Chapter Nine 2

Jake stood in the middle of the hall, towering over the sea of kids coming and going for the third lunch period with a long walking stick held over his shoulders like a water carrier. He was essentially on Brute Squad duty, and as soon as the kids filtered out of the halls he could see to his own lunch.

Brandon turned the corner, walking with one eye on his planner and one on the kids in front of him, heading around the circle to the wide hallway that led to the commons, occasionally jostled by the kids on their way to lunch. It didn’t bother him, and he murmured a hello and pushed up his glasses when a few different students greeted him.

Jake turned, recognized the telltale bowed head of his weekend lover, and smirked, his stomach flipping quite inappropriately. He began to ease his way through the thinning crowd of kids, setting his large body in Brandon’s path as the man came toward him with his eyes on his planner.

Brandon glanced to the side when a group of girls pushed past him, hitting his elbow and apologizing as they kept walking. He shook his head and barely came to an abrupt stop just before he walked right into a very recognizable chest. Both Brandon’s brows flew up as he juggled the planner, the apple and the sandwich while chancing a look up at Jake.

Jake grinned at him and winked. “Watch where you’re walkin’, buddy,”

he murmured in a voice low enough that none of the kids would hear him and mistake it for anything but teasing.

Brandon’s lips twitched into a smile, and he realized it was going to be okay. Now that he was with Jake—it was all okay. “Hey, Coach,”

he greeted. “Have a good weekend?”

he asked evenly, but his eyes sparkled. No one would think anything of the two coaches talking in the hall.

“Coulda been better,”

Jake answered with a shrug and a twitch of his lips.

Amusement clear on his face, Brandon just nodded. “Well, that’s too bad,”

he sympathized, nodding to one of the varsity players who walked by. “My weekend was spectacular. Going to lunch?”

he asked, holding up the apple.

“Yeah,”

Jake answered with a huge grin as he reached out and took the apple with a cheeky “Thanks.”

Brandon didn’t even try to swipe it back. “Lounge?”

he asked, turning to continue down the hall.

Jake jerked his head in that direction and made one more sweep of the hallway. Most of the kids had filtered into or out of the lunch rooms, and his duty was now over. He lowered his stick and walked alongside of Brandon, discreetly using it as a sort of cane. “How’s your day been?”

he asked with a smile he couldn’t seem to repress.

“Not too bad for a Monday. I’m only a little behind on my grading,”

Brandon answered. “How’s your knee?”

he asked in a casual tone.

“Hurts like a bitch,”

Jake answered candidly, still smiling in an almost serene way as they walked. “My ankle’s kickin’ it up again, too. The tendon’s tight,”

he said, not realizing that that was more information he ever gave anyone about his aches and pains, even his closest friends.

Brandon made a noncommittal noise. They’d gotten too wrapped up in each other yesterday for Brandon to try a treatment, and Jake had claimed he wasn’t hurting at all. “I’m sorry to hear that,”

he said sincerely as they entered the noisier commons area. “Do they always make you hobble down here for hall duty?”

he ribbed, a smile flitting around the corners of his mouth.

“I’m the only teacher not afraid to beat a kid with a stick,”

Jake joked as he waved his makeshift cane around. “I get it three times a week unless there’s a game,”

he answered more seriously.

“That’s a lot; I only draw it once every two weeks or so,”

Brandon said as he pushed open the door to the lounge.

“Welcome to the world of P.E.,”

Jake responded with a smirk as he followed Brandon into the room. A careful glance showed the room was empty, and Jake placed the end of his stick at the base of the door as soon as it had closed and pulled Brandon to him to give him a quick kiss. “Hi,”

he said as he let Brandon go.

Brandon’s eyes widened as he was quickly kissed and just as quickly released. His features softened as he looked up at Jake. “Hi,”

he replied.

“I don’t like this you leaving at the crack of dawn arrangement,”

Jake growled.

Brandon’s heart skipped a beat. “You don’t?”

“No,”

Jake sulked until he heard a shuffle of feet outside the door. He waited for a moment as they passed and then grinned widely. “You giving me a ride home?”

he asked softly.

