Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

HANSLEY

T he dodgeball tournament is going well. It turned out a lot bigger than I anticipated. There are local food trucks here that are donating half of their proceeds at the end of the event. Face painters. My players even got some merch whipped up with a logo on the front and a ‘tour’ on the back, listing everyone’s names who are participating.

Honestly, it’s been remarkable. The overwhelming support we’ve seen from staff is humbling.

One of the last-minute things we did was allow betting. Now, I know that it’s a bit controversial, but it’s controlled. For each game, it’s like a fifty-fifty raffle. You can buy tickets for one team or the other and whichever team wins, those who bid on them are in a lottery for whatever that team brought in as a prize.

The students came up with it and the admin was willing to allow it to see how it went. I think it’s going rather well.

There are three gymnasiums in the common building and then a large grassy field right outside in which we erected nets to keep the balls contained and divided it into two playing fields. This affords us five ‘fields’ to play on. Which is fortunate since we ended up having twenty-two teams.

If we went with bracket style games, then we wouldn’t have needed the five fields, but the students didn’t want to take a chance on just playing one game and then they’re out. So there are two qualifying rounds, then quarterfinals, semi-finals, and then the finals.

There’s already an overwhelming request to keep this a tradition and pass around a trophy for the team who wins every year. So, with part of the funds we raised, we purchased a trophy that we’d have engraved with the sports team who won for the year and the names of their players.

Honestly, I’m in love with how the teams have come together. More often than not, I found my players sitting outside on the bench with other athletes as they talked about the tournament and what things they’d like to see take place.

They grudgingly agreed to put off some things because it was short notice. But they’d already been talking about next year. If I leave no other legacy behind at Rainbow Dorset, I think I’ll be leaving behind a closer athletic department. Not just between coaches as we collaborate, but between the players as well.

My gaze catches on Lemon and my smile falters. Well… maybe not all coaches and players.

Refusing to let myself be discouraged because of him, and because I’ve been avoiding him like the fucking plague, I head out of the gym and cross the hall into another. There’s only one player left on each team. One of my teams and one of the soccer teams.

I stand off to the side as they move around each other. Sizing each other up. Faking throws. Trying to shoot a ball so it heads for their target, but in such a way that it can’t be caught.

It goes back and forth for several minutes, and the crowd in the room is both cheering and taunting. I haven’t been present when one of the games ended, so I stick it out to watch. Seth jumps over a ball and while this kid is in the air, he sends two at either side of the other player.

I’m surprised when that tactic works, and the soccer player dodges one but fumbles when trying to catch the second ball. Which puts him out. The gym cheers and I watch as Seth’s team crowds around him.

Hakeem jumps into his arms and plants a kiss on Seth’s lips. Seth is both startled and elated as he grips Hakeem’s thighs to hold him in place. When Hakeem picks his head up, his eyes meet mine, and he gives me a smug look.

Shaking my head, I leave gym number two and head into the hall. I absently wonder whether one of Seth’s many partners is present today.

“Coach!” I pause and turn as Alka comes toward me with a smile. “This looks like a success.”

I chuckle. “Honestly, I’m floored by the turnout. Not a single field is lacking spectators.”

“Dec and I are betting on whether there are going to be groupies by the semi-finals with people being followed around.”

“I would not be surprised,” I say, laughing.

“Hey, I know we’re in the middle of something here, but it seems to be running smoothly; so think we can talk a minute about the next event?”

“You’re a little too enthusiastic for me,” I tease as we bypass the third gym. Alka isn’t wrong. I made sure that I’d be available for the entire tournament in case someone needed something. It’s been a couple hours now and I’m almost feeling useless as I wander between the different fields and vendors set up.

Alka laughs. “The auction makes me nervous, and I think I just need some reassurance.”

“Sure,” I say and open a door in the hall. There are a couple generic offices that we’ve been granted permission to use. Mostly, I have them used as storage. Extra balls. Back up merch. That kind of thing. I take a seat and Alka sits across from me. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been hearing some pushback about the age restrictions. Mostly, the kids are saying they prefer to date older,” he starts, raising a brow. “The thing is, I can’t say I necessarily blame them. But at the same time, I know how important it is to protect them.”

“Damari mentioned the restriction the other day too, reminding me that he’s almost twenty-two. If he wants to date someone twice his age, that’s his decision,” I say, nodding. “I can’t even say I disagree with that.”

“We’re also closing the pool and limiting it to basically those on campus,” Alka adds. “Which, okay, but these are students. They don’t really have the kind of money we’re hoping to bring in.”

“So we just make it a free-for-all?” I ask, not liking the idea. It gives me an uneasy feeling.

Alka laughed. “When I was eighteen, I dated a thirty-one-year-old for two years. My husband is six years younger than me, and we started dating when he was twenty, arguably outside of the age restrictions we’re trying to put in place. The fact of the matter is people mature differently these days. Some remain twelve-year-olds well into their thirties, while others are more mature than thirty-year-olds by the time they’re ten.”

I nod. “I’m not even going to mention the cougars I’ve been with.”

He laughs again. “Exactly!”

“Okay, let’s reconsider it. But I still feel like we need to put some protections in place.”

“I think we need to put less in place than you feel is necessary. The players aren’t wrong. We refer to them as kids, but they’re all adults. Every last one of them. If they’re comfortable with all age groups, then maybe we need to give them that choice.”

“Ah, I think that’s how we protect them. As part of their cards, we have them mark down the age range they’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, I like that!” he says.

“Okay. We’ll run that by Quin to see if he has any reservations. If he does, we’ll have to take it to the broader group of deans and see what they think.”

“It’s cute you think Quin’s going to care. His man is more than a decade younger than him.”

“Really?” I ask.

He laughs. “Yep. Same age as Declan.”

