Coach's Daughter

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"How'd the game go?" I asked, holding my phone between my chin and my ear as I walked down the hall of the small house.

"Uh..." Jesse, my best friend, trailed off. "Bella, you know your dad and let's just say he is not going to be too happy when he gets home."

"Oh." I muttered, frowning. "Don't tell me they lost."

"Barely scraped by with a win." Jesse told me. "Look, I gotta go, Nick just got here. See ya!" Jesse exclaimed before cutting me off for her boyfriend. Figures, ever since Nick came into the picture, I was suddenly an accessory only to be utilized when she was bored.

I set my phone on Do Not Disturb and tossed it on the counter, opening up the fridge to grab some food before dad came home.

Anything I could do to avoid him tonight...

The tough losses, I could understand. He deserved to be pissy. But when they won yet he acted like they were going down the drain? I didn't have enough emotional capacity to deal with that drama.

I grabbed a tub of hummus and some carrots just as the garage door opened. I snatched my phone up and jogged down the hallway to my room, kicking the door shut and tossing the objects on my bed.

I twisted my hair up into a bun as I walked over to the stereo, using my toe to switch it on and adjust the volume to loud enough that I couldn't hear anything else but not so loud to cause damage.

The louder my music, the more my dad knew to steer clear of my room. And after soccer games, whether ones I played in or he coached, we didn't interact well together.

I glanced over at the food, resting my hand on my stomach as I debated whether or not to eat now or later.

I thought back to my workout earlier and figured it was sufficient enough, so to the beat of All Time Low, I sat down on my bed with my carrots and hummus and relaxed into my solitude.

I had debated whether or not I wanted to go to the game tonight, and now was glad that I didn't go. It's one thing to watch the guys play a cohesive game, something I can appreciate. But when they can't connect, it's infuriating to watch, knowing full well their potential.

My dad played for Chelsea back in his day. Mind you, he spent most of his career on the bench, getting put in at the end of a few consecutive games before finally getting his big break in a game against Manchester United, where he promptly blew out his back in the first three minutes of the game.

Spent a few years back on the reserves team, but never quite reached the same potential. Moved out to America, met my mom, had me, and now coaches a high school soccer team with potential to go far.

My mom was a soccer star herself, an Olympic Gold medal sitting proudly on the mantle, a reminder of the success I had to live up to.

I inherited the skill, I really did, but what was it really all for? It's not like I'd ever live up to the potential my parents expected from me. Their incessant push to train, to eat right, to live right, to do everything the exact way they did, had ruined it. I didn't want to follow in their footsteps, no matter how hard they pushed.

Due to moving around a lot when I was little for my mom's military service, I turned 18 in the first few months on my Junior year.

When I was fifteen, I realized that they'd stop at nothing to get me where they had been. So I went to the guidance counselor the first week of high school and told them I wanted to graduate in three years. I've had the idea since eighth grade and I was months away from completing it.

I worked my ass off for three years, summers included, and had all the qualifications for my diploma by the end of my junior year. Knowing if I skipped town at the beginning of summer, my dad would track me down before fall, I knew that wasn't my best option.

So here I was, taking a full schedule of electives one last semester until I started at University of Michigan in the winter semester.

They had absolutely no idea.

I reached for my laptop and intended to spend the rest of the evening watching The West Wing and eating too many carrots and too much hummus.

But as I scrolled through Instagram, an annoying amount of snapchat notifications kept popping up across the top of my screen.

I went to the app to see what was going on, shocked to see that somebody new had added me.

'JonahLincoln4 has added you as a friend!'

Excuse me?

Jonah Lincoln was the goalie on my dad's team who I'd always had a little thing for. If he wasn't barely 17 and obnoxious, and one of my dad's players, I would've gone for him a long time ago.

He was one of dad's captains, around the house all the time, which was way too close for comfort.

Did this mean anything?

It couldn't... Lots of people added me on snapchat because of my affiliation with soccer and, through Jesse, almost every other social group on campus.

I added him back anyways, not wanting to be that person who didn't add back people she knew.

Scrolling across to people who had snap chatted me, Ashley, one of the senior soccer players from my freshman year was messaging me.

*Bella!!!!!!*

*Tons of ppl @ my house rn*

*all soccer alum hotties*

*get ur butt over here*

*add to ur resume ;)*

I glanced at the clock... It was only 10... I could easily go out, have a night, and be back in time before my dad even noticed I was gone.

Soccer players were my type, easily. But with my dad as the coach, it was hard to go for them. People think girls are emotional when it comes to losing their virginities, but guys just get way too damn attached. Too many close calls and I permanently swore off dating any of the guys on my dad's team. There were only a few still on the team who I'd been with, so after this year my chances of being exposed were an absolute zero.

Older soccer guys however... Now that was my shit. This was a party I would have some fun at.

And Ashley only lived a few houses down. I could be there and back within just a few hours.

So I jumped out of bed, pulled on some old jeans and a plain black t-shirt, leaving my hair down and throwing on a bit of powder to soak up any oil on my face.

I sprayed my perfume one too many times, coughing as I slipped out of my window into the flower beds.

Fifty seconds later, I was walking into Ashley's house with a grin on my face as I saw multiple people I recognized.

One thing I really prided myself in was that I didn't have beef with any previous hookups. Like, they all still loved me. I was drama free, just here for a hell of a good time. No strings attached.

Two of my all time favorites, Peter Ryan and Jack Freedman, spotted me almost instantly and started walking over with massive grins on their faces.

But before I could do the cliche 'omg how've you been you look great been a while hasn't it?' nonsense, Ashley came barreling around the corner.

She pounced on me with a wet kiss to the cheek, shoving a white claw in one hand and her dab pen in the other.

"This is gonna be a night, I assume?" I laughed, cracking open the drink immediately.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." She winked, pulling me over to the people sitting around the couch.