The Nerve Wreckers

part 1: Jerk

Carrie's

Why does this always happen to me? I swear I am cursed with eternal bad luck.

10 more minutes till classes start. There's no way I'm going to be late on the first day. Who knew ordering a caramel macchiato at Starbucks took so long? Well it just had to happen today, because of some asshole at the front of the line who insists on "extra hot, double blended", like he's some king. Ahem.

"Were you even listening? Like hello?" He sounded like white trash. His personality sucked. Unfortunately. For such a good-looking dude, it was such a shame.

"Carrie! Marcus!" The barista called out. I stepped up in a hurry, grabbed my ice-blended from the counter top. I had exactly six minutes to reach the swimming complex (which was almost a mile long, mind you). Life couldn't get any worse-

Oh. My. God. He did not just do that.

My top was stained with extra hot double blended coffee. Extra Hot. It burnt my body. I let out a silent yelp. The pain muted my vocal cords. And he just left. I shit you not; he sassily walked out of Starbucks, as if I were just a little peasant. Where are your manners, mister? I'm expecting at least an apology after spilling scalding-hot coffee on a stranger?

He better pray we never ever cross paths in this lifetime. And I mean it.

/Gasp/ I can barely breathe right now /Wheeze/ I barged into the shower room and shoved my bags into the locker. I took off my top to reveal my training swim suit, grabbed my goggles and dashed out to the Olympic-sized pool. I spotted my teammates already swimming and also, a very familiar silhouette, who I assumed was the coach. I tapped on his shoulder and immediately started a verbal diarrhea of apologies regarding my "punctuality". But when he turned around, I shit you not, I take it all back.

Ok. I'm in a bad dream.

"You... jerk." I muttered, a bit too loudly.

"Excuse you?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

I wanted so badly to just jam my fist in his face. I scrunched my fingers and exhaled deeply. Self control. He is your coach, Carrie. You cannot get kicked out of this swimming program. Just suck it up this time. Come on Carrie, you can do this.

"No... nothing much" I crafted a sentence that was barely even English.

"So, you're Carrie Dillon? What makes you think you're different from the rest of the team, such that you can stroll in 10 minutes late?" He darted his eyes at me.

"Whoa there. Clearly there is something you haven't gotten straight. Firstly, I wouldn't be late because of your dick move at Starbucks, holding up the line like we are supposed to wait for you to receive your perfectly put together latte? Plus you don't just sass the barista like they owe you, because they don't, so shut your trap! And not even a single apology for spilling coffee on somebody else? Rude! The reason I'm late is because of you, so don't give me all that bull crap."

He looked at me as if I had issues. Wait a minute. Maybe he didn't know that he spilled coffee on me? Oops. I bet he didn't understand a word of my rant.

"Lets settle this after class. Give me eight laps of butterfly." He stated wryly, clenching his teeth together. I guessed he probably decided not to aggravate me any more least I turn into the female Hulk.

I can't believe I am stuck with him the entire summer. Isn't summer supposed to be fun and exciting? Not having to interact with people you hate? Make it worse, he's my coach; I have to take instructions from him. Dear god, is this some kind of joke?