“I’d like to,”

Brandon murmured, stepping away from the door and Jake. He immediately felt cooler away from the coach’s body heat.

Jake spared a moment to give Brandon a predatory once over, and then smiled and nodded. He took the stick away from the door and his “Coach”

mask fell back into place. He took a bite of his stolen apple and nodded at the table in the corner. Brandon wandered in that direction after greeting the two teachers who came in. He stopped at the Coke machine for a diet soda while Jake went to the mini-fridge and retrieved his water. They’d actually done this a few times already, to talk baseball, so it wasn’t new. But it felt new.

Jake took another bite of his apple and grinned as he chewed. The door to the lounge opened, but Jake didn’t turn to see who entered.

“Brandon, aren’t you checking your messages? I called you this weekend about the A.P. paperwork,”

Rhonda said, moving to stand at their table, where she flipped her shoulder forward seductively. “Hi Jake,”

she said with a pretty smile. “I don’t think we’ve actually been introduced.”

She turned an expectant look toward Brandon.

The science teacher cleared his throat. “Rhonda, this is Jake Campbell, P.E. teacher and head coach for football, weightlifting and baseball. Jake, this is Rhonda Anderson, chemistry teacher and academic team coach.”

Rhonda stuck out her hand. “Jake,”

she practically gushed. “Brandon has told me so much about you.”

Brandon gave her a clear look of disbelief.

“Has he?”

Jake responded with a glance at Brandon and a barely restrained smirk as he took the woman’s hand. Brandon resisted rolling his eyes.

“Oh yes. And the kids love you as a coach. I’d love to know some of your secrets,”

Rhonda cooed.

Jake smiled as he extracted his hand and cleared his throat. “Then they wouldn’t be secrets,”

he told her, leaning back in his chair, away from the table and from her.

Brandon pressed his lips together as Rhonda’s face fell. “Well, maybe another time. See you, Jake.”

Rhonda turned away and fled, so embarrassed she didn’t even say goodbye to her fellow science teacher.

Jake lowered his head a little, watching the door close out of the corner of his eye. When it shut he rolled his eyes and sighed. Brandon bit his lip and looked at Jake apologetically. Jake just shrugged and leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table and taking another bite of his stolen apple.

Unwrapping an overstuffed roast beef sandwich, Brandon set half on a napkin and nudged it toward the center of the table. “Remember what I said about that girlish figure?”

he murmured before taking a bite.

“Not really,”

Jake answered dubiously, sniffing at the sandwich. “What, you want me to eat that?”

he asked in an incredulous voice.

Brandon frowned at him. “I have seen you eat.”

Jake waved his apple around in evidence of the fact that he was eating and raised an eyebrow. “I ate about three dozen fries in the lunch room, too,”

he snickered before taking another loud bite of the apple.

Brandon turned up his nose. “Girlish figure,”

he muttered. “I can’t eat that shit. I’d gain ten pounds.”

“Well, lucky for me, I ain’t a girl,”

Jake returned with a cheeky shake of his head and a grin. Knowing it was an insult, Brandon picked a grape up and chucked it at Jake, hitting him right on the nose. “Oomph,”

Jake muttered as the grape bounced off his nose and rolled across the floor. “Foul! I call foul!”

he shouted as he stood up and pointed at Brandon.

Brandon cackled and leaned back in his chair, not even thinking about the teachers across the lounge who looked at them in surprise. Although it was becoming more common to see Campbell and Bartlett working together, this was new. Jake reached his walking stick across the table and poked Brandon in the shoulder with it. “Bully,”

he sulked as he sat back down.

Laughing harder, Brandon swung his hand ineffectually at the stick and took another bite of his sandwich. “Wuss,”

he poked, knowing it was anything but true.

Jake gave an outraged little squeak and held his hand to his heart as if he’d been wounded to his very soul. “I’m going back to my office,”

he huffed as he stood up again, poking Brandon with the stick once more and grinning. “Don’t forget to bring your pocket protector to the game,”

he told Brandon as he made his way to the door, noticeably not limping in the presence of the other teachers.

