Page 2 of Shattered

“Lanson was just leaving.” I deadpan, keeping my stare fixed on him with a bored expression. I remain exposed, like the day I was born, but I quickly conceal my now limp and sensitive dick with the towel in my hand.

“Lanson?” His eyebrows raise to his hairline as he stares at me in utter shock and what seems like amazement. Obviously, he’s happy. I remembered his name.

“It’s Lance.” He sighs.

Oh. “That’s what I said,” I huff. “Time to get going, places to be, people to see,” I wince while scratching the back of my head. Lanson blushes and tries to regain his composure. Without making a move, Kal keeps his eyes fixed on Lanson. Both of us remain motionless, fixated on him, urging him to hurry faster. Kal doesn’t give a shit. The guy has seen me in worse positions than this. He has had to bathe me while I laid in my own vomit; the guy has more or less saved my life more times than I can count, so this is nothing. Lanson, or was it Lance? I forgot already which one it was, takes his glasses from the side table and puts them on. My jaw tightens as I observe his nerdy self,grabbing his jacket and glancing at Kal and then me. It’s the fucking nerdy glasses appearance that does it for me with him. The first time I saw him in the halls, I noticed his wide eyes fixed on me, drinking me in, unaware that I was watching him the entire time. When our eyes finally met, his cheeks turned red, and he quickly snaps his head away, almost as if he might hurt himself with the sudden movement. Later, I realized we shared some classes. The next day, I made a point to keep my stare pinned on him. I could tell I made him nervous, the way he squirmed on his chair, but his eyes always found mine. That one look was what had me dragging him into the toilets after class and pushing him to his knees. Watching my dick feed into his mouth while he looked up at me through those black-rimmed glasses, with his big innocent brown eyes drowning in fear and desire, had me emptying my load down his throat embarrassingly quickly. I acknowledge him with a nod as his lips tighten and his shoulders slightly slump. Despite knowing this move, I'm confused why he consistently appears disappointed. While nearing Kal, who has shifted to the side, he suddenly comes to a stop, his stare still locked on the ground. Then, his eyes lift gradually to meet mine. He tilts his head slightly, furrowing his brows in confusion. I respond with a questioning stare, raising one eyebrow.

“What’s Quake?” he questions, picking up on my nickname on the ice. Chuckling, Kal responds to him, saying, “Bray is Quake,” before I can intervene and tell him not to worry and to leave.

Kal leans in close to Lanson's ear and whispers, “Brayden Anders is an earthquake on the ice, shattering any opponent he faces.” Lanson springs into the air and turns to face Kal, who observes, “It seems like he’s good at shattering people off the ice too.” Kal's wide grin is clear as he laughs, playfully smacking Lanson on the ass. Lanson yelps and hastily makes his way out of my dorm, not bothering to glance back.

“Bye, Lanson!” I call out, and Kal and Lanson both shout in unison, “It's Lance!”

Rolling my eyes, I toss my towel at Kal. He does come out with some weird shit.

“Sorry, sweetness, you’re not shattering this heart; my ass doesn’t take dick,” he teases in a girlie voice as he throws my towel back.

“Hurry and clean that snake of yours. We got a party to get to.” Sporting a menacing smile, he moves his eyebrows up and down.

“Now you’re talking,” I grin, spinning on my heels and heading for the shower. It appears that my night isn't coming to an end just yet, and there's a slight chance I'll recapture that feeling of euphoria before it's over.

Chapter two

Bohdi

Lansing, MI

October

I pause to soak in the moment, taking a deep inhale as I observe the classroom. I’m here. My fresh start is finally here. I moved to Lansing in February, but before starting my new job, I had to get myself in the right mindset. From my new desk, I see the empty seats waiting to be filled by students. I hoped for a sign this morning that would make me nervous and confirm that this was the right choice, but there was nothing. No nervousness, no excitement, no eagerness. Just a consistent numbness for the past fourteen months. Rolling my shoulders and craning my neck, I wait for the satisfying crack with each movement.You’ve got this. Finally, the fresh start you've been longing for. It’s here now. Own it. Live in it.As I contemplate my inner thoughts, I am interrupted by the sound of distant voices filtering into the classroom, as students hurriedly take their seats and steal glances at me. The majority of them go up high, but a small number walk in the front row. I rise from my desk and positionmyself in front of it. Leaning back on my desk, I cross my arms and legs. I don't have to pretend or put on a false display. I am who I am; I’m relaxed and easygoing. Respect me and I'll respect you in return. I aim to create an environment where my students feel free to ask me questions without thinking I'm uptight. I carefully observe every student that enters my classroom. There are approximately thirty, so it's not a large number. I was informed that I might receive additional students as the term progresses, but to be honest, I'm out of practice and thirty is already more than sufficient. I quickly survey the students. Girls occupy the front row while the guys opt for seats in the back of the classroom.

