Page 17 of Grace

“You’re looking very pretty today.”

“Thanks,” I replied—and I was definitely blushing.

“Can I introduce you to the others? They can’t wait to meet you. And I can’t wait for you to meet them, either.”

“Sure,” I said, nodding firmly.

Billy took my hand.

His palm was slippery with sweat. I tried not to think about it—and about Chase’s masculine hands, which kept intruding into my thoughts.

I didn’t memorize all the names. It would’ve been impossible to remember that many, and by the end I’d lost track. I figured I could always ask Billy if I needed help.

“Wanna hang around for a bit? We’re practicing passes,” one of the guys said, spinning the ball on his index finger.

“We’ve already got plans—and Grace doesn’t like football,” Billy replied.

“Maybe this’ll help her like it a bit more. Yeah, it can be boring to watch, but you’ll get the hang of it, and then it’s fun,” he pressed.

“Grace?” Billy asked, glancing at me.

I felt like I needed to get my head out of my ass.

“Okay,” I agreed. Billy kissed my cheek.

“She’s my girl, so go easy on her, guys.”

His timid warning made me laugh. There were much taller, bigger guys on the team who could’ve swatted him away like a fly with one hand.

In the end, Billy’s teammate turned out to be wrong: I neither got the hang of it nor enjoyed it at all. Still, I told them I did—for Billy’s sake, I allowed myself a white lie. Thankfully, we didn’t stay long.

After practice, Billy and I decided to cool off with an ice cream. Some of the guys joined us, the others went home.

We were walking off the field hand in hand when we noticed Mr. Miller sitting in the stands. Alone. Billy’s grip tightened around my hand.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered. His face was red, and a rivulet of sweat ran from his black hair down his neck.

“My brother said that Mr. Miller is… a pedophile,” he finally blurted out, after searching for the word, visibly aghast at what he’d just said.

“I mean…” He stopped and shook his head, sending droplets of sweat flying—a few landed on my face. It was a little gross, so I wiped them away discreetly.

“So this rumor’s been going around for five years. My brother says he watches girls for way too long.”

I instantly remembered what Chase had told me—and his kiss, which had saved me.

The whole thing grew more and more uncomfortable. I’d still have to attend Mr. Miller’s classes with all of this in my head. When he looked at me, my stomach twisted into a knot, a chill running down my spine despite the scorching heat.

Once we passed him, the gloomy, tense silence evaporated.

However, not much later, he reappeared at the ice cream parlor. He stood near our table and struck up a conversation with a few kids he taught. He acted relaxed and natural and didn’t look at me—but my heart was still in my throat. Being around him made me nervous.

Things were beginning to grow awkward but one of Billy’s friends made a remark suggesting he should leave us alone. Mr. Miller must have heard it. He looked at us with disapproval, which shifted into disappointment. He decided to take the hint, then turned and left.

After our ice cream, Billy and I took a walk through the park, kissed, and decided to meet again the next day—just the two of us.

He wanted to ride home with me, but I insisted there was no need. He lived on the other side of town, and I didn’t want him biking that far.

Later, I regretted that decision. I had the distinct feeling I was being followed—someone’s eyes on me. Even the thought of our next date lost its flavor. Wanting to get home as fast as possible, I left the main road and cut through smaller streets that offered a shortcut.