“Funny, Campbell. Ha ha,”

Brandon sniped, but he watched him all the way to the door before going back to his sandwich, sighing silently. Huh. That went well. They’d managed to be together in public without jumping each other; they’d even had normal conversation. Relieved, Brandon turned his mind to the next class period.

Brandon groaned and covered his eyes as he leaned against the dugout fence. Another error. What a nightmare. They were down 9-1, 7 hits to 1, zero errors to 4. The kids were dejected when they jogged in from the field for the last inning. Brandon glanced to Jake. His jaw was visibly grinding and his left eye was twitching.

There wasn’t much a coach could do for a team in a game like this. Jake leaned against the dugout wall in the far corner and stood glaring out at the field, the kids giving him a wide berth.

Watching as the terrible game ended, Brandon urged the players out to walk the line to offer the other team congratulations, and he had quiet words with their senior pitcher, who was about to have a shit fit in the dugout.

After a minute or so of Brandon’s reasoning, the kid nodded and joined the end of the line before mutely returning to pack up his gear.

The assistant coach directed them to the bus immediately, knowing none of them wanted to stick around any longer than they had to.

Brandon stood at the door to the bus as the kids climbed in, and blanched as he saw Misty and a passel of cheerleaders approaching as Jake loaded gear into the bus storage compartments. Shit. This had disaster written all over it.

Jake chucked the bat bag into the compartment and straightened, reaching up to close the heavy door when he saw the woman coming toward him out of the corner of his eye. He growled under his breath and pushed the door down and shoved his shoulder into it to shut it, pretending he didn’t see her.

Brandon swallowed hard. This was likely to be very, very ugly. For Misty, anyway. He jogged over to Jake, speaking loudly enough that the woman approaching could hear. “Hey, Coach, Jeremy needs to talk to you on the bus, some kind of minor meltdown,”

he said, voice deep with concern. For Jake, but hey, it worked. He glanced up to see Misty faltering. At least she had some decency where the kids were concerned.

“Coming,”

Jake grunted in relief, turning his back on Misty as if he had never even noticed her.

Raising a hand to wave at Misty as though he’d just seen her, Brandon took a few seconds to shut the other storage compartments and shoo the last couple of players onto the bus.

He climbed in last and sat in the front seat across from where Jake sat in the driver’s seat.

“Let’s get out of here before she decides to climb on and ride back with us,”

he muttered.

Jake closed the bus doors quickly and then glanced over his shoulder at Brandon. “We got a count?” he asked.

Brandon nodded, still counting caps back through the bus. “Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one. We’re good, Jake,”

he answered in a low tone.

Jake put the idling bus in gear and nodded silently, driving out of the parking lot without saying another word.

The kids all knew they were going to get an earful at some point.

The bus was sedate, almost silent, and when the kids did speak, they did so in hushed tones. Finally when the bus was on the highway, Jake glanced over his shoulder at Brandon and muttered, “Thanks for that back there.”

“You didn’t need to deal with her shit after this afternoon,”

Brandon answered, sitting on the edge of the front seat closest to Jake, voice raised just enough to be heard over the road noise.

“It always worries me,”

Jake murmured in return, his eyes still on the road, “when she’s followed by the girls. It usually means she’s come up with something official-sounding. Last time it was a date auction to raise money.”

Brandon blinked. “A date auction? Like a date with a student ?”

he asked in disbelief.

“Students bidding on students, community members bidding on teachers.”

Jake practically shivered as he spoke.

Stunned, Brandon stared at Jake’s profile. “How did I miss this? When was it?”

“It never happened. Apparently I wasn’t the only one horrified by the prospect,”

Jake answered wryly.

Relaxing in relief, Brandon shook his head. “Students bidding on students. Yeah, that would have been a wonderful idea. Why not do a slave auction instead?”

he asked cynically, remembering such a fraternity function in college.

Jake just shook his head and pulled his right hand off the big steering wheel of the bus, resting it in his lap as he drove. It was days like this that he began to wonder if maybe quitting would do him more good than sticking with it.

Sitting back again, Brandon shifted to lean against the window so he could look at Jake without turning his head.

He looked tired and upset, and it was no real surprise.

Sighing, Brandon rubbed his eyes with one hand.

