I glanced over at Sasha, who was grimacing. “Miss Gurgov?”
“I’m literally going to die right now.”
My lips thinned. “Do you not remember my rule about using literally in place of figuratively?”
“First of all, all languages are living languages and subject to evolution. It’s why ‘irregardless’ is in the dictionary,” she snarked. “Second, I’m pretty sure I mean it. I’m bleeding out. There’s a long tunnel and a white light at the end.” Her hand lifted, and although the shaking in her fingers was exaggerated, it wasn’t entirely false. “And these cramps are, like,soreal.”
“Why didn’t you take the period pass?” I asked her.
“Because I’m not weak,” she shot back.
That sounded like some bullshit, shitty parenting lecture she’d been given, and I wanted to smack the crap out of anyone who taught these young kids that they had to push through pain. I gestured for her to take a seat on the bench, and then I walked over to the snack table to snag one of the Gatorade bottles from the ice.
Before turning, I put my whistle between my teeth and gave two sharp blows. “Cool down on the mats. Ten minutes of light stretches. Then come get your snack, and don’t say Mr. Moyer doesn’t love you.”
“Can I ask you to prom?” one of the kids shouted.
I’d stopped answering that question when it started getting under my skin. I made my way back over to Sasha, who was half curled up over her knees, and offered her the drink. “I brought little sandwich bags, so you can take some fruit with you if you’re not hungry now.”
“No, thanks,” she said, taking the Gatorade. “I don’t want microplastics getting into my body and ruining my immune system.”
“That’s not…” I started, then stopped. The internet was a blessing and a curse. I pointedly said nothing about her drinking from the plastic bottle as I headed over to the office to hang my whistle, and my gaze caught on Mark, the history teacher and baseball coach, who was watching me with a small smirk.
I rolled my eyes and lifted a brow at him as he moved to stand in the office doorway. “How many hate emails will you get today?”
“I went easy on them,” I told him with a sniff. Then promptly sneezed. “Why do you smell like a fourteen-year-old who just discovered his dad’s Old Spice aerosol can?”
Mark flipped me off where the students couldn’t see him. “I have a date.”
My eyes widened. “Seriously? Adatedate?” Mark was freshly divorced, on the prowl, and he’d been trying to get me to join him in his little plan to fuck the city before he settled down again. He didn’t seem to understand that I was navigating single life with an entirely new body. Or, well, mostly new.
Mark scoffed. “No. A fuck-date. This one’s from that new app I showed you a few weeks ago.”
Mark had shown me so damn many it was hard to keep track. “The one where you posted a shot of your ass in your baseball pants?”
He snorted a laugh. “Yeah. You would not believe the number of dick pics I’ve gotten from that.”
I grimaced. That had never been my thing. There was something to be said about casual hookups when I needed to scratch an itch, but I’d never been that kind of guy. I wasn’t interested in a white picket fence and two-point-five kids either, but I wanted something more than just hitting it and quitting it.
I wanted tofeelsomething.
I hadn’t had the best luck before my accident. And now? Dudes used to judge me for my job. I could only imagine what they’d say about my new hardware.
“This guy has like six friends who are on this app,” Mark said. “In case you’re…”
“I’m not. Trust me,” I told him. Maybe when I got desperate enough—and stable enough on my leg that I could hide itunder jeans and let a guy suck my cock through the slit in my boxers. But I was at least two months away from that. And at the moment, I couldn’t imagine trusting anyone with an unrestricted view of my body.
Well, almost anyone.
I most definitely noticed a certain grumpy-as-fuck sergeant who had allowed himself an eyeful in the showers. And that was after helicoptering his dick and balls at me as he hopped to the shower. I’d managed not to laugh, but only because the sight of it was weirdly hot. It made me think about dirty sex. About him kneeling over my chest and smacking me in the lips with it before shoving it down my throat.
God, okay. Maybe Ididneed to get laid.
“You’ve got that look in your eye,” Mark said in a singsong voice.
I shot him a middle finger, and several students behind me chanted, “Oooooh!”
“Stop acting like you’re five and you’ve never seen two grown men tell each other to fuck off,” I shouted back.
