actually have to have a life to do something like that.” I sighed, blowing a strand of hair from my face. “Which I do not.”

  “What? Why are you being dramatic?”

  I could hear the tapping of computer keys in the background. “Are you doing homework?” I asked.

  The noise stopped. “I can talk to you and write a paper at the same time.”