Page 32 of Life Lessons

After dressing, I go hunting for some food and decide I can only be bothered to down a glass of milk when there’s a knock at the door. My heart lurches whilst my gut drops. I want it to be her as much as I don’t. Not when there’s surveillance cameras and other teachers around, not when it’s going so well. This is stupid, I think, setting down my glass and kicking the fridge closed. I’m a grown-ass man, not a starry-eyed virgin with his first crush. Although that last part might just be true.

Steeling myself, I walk across the room and pull the door open. A body instantly connects with mine, sending us both flying backwards onto the floor. Muscle pins me in place, Sam’s stupid blonde hair falling forward into my eyes. I catch a glimpse of his cocky smile and shove him sideways, scrambling away until he attacks me again.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shout, catching a glimpse of Danny leaning in the doorway. I try to knee Sam in the ribs but my skinny jeans fail me and instead Sam’s thigh connects with my cock. I groan when he refuses to move, wildly throwing punches aimed for his face. It’s Danny who finally drags him off me, although the glint in Sam’s eyes shows he got what he wanted.

“I knew you’d back out.”

“Back out of what?” I growl, cupping my groin and rolling onto my side.

“The teacher triathlon,” Danny answers, holding his foster brother at bay. There’s a hint of humour in his tone too, as he tosses a Willowmead sports kit at me. “You did promise that night at the bar.” Images from that night invade my mind, but none of them include the twat twins here. They’re all centered on a feisty flirt in a scandalously tight dress. My dick jumps at the thought, forcing another groan out of me. Not now buddy. Shoving myself upright with the sports kits scrunched in my fist, I stare down with Danny—the most rational of the two.

“That was last fucking year. Besides, you know I’d agree to anything when I’m blind drunk,” I seethe.

“That’s exactly why we came along. Now get dressed, we have a rally to set up before the parents begin to arrive.” I step closer until my chest bumps Danny’s, giving him my best fuck-you stare. He holds his ground with a hint of a smirk, his brother bouncing from each side of his head in my peripheral vision.

“I don’t like this,” I mumble, waving my hand at Danny as I walk away. Quickly changing, I hate to admit, I prefer the feel of loose satin on my skin and the give in these baggy shorts. But they don’t need to know that. Appearing back in my living area, Danny is fixing me a protein shake, which is a worrying shade of green, whilst Sam is lounging on my sofa. He’s hunting for the remote control when he pulls a lacy black thong with pink bows out from between the cushions. Oh shit.

“Ooh, what do we have—”

I dive across the coffee table, my fist finding Sam’s jaw this time. Grabbing the thong, we tussle and somehow end up on the floor whilst Sam laughs manically. I’m sure he gets us into these situations on purpose. Rolling away with the lingerie held tightly in my grasp, I dash to hide them at the bottom of my wash basket before Sam manages to catch up.

“Oh come on, Jetty, it’s been a while. Let me just have one sniff.”

“Go fuck yourself. Or a woman preferably,” I grunt, shoving him back a step. Sam suddenly stops pushing against me, his expression falling to that of a wounded puppy.

“We have to agree on a woman first,” Sam nudges his head back towards Danny in the kitchen. “And he’s sooooo fussy.”

This time I let Sam lean into me and feel his sigh right down in my bones. Patting him heavily on the back, I wind my arm around his shoulders and lead him back to the kitchen. Whatever the twins get up to in their own time is their business. They aren’t really related, not by blood, and not sharing nearly ruined them once before. Besides, I’m fucking my student and am hardly bothering to cover it up anymore. Who am I to judge?

“I’ll run,” I state, turning the conversation back to the triathlon. I know why drunk me would have agreed. Every year we host a ‘friendly’ bidding system for the parents. They bid on who they think will win. The person with the highest bid on the team that wins the triathlon wins the big exclusive prize. The winning prize means their child will get extra tuition and one-on-one classes in areas that they need help in, to ensure they pass with flying colours. That’s not what I give a shit about. I hate the fact parents can buy a better grade for their child even if they’re thick as pig shit. But what I do care about is the money raised. It pays for the secret scholarships we offer to underprivileged, but fucking smart kids, that has me somehow competing every year. The rest of the teacher’s are likely to break a hip if they didn’t know they were only there for show.

Danny insists on watching me drink his entire kale concoction before allowing me to leave, and the three of us make a beeline for the stadium. I fall two steps back to grab my phone out of my pocket to send Abbie a quick message.