He had more grading to do tonight, and a couple of tests to make, and he really, really needed to get a run in after skipping the last couple of days.

He glanced out the window.

Maybe another half hour and they’d be back at the school. He could be home by 10 p.m., go for a run, make the tests and do a little grading, crash about 2. He could do the rest of the grading during tutoring in the morning.

Unless he didn’t sleep at all, too busy thinking about Jake.

Brandon pulled the Jetta into Jake’s driveway.

It was 9:10, about what he’d figured, and he had no idea what to say.

On one hand, he certainly wanted to stay.

He should just come out and ask, but after the depressing tone of the last few hours, he found he couldn’t be that bold. So he turned to look at Jake, whose face was shrouded in darkness. “Get some rest,”

he murmured. “We’ll pick the game apart tomorrow.”

Jake turned his head just slightly, not quite looking at Brandon, but not looking away either as he sat in the passenger seat.

Well, that was a pretty good indication that Brandon wasn’t planning on staying the night, he thought.

He gave a little nod and reached for the door handle, dreading when opening the door would turn the overhead light on.

He wanted to lean over and kiss Jake, and he even reached out, but Brandon stopped his hand and dropped it to the gear shift. Jake wasn’t shy. Surely if he wanted him to stay, he would say something.

Jake hesitated a moment, closing his eyes and telling himself to just ask Brandon to stay.

He hurt all over, and he was tried and cranky and pretty damn miserable, and all he wanted was someone warm to hold him tonight.

He gave a glance back and saw Brandon’s hand on the gear shift, waiting for him to get out of the car so he could head home.

Jake sighed to himself and gave another little nod. “Thanks for the ride,”

he said before opening the door and climbing out of the car gingerly. “Have a good night,”

he added, leaning over to grab his bag, then closed the door before Brandon could see how torn he was over letting him go home alone.

Brandon almost blurted out something, anything, to stop him, but then Jake was walking away from the car and climbing up the steps to the house.

Waiting until he saw Jake was inside, Brandon backed the car out and started driving, on autopilot the whole way home as the scene played over and over in his head.

When he got there and stopped in the driveway, he lowered his head to the steering wheel and thwapped it a couple times.

He got inside with his backpack and papers, tossed them all on the table and looked right at the phone.

Right at it.

Resisting, he went to the laundry room, stripped down and pulled on running shorts and a T-shirt.

And he looked at the phone. He headed back to the bedroom for his trainers and stopped dead in his tracks. The bed sheets were still a mess from their romp yesterday.

Brandon couldn’t resist any longer. He snatched up the cordless and dialed Jake’s number. As the line buzzed, he berated himself for acting like a middle school girl, but he couldn’t bring himself to hang up.

The phone rang just as Jake stepped out of the shower. He’d already done his nightly pills and beer regimen, and the shower was just hot enough to make him languid and sleepy. He took his time getting to the phone, a towel slung over his shoulder as he dripped on the floor.

“Hello?”

he answered sedately, not even remembering to check the caller ID first.

Brandon’s eyes immediately fell closed as arousal ripped through him. He’d last heard that tone in Jake’s bed, in Jake’s arms, before they’d fallen asleep last night. “Hey,”

he rasped.

Jake blinked in surprise. “Brandon?”

he asked in confusion, looking at his wrist to see what time it was and belatedly realizing he didn’t have a watch on. Had he even had time to get home? “Are you okay?”

he asked worriedly.

No. No, I’m not. Not when I’m here and you’re there . “Yeah, I’m okay. I just wanted to, ah, check and see if your knee was okay.”

Brandon winced. What a stupid thing to say. He turned and pushed his face against the wall.

Jake blinked stupidly again, frowning at the odd tone of Brandon’s voice but not able to figure out quite what was wrong with it. “Uh,”

he answered as soon as he realized that he needed to say something, “it’s doing about the same as usual.”

“Right,”

Brandon answered, then he caught himself. “I mean, sorry about that. I guess you’ve taken the painkillers and all.”

He was standing there shuffling in his own bedroom. God. Could he get any more pathetic? He’d been just fine when they were together.

