Class Act: A Coach/Student Romance

I CHECKED MY WATCH and swore under my breath. Damn, it was late. The players seemed energized enough to go through another hour of training, but I had to set their limits. The last thing I needed was for them to overwork themselves before our next big game.

“Okay, boys, let’s wrap it up.” I blew the whistle, and that got their full attention.

“Half an hour more, Coach?”

“Listen up. I know you’re passionate about the sport, and while that’s great, you shouldn’t overdo it. You need to give your muscles time to rest as well, so that’s it for the evening. We’ve already gone over time. Hit the showers and get home safely. You’re all looking sharp out there.”

My praise wasn’t idle words. Each player was putting out an amazing effort. Although they goofed off sometimes, they were focused when it mattered, and with every game we played, they were more determined to end this season as champions.

The players grabbed their water bottles and walked off the field, chatting and laughing.

“Harry,” I called after one of our substitute players.

The young man stopped walking and turned. “Coach?”

“How are the tutoring sessions coming along?” One of the things I’d done when I made head coach was arrange tutoring for the athletes who needed it. With the rigid training hours, some players had trouble keeping up with their schoolwork. Several students had volunteered as tutors and were helping them to get passing grades. Winning the state championship was great, but having all my students graduate from high school was even better.

“They’re going great,” Harry said. “I never thanked you properly for arranging a tutor for me, Coach. She’s fantastic.”

“I hope she’s not doing the work for you.”

“Not Amber. She makes me do everything myself.”

“Smart. The aim is to make sure you understand the material and can use it to pass your tests and in life. If she did the work for you, you’d only be cheating yourself.”

“Right.”

I patted his shoulder. “All right, then. Catch up with the others. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He loped off to the locker rooms. I strolled after him, smiling when one of the guys ribbed him about seeing his girlfriend instead of going out with them. Typical locker room stuff, so I didn’t pay them any mind.

When I was out of sight, I pulled my shirt forward, which was sticking to my skin. The sun was scorching today, and the humidity was awful.

At my office, I stopped in front of the notice board. More modifications had been made. Whiskers formed over i’s. The hearts were new and inappropriate. I should have erased them the moment I’d noticed.

I forgot.

Then do it now.

This boy would drive me to insanity if I let him.

I shook my head and opened my door. As soon as I was inside and had the door closed, I spun the lock and shrugged off my shirt. That was better. No more itching from all the sweating.

“That’s more like it.” I switched on the fan and closed my eyes. The cool breeze on my damp skin was heaven. I turned around to give my back the same treatment. I opened my eyes.

What the hell?

Emery.

He sat crouched on the floor between my desk and my chair. He swallowed and trailed his gaze over my torso. My naked torso. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His cheeks turned pink, but it was him biting his lower lip and the jolt to my cock that had me yanking my shirt back over my head.

“Emery, what are you doing in my office?”

He slowly rose to his feet but kept his distance. “You said I could come here at the end of the day.” He gestured to my desk, and I was at a loss for words. He’d tidied up the mess on my desk. But now I had no idea where anything was.

“But it’s late. You shouldn’t be here in my office at this hour.”

“Why not? I said I would help.”

“It’s just not appropriate, Emery.” Even though I had my shirt back on, the way he’d looked at me made me feel like I was still naked.

“What’s not appropriate? A student can’t help a teacher?”

“You’re doing detention, not voluntary service.”

He arched an eyebrow, and the corner of his lips lifted. “Is there a difference, really?”

I frowned. It was either that or return his smile. “What were you doing under the desk?”

“A paper flew onto the floor. I was trying to get it when the door opened, which reminds me.” He dropped to his knees and crawled under the desk. The breeze from the fan ruffled the material of his skirt around the back of his thighs, revealing pale skin. The flimsy material flirted along his skin, teasing my senses.

“Got it!” He backed out from under the desk, coming closer to the fan. The swirling air swept the hem of the skirt up, giving me a clear view of a round bottom hugged by purple silk with black lace trimmings and a bow. I’d thought seeing his naked ass in the torn pants had been bad, but this was worse. I itched to peel down the material and expose what charms he had underneath.