“I never thought to ask how old Declan is.”

“About fifteen years younger than Quin.”

I stare at him. “Well, fuck.”

Alka grins. “Yep, so I totally get what they’re saying and kind of feel like a hypocrite when almost all of us have a much wider age gap between us and our lovers than we’re trying to allow for the auction.”

“I guess I never thought about it. Jessica is seven years younger than me, but her age isn’t something I think about often. It’s not like it has much bearing in our lives at this point.”

“Yes! The more we talk about it, the more I agree with them.”

“Okay, fair,” I concede. “We’ll run it by Quin next week and see what he thinks.”

“Cool.” Alka gets to his feet. “Thanks for talking it out.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

He opens the door and steps out of the office as I pull out my phone. We set up a website specifically for this event so those who were interested could watch the standings and keep track of who was where. It made more sense than some big board of flyers all over the place. We’re living in the digital age, after all.

I’m quite proud of what these kids put together. The hockey team might have come up with it, but it definitely turned into a group effort. As has the date auction. I love to see them collaborating and learning that, even when you’re on different teams, working together is always better than trying to make everything a competition.

Maybe my thoughts were too loud in the universe. The office door swings open and Lemon steps into the room. I look at him warily, seeing the permanent glower on this man’s face.

He pauses just inside the doorway for a minute before stepping further into the room. My heart immediately jumps, especially when he closes the door.

“You have this rigged,” he says.

I sigh and click off my phone. “Please tell me how I’ve rigged it.”

“You have the most teams, therefore you have higher odds of winning the pool.”

“No,” I counter. “Both lacrosse teams also have four teams. Are they rigging it too?”

He presses his lips together.

“The real problem is that your team—which, mind you, has like ten times the number of players as other sports—is only represented by two teams. My guess, and this is based on whispers as I walked by, is that they weren’t encouraged to join in because they knew you didn’t want them to. Allowing them and encouraging them are very different things, Lemon.”

“We’ve never had a need for fundraising before?—”

“Yes, before I got here,” I interrupt, “and the athletic budget was more fairly distributed between all eight teams.”

“I send players to the NFL,” he says, nearly in a shriek.

“And Alka wins championships, yet somehow, you were still the one with the biggest budget.”

His face turns red as he stares at me. I’ve never seen a man with so much hate directing that ire in my direction. His hands clench, and I’m sure he really wants to slap me right now.

“The biggest part of the pot goes to the team that wins the whole tournament, with second and third place runners up getting smaller chunks. But maybe instead of making your players feel like they need to choose you or participate in something they want to do with their fellow students, you wouldn’t feel like an ass once you got here and saw that literally every other team has nearly their entire team playing—because they want to and were encouraged to.”

“I really hate you,” he growls.

I’m not sure why, but his words make my stomach drop. “I can tell,” I deadpan. “You hate me for existing. That’s fine. It doesn’t change anything I’ve said.”

He storms over to me and I swear he’s going to hit me. His hands are clenched at his sides as he rapidly closes the distance. Is now a good time to notice that he’s wearing this cute as hell skirt with a football jersey? Probably not.

Lemon doesn’t hit me. Instead, he does what he’s done every other time we have a confrontation. He grips my hair and pulls my face to his, slamming our mouths together. I grunt, reaching for him. I’m not entirely sure if I want to push him off or pull him closer.

The decision isn’t mine as he crawls into my lap, straddling me.

My hands aren’t my own as they land on his thighs and glide up his smooth skin to reach behind him and cup his sexy ass cheeks. I yank him closer, feeling his cock against mine as we roll our hips together.

Slipping my fingers under the elastic of his underwear, I dig my nails in. I need to get him closer. Closer. I need to feel him.

One of Lemon’s hands lets my hair go and it slides down my chest, my stomach, and pushes into my pants. I grunt, jerking up into him. His grip is strong around my cock, rubbing me awkwardly in this position.

“Touch me,” he growls.

Eagerly, I do. Cupping his crotch at this weird angle, I feel his chubby. Hard and ready. Leaking. He rocks harshly in my hand as I feel him. Feel his balls with my fingertips and his crown with my thumb.

I’m disoriented when he pulls away from me. My head spins as he climbs out of my lap and drops to his knees in front of me.

Now is the time to stop him. “Lemon?—”

But he already has me out and… I don’t want to stop him. He watches me with challenge in his hate-filled eyes as he pulls my cock out. He’s waiting for me to say something as he deliberately jerks me slowly. Letting me feel his grip around my cock.

I don’t say anything.

With a smirk, Lemon leans over and puts me in his mouth. I groan, long and low, as I let my head drop back and close my eyes. He’s not as quick as he was last time. No. This time he’s slow and thorough, working me to near orgasm before pushing it off again.

It’s fantastic. Amazing. My eyes roll as I slide down the chair to give him a better taste. Better angle. Lemon eats me up, making these quiet, sexy noises that pool in my balls.

There’s no urgency at all. Which is rather risky since there are three boxes of dodgeballs and a bunch of other things that someone could come in looking for. Was there a lock on the door? Did he lock it and I didn’t notice? Too busy being yelled at and resigned to that treatment.

This time, I get out a proper warning before I come. He doesn’t pull away but swallows down everything greedily. I try to watch as I pant through my orgasm. The way his mouth that always spews mean things is stretched around my cock. His eyeliner is running. There’s sweat on his brow.

He’s… breathtaking.

Lemon pulls away but remains where he is for a few minutes as he catches his breath. Then he bolts upright. Predictably, he says nothing as he scrambles for the door and runs out, his head down and hand covering his face.

I sigh, letting my eyes close as I put myself away so no one accidentally walks in with my softening dick laying across my thigh. I suppose that’s one way to be fired, but not how Lemon is determined to make it happen.

Fucking hell.