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The game is rough.We’re in the second set, we won the first but this one isn’t looking too hot. It’s eight-to-ten.
The first person sets the ball up. I see the set, I’m laser-focused, until something catches my eye. The raven hair, the smile that I’ve seen a thousand times on Instagram but never in real life. It’s like time slows until it comes to a halt. Heath’s eyes widen when he sees me. My heart slows, and I feel a bit sluggish as I watch him. His mouth makes an “ouch” motion at the exact time a slap comes to my cheek, knocking me on my ass, and I lay on the ground catching my breath.
“Shit,” Macy says, grabbing my hand to pull me up. “You good?” she asks.
My hand goes to my swollen cheek immediately. It radiates pain, heating as it swells. I nod, looking over to the volleyball that’s rolling from me to the crowd. Must have been where the slap came from.I have to focus. It doesn’t matter that he’s here. He doesn’t know who you are and never will. Now, get it together, you have a game to win.
The whistle blows as Coach Victor huddles us in. He’s a bald man in his mid-forties, built like a brick house, and loves to throw profanities at the refs, but he’s a damn good coach. “You okay, Callum?”
I nod, taking in the crowd and freezing when my eyes reach the very top of the bleachers. Richard sits there, eyes focused on me with concern. Something like hope fills my chest. Because he’s actually here. Watching me. A smile threatens to break through as I look back to Coach Victor who is giving us his version of a pep talk. “Suicide drills until you puke if you lose to them today.”
We all groan, throwing our hands in the circle, breaking with a loud “Bears!”
I take my spot at the far side of the front line, my knees bending as I get ready. They serve the ball to Janis, and she pops it up. Macy gets under, setting the ball up for me. Doing a tiny run, I jump, putting all my power in my hit as I spike the ball over the net. It hits right behind the girl in the middle at the front. The crowd goes wild as I high five Macy, bumping our hips together.
The rest of the game, I give it my all. My blocks at the net are fierce, my spikes the hardest they’ve ever been. I have someone in the stands to impress. Because Richard, he finally showed up, and I am not letting him down.
We end up pulling out a win.
And better yet, Richard saw every minute of it.
* * *
Jake waitsfor me after the game. I stink, I’m sweaty, and my two braids are falling loose, yet still, he smiles. Smiles like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He opens his arms and I fall into him. “Well, damn. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play so hard in my life.”
“Thanks.” I squeeze him. Pulling back to lay a small kiss on his lips. He groans when I pull away, climbing into his car so he can take me back to school to get to mine. “You want to grab some dinner or do you just want me to take you to your car?”
I think about it. “Let’s take a rain check. I need to go home and put some ice on this chipmunk cheek.”
He looks over at me. “Shit, babe, I forgot.”
“It’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal, not the first time.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, but how could he just forget or not pay attention to my face?
He laughs, grabbing my hand. “Atta girl.”
Jake is amazing, a great boyfriend, but something is starting to feel off.
CHAPTER FOUR
I sitin my study at my home, the smell of cedar and old leather comforting. The deep reds and rich brown familiar. When I am home, you could find me here, in bed, or in my home gym.
The paper is soft and flimsy between my rough, calloused fingers. The pink ink a bright contrast to the white paper.
I will not write fantasies about my teacher.
And then,I will write whatever the fuck I want in my own personal journal because who will stop me?
Then,I will not write fantasies about my teacher.
She’s clever, Callum. A very bright student of mine. I’m not surprised by this stunt. Most teachers would have skimmed through it, they would have checked the first and last pages, but something compelled me to read all of it.
She’s not the first nor the last student to slowly fuck me with her eyes as I teach.
However, she’s the first to catch my attention. To make me question my morals.
Ever since the first day of school, which wasn’t that long ago, when she walked into my classroom and stopped at the threshold. I knew she was fucking trouble. With her fuck-me eyes, pouty painted lips, and those bows.
Those fucking bows.
