#ft. laura

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Gordy had promised to take his brother for a beer some night when they weren’t both working the next day, whereas Fliss had taken it upon herself to whisk the middle Woodrow sibling off into her bedroom. The two of them weren’t subtle, and Gordy had all but smothered himself with a pillow when he heard her moans filtering through the drywall. He supposed he should be proud that his brother could draw those sounds out of a pretty woman, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear ‘em. 

Sufficed to say, he was in a pretty foul mood by the time he showed up to work. Aside from the obvious fact that he was never exactly chirpy, it didn’t help that he was also running a football summer camp. Summer Camp, for Christ’s sake. One of the only perks of being a teacher – or a coach, which was really all he could be whittled down to – was that he got the damn summer off. So much for that, huh? 

Somewhere between running drills and playing practice games, Gordy had blown his whistle and shooed his kids off for lunch. They couldn’t train and play at their lunch if they were low on energy. He knew that better than anyone, especially given that he hadn’t had the foresight to bring his own lunch. The pennies had been tight this month – when weren’t they – and he’d prioritised helping Ace out with getting some new tools over running to the grocery store. Fliss kept the fridge well stocked but, given how much she’d already done for them, he hated to seem like he was scrounging. Besides, he wasn’t much of a caviar kinda guy. 

“Damn filter,” Gordy mumbled under his breath, a low growl settling in his chest. 

He’d been in the staff room for all of 3 minutes and already the coffee machine was acting up. He knew he wouldn’t be getting a whole lot to eat, but he thought he could at least keep himself awake with a little caffeine. That seemed like a dud now too, so he settled for throwing himself down on the communal sofa, head tipped back against the wall as he stared into space, wiling away the minutes until it was time to return to the field. 

Suddenly, the door to the staff room creaked open and his gaze darted over toward it, anticipating a sight that he knew would send his stomach into another, completely different frenzy. Sure enough, in walked Laura Timlin, one of four coaches to the cheer squad, looking as pretty as she always did. It was insufferable, the way her perfect ponytail seemed to swing just above her shoulders, hair framing her sweet, rosy cheeks. Libby had caught himself staring once when they’d been down at the rink, Laura accompanied by her blonde friend, and he’d almost impaled himself with Libby’s skates there and then. 

“Hey,” Gordy grumbled, voice low and barely even a whisper. Certainly not loud enough for Laura to hear, he realised. His lips were curled into a frown as he tore his gaze from hers, embarrassed. They didn’t usually talk much, so he figured today would be no different. 

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