“Oops!” He swatted at the back of the skirt, and I averted my eyes and turned off the fan. It wasn’t working anyway. The fan couldn’t cool down the heat coursing through my veins.

I was sick.

This was wrong.

“You’ve done enough.” I took a step toward him and plucked the paper out of his grip. “Thank you for cleaning up my desk. It looks great, but you can go now.”

“Are you sure? I can help some more.”

Why would he offer that? A guy like him didn’t have an active social life?

“Nope. I’m about to leave for home, so you need to do the same.”

He sighed. “Okay, but I’m not even nearly finished yet. What time should I come tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to come in tomorrow. Or the rest of the week.”

“Sorry, Coach, but no can do. I made a promise, and I’m sticking to it.”

“But you have cheerleading practice, don’t you?”

“I can come during lunch and—”

“Out of the question.”

“Then how about before classes begin in the morning and during my free period? I can be here an hour earlier tomorrow morning.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He got to his feet, shuffled over to a chair in front of my desk, and lifted his bag. It was a light pink and blue swirl of colors with a fuzzy heart keyring of the same colors attached to one zipper. Gold stars adorned the front, and gold embroidery at the top read Princess.

Could he be any louder?

“I don’t mind. It’ll help distract me.” He slipped the straps of his bag over his shoulders. “So tomorrow at seven?”

“I don’t get here that early.”

He pouted, and my breath hitched. Did he really have no idea how his body language and facial expression came off as sultry and flirty?

“But I’ll leave the door open so you can get in.”

The pout turned into a smile. “Thanks.” He headed for the door, then stopped. “Uff, I almost forgot.”

He gestured at the desk organizer I had never seen before. “I cleared your desk of most things so you have the space to work. I also returned the documents to the students’ files. No need to worry. I’m not nosy. I didn’t look at anything.” He pulled out the top desk drawer, which now looked neat and tidy, with everything in its place. All the junk was gone. “I put away your supplies in the drawers and cleared them out, but I didn’t throw out anything.” He pointed at a box on the floor next to the desk. “You can find everything in there. I think it’s mostly junk, but you may want to check if there’s anything important you need.”

Damn, he was so pretty. He got animated when he told me what he had done, and my eyes followed his pink lips.

“Coach?”

I snapped out of my daze. My heart skipped a beat and pounded in my chest. I swallowed hard.

“Thank you for making everything look so neat.”

He winked at me. In all my years of teaching, had any student ever winked at me? I couldn’t recall. But Emery wasn’t like any other student. I’d never had this insane attraction to a student before. Denying what I felt was no use. At least by admitting it, I could do something about it to avoid trouble.

“You’re welcome. I enjoy tidying up. You should see my bedroom.”

Don’t think about it. Don’t you dare think about it.

By sheer force of will, I managed not to put Emery and a bed in the same thought.

“I should go. It might take me a while to get a ride. See you tomorrow.”

He was almost out the door when his words registered. “Why is it going to take a while? You have a car, don’t you?”

“My dad sold my car.” He clenched his jaw.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He’s an asshole.” He waved his hand. “I should—”

“I’ll give you a ride. To thank you for cleaning up my mess. Where do you live?”

He gave me his address, which was on the other side of town. Shit.

“It’s out of your way, so it’s okay,” he said.

“No, I insist. It’s already late, and trouble has a way of finding you.”

“Are you calling me a trouble magnet?”

I huffed a sound without directly responding and stuffed my laptop into my bag. I retrieved my set of keys from the hook and nodded at Emery. “Let’s go.”

He wasn’t the first student I’d offered a ride home, and I’d never thought twice about it before, but with Emery, it was different. The corridor was thankfully empty now, and we made it to my car without meeting anyone. With a sigh of relief, I pulled out of the parking lot.

“How do you plan to get here early tomorrow? You don’t have a car,” I asked him.

“I’ll find a way.”

“I’m offering you an out for detention. You should take me up on it.”

“No, thanks.”

