Page 18 of Without Bound
She arches a brow and purses her lips. “Exactly. Too old for you. And third, he’s faculty at the school we attend. I’m pretty sure there’s a rule about teacher-student relationships.”
“Okay. So now it’s time for my rebuttal. One,” I tell her, holding up a finger. “My uncle loves me like I’m his kid. He’ll get over whatever hurt feelings he may have. I mean, he trusts Bishop like a brother and says he’s one of the best guys he knows. What better person to trust your beloved and favorite niece to?”
Keyara gathers up her long braids and begins twisting them into a giant bun on top of her head.
“Two, age is so irrelevant. The world has changed and people are much more accepting of May-December romances. Practically every romance movie and book has the age gap theme running heavy through it. No one pays any mind to that.”
“We’ll see about that,” she mutters and I wave her off.
“And three, Bishop is not my teacher. He is employed by the university, yes, but he’s in the athletic department. I do not receive a grade from him, and I am not a part of the baseball program. Therefore, no one can assume I am receiving special treatment.”
Keyara wraps a scrunchie around her big bun and drops her hands into her lap. “I’m guessing there will be no talking you out of your delu-lu, so as your best friend I have no other choice but to support and protect you…it’s a law.”
I laugh and repeat, “It’s totally a law.”
We spend the rest of the night, and into the early hours of the morning, talking and laughing and living up to those new best friend titles.
7
Bishop
The sun barely peaks above the horizon as I step out of my truck and walk over to the practice facility where I’m set to meet my team in twenty minutes.
Classes started two days ago and being the nice and awesome coach that I am, I gave them all off in order to get their schedules sorted. But break is over and it’s time for them to get their asses back to practice and workouts.
I walk through the facility that is so quiet that the squeak of my sneakers sounds like an amplifier is attached to it. I drop my bag and coffee on my desk and walk over to the window to flip open the blinds that lookout into the hallway leading to the team clubhouse.
We’re six months away from the start of baseball season but my guys know that workout days never end, and all of my returning players are always up and in the gym early and without complaints.
I pull out my laptop and fire it up, waiting for it to spark to life, so I can check my emails and any other notifications I’ve received since last night. My screen lights up just as I hear the loud clunk of a door shutting, letting me know that the first guys are making their way in.
I watch as they pass by the window and suddenly my captains are in my doorway.
“Hey coach,” my third baseman says, while my shortstop says, “What up, big man?”
I smile at their very different greetings. “Good morning. Y’all have a good first couple of days of classes?”
“Eh. You know. The usual. Syllabus handout, contact and office hours, and then spend the rest of the time checking out the new girls.”
“This asshole lucked out and ended up in a class with a bunch of hot freshmen. I don’t know how he managed that one.” My shortstop slaps the third baseman in the stomach hard enough that he makes a painful sound.
“I’m taking creative writing. It just so happens that it’s a popular class with the ladies.” He shrugs and I shake my head, thinking back to my college days and how I judged classes based on popularity amongst the women.
“Don’t forget to be respectful to the ladies. I’d hate to bench your ass for being a douche. Now go get ready. You two are leading the workout.”
They give me a “yes sir” then head off to their lockers to drop their bags and get ready to greet the rest of the team. The guys begin filtering in minutes later, and before too long, the locker room is bursting with players. The voices get lost in the many conversations that are being had.
I walk in, edging closer to my team captains, and hear one of them say, “Fuck dude. She was so hot. Small little shorts that barely covered that apple bottom. Her tits,” he rolls his eyes and bites his fist. “She had on this little purple shirt and I just wanted to bury my face in them.”
“Did you get her name?” another asks.
“It was kind of hard to hear with people talking but I think it’s like Inez or Anez. It won’t be hard to find her because she’s the hottest damn thing on campus. Just look for a little waist, light brown skin and a shit ton of curly black hair.”
My body tenses because I swear that sounds just like Anais.Perfect body, all that damn hair, the similarity in name. I feel my blood start to boil thinking of any of these assholes with their hands on her. I may not be able to have her, but I’ll be damned if I let one of them take her.
“Why are you still gossiping like old women? Get your asses in that gym before you’re running laps.” My voice booms through the locker room and the team falls silent.
I don’t normally yell at my team unless we’re in game time or their behavior calls for it, but my gut tells me they were definitely talking about Anais and it pisses me off. More than it should.
