Dean Allen had graduated the year before, had one season of college baseball under his belt, and was back at his old high school helping coach Miller with the baseball program. The volunteer position kept him in shape and his mind off his four-year girlfriend Amy who was studying in Europe that summer. Besides, coach Miller had been instrumental in landing Dean the scholarship in college.
The Tigers practiced in the early afternoon, which was fine with Dean. His mornings (because of the time difference) were filled with lonely hours waiting for Amy to call from England, mostly, but it could be Spain or France if she was on a break or something. "It's really easy to get around the Continent," Amy had told him in a call about three weeks earlier. She said "the Continent" as if she'd lived there her whole life. Sometimes, most of the time, Dean felt she'd been there his whole life.
Dean and Amy started dating their sophomore year and never stopped. Each was a bright, popular student, runners-up for king and queen of the prom, and everyone knew they would marry when college was over even though they attended different schools. Dean would be a professional ballplayer; Amy would be his agent. They'd talked about it a hundred times in the last four years. And Dean would wait until Amy was ready. He knew his friends were all getting pussy, they told him all the time. They assumed Dean as getting his, too; he'd told them as much. But the reality was that Dean and Amy had barely explored each other at all. A breast here and there, but that was about it. She would rub the front of his jeans on occasion and the experience would leave him terribly frustrated. Amy said their futures were too important, and wouldn't their wedding night be electric! "Explosive, is more like it," was his stock reply, and she would laugh. But Dean waited just the same.
The rain was just starting to fall when he arrived at the school. Coach Miller was putting on his Tiger jacket and collecting scorebooks and charts when Dean met him in the athletic office.
"Weather's just going to get worse. Canceled practice for today—just got off the phone with the last kid. We need a day off anyway, the way we've been playing."
Coach Miller seemed hurried and Dean said as much.
"Gonna' surprise Mrs. Miller," the coach said and grinned. Then he was serious again. "Dean, you could really help me."
"Sure."
"Get with Beth up in the office and make sure all the arrangements are made for the road game tomorrow: the bus, the game times, umpires...Make sure she checks with the Coolidge folks and that we are going to have umpires tomorrow. Remember when we went up there last year and the umps didn't show. Wasted Goddamn trip."
Dean remembered, all right. He was a senior and having a great summer at the plate. He woke up every day and knew he was going to get two or three hits. College recruiters were at most games. Even one missed game was viewed as a missed opportunity.
Dean said he would take care of everything and the coach left the office, pulling up his collar against the downpour outside.
Beth Miller was at the first desk inside the main office. She smiled when Dean entered, then returned to whatever she was doing on the computer in front of her. Beth had just graduated herself, but Dean didn't know what her plans were for the fall. She was pretty enough, Dean decided, with strawberry blonde hair, cute lips, small breasts, and great ass. He'd noticed her any number of times, and of course knew her fairly well as a friend, but she was a year behind him in school and they ran in different circles. Besides, she was the coach's daughter.
"Your dad," he started, and then stopped. Beth cringed a little. He started again. "Coach Miller wants to make sure everything is set for tomorrow."
Beth smiled at him again. "Thanks for that," she said. "I've already checked with Coolidge. They are ready for us tomorrow. My dad, uh, coach Miller asked me to do it first thing this morning."
They laughed. Dean knew Beth loved her father, but she didn't want to be known as coach Miller's daughter. She wanted to be Beth Miller.
"What's it like having your father here at school with you all day?" Dean asked. He sat of the corner of Beth's desk.
"It keeps me on the straight and narrow, I'll tell you that. Scares some of the guys, I think. You probably don't know this, but I didn't date much in high school. Next year is going to be great."
"Oh, why is that?" Dean asked, wondering if this conversation was going somewhere. He thought of Amy for a second, the focused on the pretty girl he was talking to. He could feel his smile stretched across his face.
"Freedom, man. Freedom." She threw her arms apart to express how much freedom she'd have without her father near her. Dean assumed that meant college, but didn't ask. When her arms were outstretched Amy's buttoned blue blouse puckered a little. Dean saw a glimpse of a white bra.
They laughed.
"Well, you're free now," Dean teased. "You've graduated from high school and your dad has left the building."
"That's not the freedom I am looking for, but it's the freest I've been today," Beth said, and slumped back into the black leather chair. "If coach Miller is gone that means we are the only people in the building." There was something in her voice that made Dean stir a little. He shifted on the edge of the desk.
They were silent for several long moments. Dean thought about leaving but looked out at the torrential rain outside. He thought there might be some things he could take care of in the athletic office, but he didn't move.
Finally, Beth spoke. "Did you ever have that dream where you come to school naked and you don't realize it until you are walking down the hall and everyone laughs at you?"
"Did I ever have that dream? I still have that dream," Dean said. They laughed.
"Oh God," Beth said, trying to sound serious. "I don't want to get to be your age and still have that nightmare."
"Yes, that would be awful," Dean said, also trying to keep a straight face. "But what are you going to do?"