“Yeah,”

Jake answered guiltily, blushing a bit as he drip-dried beside the bed. He’d never felt guilty for his nightly painkiller regimen before; why should he now?

“Okay,”

Brandon said, at a loss for what to say but unwilling to give up the tenuous connection over the dead air.

Jake waited, frowning harder now and wishing he had just kicked himself into asking Brandon to stay. Even if Brandon hadn’t wanted to, he probably would have, right? And if he was calling now, maybe he hadn’t wanted to go home after all. “You should’ve stayed,”

he blurted.

Brandon’s stomach rolled and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I wanted to,”

he admitted.

Jake was silent, the missed opportunity curling in his chest painfully. “We really need to work on our communication skills,”

he finally said flatly.

“I agree,”

Brandon said, voice strained. He turned and leaned against the wall, sliding down until he squatted, face turned down to the floor. “I just haven’t got the greatest confidence, I guess,”

he murmured.

“Me either,”

Jake muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his still wet body. He sighed heavily and pulled the towel off his shoulder to begin patting at his skin. “Sorta stupid considering what we did all weekend, huh?”

Brandon groaned. “As much as I appreciate the thought, don’t remind me, okay?”

He sighed. “I thought about you all the way home, how I should have said something, how I should have at least kissed you good night.”

Jake’s lips twitched, and he lowered his head. Telephones made some people say things they wouldn’t normally say. For Jake, though, he was probably less likely to say what he wanted if he was saying it to a mouthpiece. He bit his lip, sliding his toe across the floor as he tried to force his tongue to form a response. “You should have,”

he eventually replied.

Fuck. Brandon wanted to get right back into the damn car and drive there right the hell now. “I’ll keep that in mind,”

he said in a hoarse voice. He was never going to sleep now. Not without a massive jerk-off first.

Jake smiled slightly at the sound of Brandon’s voice. “I thought about you until the water went cold,”

he said on impulse, blushing even as he spoke.

“Jesus Christ, Jake!”

The voice that rasped was obviously strained. “I’m not going to be able to run with my cock this damn hard.”

Jake’s lips twitched into another smile, and he licked his lips. He really enjoyed the idea that just a phone call had excited Brandon. “You should have thought ahead,”

he scolded, his voice just a bit lower than normal.

Brandon groaned audibly. “The wrong head is doing all the thinking,”

he muttered. “But I’m still glad I called.”

“Me, too,”

Jake responded as he dropped his towel and shivered involuntarily. “You really going running?”

he asked, not even sure why he asked. What, did he want Brandon to stay on the phone with him until he fell asleep? Jesus.

Sighing, Brandon sank the rest of the way to the floor. He wanted to lie. He didn’t want to expose himself so much. But “I’d rather stay here and talk to you”

was what came out.

Jake shivered again as he sat on the edge of the bed. He shook slightly now, but he wasn’t certain exactly why. He considered asking if Brandon was willing to drive back to his house and stay there. He had to make the drive in the morning anyway, right? But he didn’t dare admit how selfish he really was. “I’m not sure how long I’ll last,”

he murmured instead, rubbing his eyes as he said it. “I’d feel guilty for keeping you.”

Brandon felt flushed all over. “You sound really tired. I’m going to go for a short run, then grade some papers,”

he said, though he felt rather resigned about it. Maybe he’d just curl up in the sheets and see if he could still catch Jake’s scent. “Get some sleep, okay?”

“My pillows still smell like you,”

Jake told Brandon with a small smile. “Should be easy to sleep.”

Aw. Hell. “Bastard,”

Brandon muttered. “Good night.”

“Night, Brandon,”

Jake murmured, his knee bouncing nervously. “I’m glad you called,”

he added with a tinge of relief.

“Me too,”

Brandon said, then forced himself to pull the phone away from his ear and push the button to end the call. He clutched the cordless between his hands and pressed it to his forehead, feeling more alone than ever. Dragging himself up, he looked at the bed. Within a few seconds’ time he had decided, dropping the phone and crawling into the sheets to curl up there and just remember and dream.

Jake heard the line go dead and sighed heavily as he looked down at the receiver and shut it off. There was something about Brandon’s voice that always left him feeling empty when it was no longer there.