“Good morning, all. Allow me to introduce myself as your new marketing management teacher, Mr. Stiles.” I ensure my gaze flickers across as many students as I can. The wide-eyed, grinning faces in the front row slightly distract me, but I ignore it. Denny informed me that the female students would constantly seek my attention when I accepted this job. Being both the hockey coach and relatively young, he had to endure it for some time. I expected this, but I didn't think it would happen so soon.

“Hey, professor,” a few girls in the front row say while fluttering their eyelashes. I maintain a tight-lipped smile while nervously rubbing the back of my neck.

“That’s another thing. I would appreciate it if you could refrain from calling me professor.” I extended my hands in front of me. “I admit, it's the norm, but it makes me feel old and I despise it,” I chuckle, as a few students, both male and female, join in laughter.

“What do we call you then?” someone in the front row says.

“Mr. Stiles or Sir will be fine.” I clap my hands together, eager to continue the class.

“I understand it's a typical icebreaker, but I'd like everyone to briefly share their name. Will I remember? It's unlikely, but I'll give it a shot, anyway.” This leads to more laughter from the students. I direct attention toward the girl on the far left at the front as she introduces herself, along with the following individuals. I attempt to remember all the names, but I must confess, they all blend together. I noticed a guy ignoring his turn, too engrossed in his phone, when the last person finished.

“You with the beanie,” I say. Several individuals in the front face backward, and the guy briefly lifts his gaze away from his phone, stares directly at me, then returns his attention to his device.There’s always fucking one.

“Introduce yourself,” I simply say. He completely ignores me, and the guy next to him, who I believe goes by Kal, nudges him. Beanie boy casts a sidelong glance at his friend and then shifts his focus toward me.

“Brayden,” he murmurs, before diverting his attention back to his phone. I’m not going to call my students out on the first day, but I will be if he continues to act like this going forward. I make a mental note and proceed with the class. I distribute the Syllabus to the front row and tell everyone to come and grab a copy. A few individuals from the back walk forward to collect their paper, but I realize Brayden is not among them. He sits slouched in his chair, staring into space. Another student, who I believe was called Trayton, walks back to his seat on the other side of Brayden and smacks the syllabus playfully in Brayden’s face. It’s then I see a small smirk, but only for a moment before he’s back to looking straight faced and moody. I can already tell that he's going to cause problems. Unfortunately for him, he will discover that I don't tolerate disrespect, especially from a student.

“OK, in marketing management, I will provide you with an all-round understanding of marketing, studying key areasincluding consumer behavior, marketing communications and global markets. You will study all aspects of Market research and gain a practical understanding of how marketing and advertising work in an organizational context.” I pause. Happy with how I put that across. I try to maintain eye contact with different students. Some seem keenly interested; some appear as if they’re ready to go to sleep. Marketing is known for being tedious to learn, but once you begin experimenting with it, you'll uncover a wealth of intriguing concepts. “To prevent putting you to sleep or overwhelming you, let's start with the basics and gradually explore more. What is the purpose of marketing and why is it necessary?” I continue by elaborating on everything while quickly going through the slides I created during my break. Surprisingly, the class concludes faster than I thought, and shortly after, students begin to leave the classroom.

“Hey, Brayden,” I shout. He stops momentarily while walking down the steps, about to leave. Snapping his head up at me, his jaw tightens with a flicker of tension. “Can you hold back a minute?” I remark as I close the slide displayed on the screen.

His voice, dripping with sarcasm, floats through the room as he asks, “Why?” I raise my eyebrows in surprise as I glance up from my laptop.

I force the words out, “Because I asked,” trying my best to suppress my temper. One aspect of being a teacher is requiring patience, which unfortunately I lack. His friend pats him on the back, lowers his head, and leaves the classroom. I move closer to him, but he barely acknowledges my presence. I clear my throat and his gaze gradually meets mine. My breath hitches and a burning sensation sears through my chest. Holding my stare, he watches as my eyes flickers between his. The eyes transform from crystal blue to thin slits. His eyes are just like- so blue, they are—No. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and regain myself. Fuck. “Don’t really feel like talking, huh?” I assess him, optingto move nearer to him. At that moment, I observed that one of his eyes was surrounded by darkness. A black eye. He dropped himself into the chair near the front, casually kicking his leg. He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, seemingly indifferent to this class or me, and there’s one thing I won’t stand for: disrespect. The moment I’m about to tell him, the classroom door suddenly opens.

“How did my boy’s first cla—” I swing my attention to the door; Denny saunters in, clearly thinking I’m on my own, but then sees Brayden.

---