Page 9 of Sexting the Coach

Hence, the drafts.

Instead of continuing to ruminate over that, I hit the button to draft a new text, finding Wolfe’s number in the staff directory, plugging it in.

Once, when I was home for the holidays during college, Hattie had questioned the process, saying it was a little too risky to make sense to her. Why not do it in the notes app?

I managed to convince her that it was drafting the text, actually seeing it as a message that could go out that would trick my brain into believing it. It helped me to feel like things could be resolved, even if they weren’t.

And it’s not like I can avoid Wolfe for the rest of this camp—let alone the rest of the year.

So, instead, I draft out some messages.

Elsie:I know that you don’t want to tell anyone, but I can tell that you’re hurt. And, as a medical professional, I’d be more than happy to take a look.

Elsie:Also, if you hadn’t been so dead-set on getting me during the game, you wouldn’t have gone down like that.

I pause, biting my lip, my fingers hovering over the keys, my heart pounding like this is a real message I might actually send.

But it’s just a draft.

Just an exercise.

A way to get everything out of my system.

And it’s not going to work if I don’t geteverythingout of my system.

After a moment of hesitation, my fingers start to fly over the screen, the words coming out faster than what I can keep up with.

Elsie:I’ll confess—I was checking you out earlier. And I think you were checking me out, too.

I swallow, glance over at Mabel, half expecting her to be sitting up at bed, her eye mask propped on her face, wearing that surprisingly maternal look and demanding to know what the hell I’m doing up this late.

But she’s still turned away from me, her torso expanding and contracting gently as she breathes. Deep asleep.

Adrenaline courses through me as I finish up my little sprint of text writing.

Elsie:I’d like to do a lot more than just check you out next time. I want to touch more than just your hip, want to see what’s under your shorts. Want to know what you’d do to me, if you got the chance.

It’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to drafting a sext in my life.

Jonathan always pressed for that kind of thing, but I was too mortified to think of what might happen if I said something cringy or unsexy and it got out to the wrong people.

I set my phone face down on the nightstand and walk to the bathroom, using the toilet quick and splashing some cold water on my face after I wash my hands. When I come back to bed, I think of the text my mom sent me earlier and pick the phone up to text her back.

The light flashes into my eyes, and it takes me a moment to see what’s on the screen.

Elsie:I’d like to do a lot more than just check you out next time. I want to touch more than just your hip, want to see what’sunder your shorts. Want to know what you’d do to me, if you got the chance.

Sent five minutes ago.

Seen by Weston.

Oh,fuck.

Chapter 4

Weston

I’d like to do a lot more than just check you out next time.