Moody Bastard:Seems like your favourite teacher will be running in the triathlon today. You’d better be cheering from the stands.

Booty Call:Mr Wormald is running?! That’s something I have to see.

I pocket my phone with a smile spread across my face, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Danny’s watchful eyes. I force myself to drop back into a scowl, namely at him. Regardless of who and how, that guy seriously needs to get laid. As soon as possible.

We enter through the locker room, dumping our loose possessions in the office top drawer before heading into the main arena.

There’s a surprising amount of people already present, some preparing and some just wanting to get the best seat in the house. However, the front row and private boxes are saved for the parents who make the biggest ‘contributions’. Which pisses me off every year as half of them don’t even fucking show up, just send a cheque to us and a text to their kid as an apology. I’m the kinda person that thinks the parents who turn up early to help set up and to cheer on their kids, they’re the ones who deserve the best fucking seats. Thornton told me once we have to lick the hand that feeds us, but I said fuck no, just let them have the damn seats. Suppressing a shudder, I move over to the old bastard who is still, unrelentingly, wearing a suit.

“Not joining any of the events today, Herb?” He cocks a grey eyebrow at me but doesn’t bother with an answer. I’m still on thin ice where Thornton is concerned. Hopping over the railing, I drop into a seat clearly labelled with a reserve sign and hook an ankle over my knee. The twins throw themselves into last minute adjustments and swapping the arrangement of the marching band around since Quivering Quinten threw up in his tuba. I manage to snag a box of popcorn from one of the refreshment girls and have myself a good old show before Thornton kicks me out.

Before long, the stands began to fill out with parents, many of whom tried to draw me into a discussion about moving their moron kids into Advanced Math. Taking a seat on the side bench, I see the screen high above the technical box light up with the schedule for today’s events. The teacher’s triathlon will be recorded around campus and shown on the screens just before an hour lunch break, which will be a catered buffet version of hell in the cafeteria. The five main student events are spaced throughout the day, with some specialist events thrown in, such as gymnastics and cheerleading competitions against teams from rival schools. Most outside teams are coming in tomorrow though, which is reserved for the various rugby and football tournaments.

I somehow sense a presence behind me before I feel a tap on my right shoulder. Looking around, there’s no one to be seen but the giggle from my left tells me exactly who would dare to approach and touch me at all. Abbie is walking away to the left with Musgrove linking arms with her. She catches my eye over her shoulder and smiles sweetly, but there’s nothing sweet about the peachy ass swaying in tight lycra that catches my attention.

A twin drops onto the bench either side of me, no doubt trapping me in case I decide to bolt. Not today. I’m feeling strangely optimistic. My adrenaline is pumping and my girl will be cheering me on before sneaking in to congratulate me properly later. With the last of the snobs, I mean parents, taking their seats, the marching band begins their parade to the sound of the Willowmead anthem. Behind them is a long line of today’s competitors, waving proudly to the applauding crowd.

Obviously, the only one I clap for is Abbie. With her hair in a high messy bun and the widest smile on her face, for once she looks like she is beginning to enjoy attending this school. Both her and her best friend are wearing an adapted version of the sports kit, blue and white colouredleggings hug Abbie’s legs, whilst a loose vest with thin straps reveals her black sports bra and array of ink. Thornton will lose his mind when he sees them, but she doesn’t give a shit. She’s hot as fuck and is completely justified in showing them off.

I remain on the bench for most of the morning, staying away from the vultures behind me and only sitting forward when it’s time for Abbie’s first event. The three-legged race. The students line up, Musgrove and Jackson in the middle beside Abbie and Harley. Receiving their individual ropes, Harley bends down to tie his ankle to Abbie’s. On the way back up, his hand trails the length of her leg and I notice her tense as he passes over her thigh from across the stadium. Grinding my teeth, I’m about to jump up from the bench and tackle the little bastard to the ground when a throat is softly cleared behind me.

“Are you okay, Mr Caine? You look tense.” I turn scowling at Harriett standing behind me, flanked by some sort of bodyguard in a suit, wearing sunglasses with an ear piece. Give me a break. I look her up and down, taking in her floral top and jeans before remembering that since Abbie took her partner, Harriett couldn’t compete in today’s games. Hah.

“I’m busy. Whatever it is can wait until Monday morning,” I lie, because I won’t be turning up to class until at least late afternoon. Unsatisfied, Harriett walks around me and stands in the way just as the gun sounds to start the race. I strain to look around her, seeing glimpses before she shifts to completely block my view.

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