No thanks? What did that mean? If I had told my students detention was over, they wouldn’t question it. Why was he being so stubborn?

“It’s not just about me,” he said. “You need the help. Your office is a disaster zone. A hazard waiting to happen.”

“Hey, watch it.”

“What are you going to do? Give me more detention?”

I gave him a sideways glance. He smirked like he knew all my thoughts. There had to be something I could do to make this ridiculous fascination I had with him go away.

A horn honked behind me, and I returned my attention to the road. The light had turned green.

We rode the rest of the way in silence. He didn’t seem to mind and typed away on his phone. Whomever he was talking to caused him to smile and chuckle. Which was way too disturbing, and I was relieved when I pulled up in front of his driveway.

“Thanks, Coach.” He grabbed his bag. “You’re every bit as nice as Mandy says.”

“You-you talk about me with Mandy?” My cheeks heated.

He got out of the car and poked his head back in with a dimpled smile. “Don’t worry. She only says good things about you. Cross my heart.”

I snorted, and my face burned even hotter. Good god, what was happening to me? All this flustering nonsense needed to stop.

“Emery!”

I’d never seen someone’s countenance change that fast. Emery snapped up straight, and shutters slammed over his eyes, hiding all the playfulness that had been there a minute ago. He clutched the straps of his bag as though needing something to keep him upright.

A man marched down the driveway towards us. With his wide shoulders, beer gut, and unkempt look, he couldn’t be any more different from the boy, and yet I could see tiny facial similarities—the shape of his face and his nose. He had to be Emery’s father.

“Dad, don’t make a scene.” Emery stepped away from the car. “I got a ride home because someone sold my car.”

“What did I tell you about bringing men to my house?” He grabbed the boy by the shirt front and jerked him forward. “Didn’t I tell you I don’t want any of that gay shit near me?”

“It’s the sidewalk, Dad. You don’t own it.”

Fuck. That boy was a trouble magnet, and his mouth only dug him in deeper.

“Hey, there’s no need for that.” I jumped out of my car, but the man had already hit Emery across the face. My blood boiled as I strode to him, my hands in fists at my sides. “You hit him one more time, and I’m calling the cops. Let him go.”

The man raised his arm, but instead of slapping Emery again, he shoved the boy away from him and stepped up to me so close we stood toe-to-toe.

“You gonna tell me what I can and cannot do to my son? What? You’re fucking him, and you think that gives you some sort of authority here? Well, get something straight.” He planted a hand on my chest and pushed me back. “You ain’t the first john he’s ever fucked, and you sure as hell won’t be the last. Get the hell off my property.”

What the hell? “There’s nothing going on between your son and me. He needed a ride—”

“I sure bet he did. You rubbing it into my face how my worthless piece of shit son lets himself be mounted like a fucking bitch?”

“Just go.” Emery rubbed over his cheek, which was already bruising. How could I leave him here? The man was repulsive.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“It’ll be fine. He gets like this when he drinks. When he sleeps it off, everything goes back to normal.”

But the man didn’t smell of alcohol, and he didn’t look drunk.

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t tell me I need to get my gun for you to take me seriously?” his dad shouted. “Get off my property.” He stalked toward the house.

“Please go,” Emery begged. “I can take care of myself.”

“But you—”

“You’re only making it worse. Just go.” He took a step toward the house, but I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back to me.

“Where’s your phone?”

“Why?”

“Just unlock it and give it to me.”

He moved as if in a daze and handed me the device. I punched in my phone number and saved it. “You need any help, Emery, don’t hesitate to call me. I don’t think you should be here.”

“And where else can I go?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

“Exactly what I thought. I’ll be fine.” He shoved his phone into his pocket and marched up the driveway. I stared after him. How did someone like him survive with such a shitty father? I had to do something, but what? Technically, as a teacher, I was bound to report abusive situations, but when it came to older students like Emery, who was an adult, it was trickier. His voice also mattered, and he didn’t seem to want more trouble.

Fuck.

I got into the car and slowly drove away.

At least he had my number.