See Me After Class(32)

Romeo: In my defense, he twisted my nipple. I had to go to the bathroom and try to eliminate the pucker of my shirt he made right over my nipple with some water and the hand dryer. It was not pleasant. I got my penance.

Romeo is such an idiot.

I can’t even think about him and Stella, because if he ever did make a move, I’m not sure he’d be able to handle her. She’s a firecracker, and apparently he cracks under the pressure of a nipple twist.

I guess if something does ever happen between them, I have some vital information for Stella so she knows how to get her way. A good nipple tweak and whatever she wants is hers.

I type them back.

Greer: He just left my classroom.

They must have been waiting for me to type back because they immediately respond.

Gunner: Oh shit, was he angry?

Romeo: Did he try to give you a nipple twist?

Greer: Was he angry? What kind of question is that? He’s always angry. And no, he didn’t try to twist my nipple. I think he knows better than to attempt to do something like that.

Then again, would he?

The way he said punishment . . . full of promise, full of dark, twisted thoughts, I wonder if he really would be into something like that. Just from his overall demeanor, I could easily see Arlo being the domineering asshole in bed you read about in books, the damaged one, the one with secrets that make you fall head over heels for him.

Not this girl.

Nope.

No way.

Never going to happen.

He may be handsome, but I’m not that easy.

Gunner: True, you’re feisty. I think he might be afraid of you.

Romeo: Was he afraid of you?

Greer: Uh . . . not necessarily. More confident in his intimidation tactics than anything. Brought his A-game.

Gunner: Oh shit.

Romeo: What did he say?

Greer: Let’s just leave it at there won’t be any more pranks. He’s made his intention clear.

Gunner: Although I haven’t laughed as hard in a long time as I have in the last few weeks, I think that’s smart. Arlo might be quiet, but he’s vengeful, and we’ve both seen it firsthand.

Romeo: Best to keep your distance.

Greer: Sure, that’s easy, with him being my classroom neighbor and the head of my department.

Gunner: Just steer clear and when we start practicing for teacher league, we can make sure we keep you two separated.

Greer: Uh . . . he’s on the teachers’ league?

Romeo: Did we fail to mention that?

Greer: Yep. Also, I’m not doing that league. You cracked. You didn’t hold up your end of the bargain, so I’m not going.

Gunner: Wait a second, we did everything we could to keep your name out of his mouth. If it wasn’t for Keiko, he never would have even sniffed around your classroom.

Romeo: Truth. Keeks was the leak. I just happened to almost lose a nipple because of it.

Gunner: You will be required to show up.

Greer: Really think I’m getting the short end of the bargain.

Romeo: Not our fault your bargaining partner failed to work out the fine print.

Greer: Which reminds me, word on the street is you have something for Stella. That true?

Romeo: Word on the street is you have a thing for Arlo. That true?

Greer: Well . . . guess I’ll be on my way.

Romeo: Smart.

Gunner: I’ll send you the details about Sunday.

Greer: Sunday?

Gunner: You’re killing me. The teachers’ league. Come on, Gibson.

Greer: Okay, yeah, sure. I’ll be there.





“Coach Gibson, can I talk to you?” Blair, my setter, asks.

Practice is over, I’m tired after running sprints with my athletes, and I want to go home and soak in the tiny tub that I can barely fit my tall body in.

I sprint with the girls, because there’s no reason they shouldn’t be able to beat me. If I do beat them, they have to complete two more full-court pyramids before they go home. I’ve beat them once, and shockingly, it’s never happened again.

“Sure, Blair, what’s up?”

Blair Venezuela has been on varsity ever since her freshman year. She’s played club volleyball since middle school and has developed into a key player, essential to our team. She’s small, quick, and has no fear when it comes to diving for the ball. Her sets are always perfect, and she can dig just about any spike from the opposing team. This summer she signed a full-ride scholarship to UCLA, my alma mater, and she couldn’t be more excited. I spoke with my coach back at UCLA and she gave me some things to work on with Blair to prep her for the college level. Like the hard worker she is, Blair has taken everything in her stride and proven to me how she’s become the athlete she is. She’s hardworking and never gives up. And yes, I can see the similarities between us. I was just as driven at her age, and it served me well.

She takes a seat on one of the bleachers while I pack up the rest of my things. “So, I’m having a bit of trouble in one of my classes, and since you teach English, I thought maybe you’d be able to help me.”

“What class?” I ask, my brow furrowed. Blair doesn’t have a hard time in class. Stella and I looked through all of the athletes’ grades to make sure they weren’t just talented on the volleyball court, but also had a handle on their academics, and if they didn’t, they were required to sign up with a tutor. As I found out pretty quickly, as a female in sport, yes, you can get your college paid for, but unless you’re Venus and Serena Williams, you’re not going to be compensated well for your athletic prowess. The grades have to be there. The degree, the education—they matter. Grades are just as important, especially given the chances women have at moving their sport along past college.