Page 18 of Topping the Jock
“Why do you want to know?”
“No reason.” Monty focused on the school bus as students stepped off it. “Just didn’t take you for the random sex kinda guy.”
“Well, you don’t know me from Adam,” I said, confused as to why he was so interested in my sex life. “I’m human too, you know. I like sex just like anyone else.”
Monty nodded, seemingly impressed. However, a mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes as he turned his head to me and grinned. “Do you also like to watch it?”
“Watch what?” I asked, not following.
“Watch people have sex.”
And there it is.
Ten years later, and he was finally mentioning the incident in the locker room. I had the urge to run away and hide in my classroom for the rest of the day. Maybe for all eternity. Anything to keep me from having to have that conversation with him.
“I…” I swallowed the tightness in my throat as my cheeks heated. Not even the chill in the morning air could cool them off. I was like a damn furnace, burning with embarrassment but also desire. Because after so many years, I still craved Monty like I’d never craved anyone else. And I loathed myself for it. “We shouldn’t be having this conversation at school. There’s children around for god’s sake.”
“Not close enough for any of them to hear,” Monty said in a matter-of-fact tone, the grin still plastered on his face. “But whatever. It was only a question.”
Yeah, a question with about a million undertones.
“Mr. Beck?” a student named Greg said from a few feet away.
Thank god.An excuse to escape.
“Yes?” I asked, walking toward him.
Greg asked me about the homework assignment that was due on Wednesday. I answered his questions, and he thanked me before going back to his friends. When I looked back, Monty was still looking at me. Smiling.
The asshole.
My prep period was at nine, so after my first class ended, I went to the teachers’ lounge to brew a pot of coffee. Guess who was in there, leaning against the counter and grinning as I came through the door.
“I think you reallyarestalking me,” I said as I walked over to the coffee machine.
“You think too highly of yourself,” Monty responded. “I’m in here for the copying machine. Things are gettin’ kind of serious between him and me. I think he’s the one.”
After pressing Startfor the coffee to brew, I turned to him. He stood in reaching distance of me, his arms crossed over his muscled chest.
“Not sure what’s more disturbing. That you’re dating the copying machine or that you’ve dubbed it ahe.”
“Be jealous all you want. I’m not sharing.”
I chuckled, which I one hundred percent blamed on my coffee-deprived mind. Because I’d never enjoy being around Monty or laugh at anything he said.
“Is this your first year teaching?” I found myself asking.
He arched a brow. Obviously wondering the same as me: Why was I intentionally engaging in conversation with him?
“Nah, I taught school back in Texas,” Monty answered, going over to his machine boyfriend and gathering pages from the printing tray. “I worked there for two years before seeing the job opening here.”
He wouldn’t have come across the job by chance. He would’ve had to be looking for it. Why?
“What made you want to move back?” I asked.
When he didn’t respond right away, I looked over at him. He tapped the pages on the tabletop, lining up the edges, his brow drawn tight. The question seemed simple enough, but the grim set to his lips told me the answer to the question wasn’t nearly as easy.
“I missed the weather,” Monty finally said. “Who wouldn’t? The constant gloomy skies, rainy days, and bone-chilling cold winters gets my motor racing.”
