Page 13 of Teach Me To Sin

He tents his fingers in front of him, resting his chin on the very tips. “Tell me why it has to be this. Of all the programs you could create, all the unproblematic things you could do, youhaveto coach Olympic swimmers. Make me understand.”

If I took my time putting together all the pieces, going back to the beginning and explaining everything in order from the day my dad first took me swimming to the day Benji showed up like an unlikely miracle, maybe I could do what he’s asking of me. But I won’t bare my soul for a rich douche who manipulates people's words for a living. I’ll never pull my chest open and let him touch the storm inside. I spread my hands, my expression blank. “Because I want to.”

His full lips press together in a flat line. “You’re going to tell me there’s no reason that you went from uncertain to one hundred percent certain in two days, either. You just randomly felt like it, right?”

“I guess so,” I hum, pushing my straw around my half-melted tea.

I hear him huff a quiet laugh. “Look me in the eyes and say it again, like you mean it.”

The guy must be a damn good lawyer. He knows I’m hiding something, and he effortlessly walked me right up to the edge. I can’t meet his stare, I can’t rewind the conversation to a moment where he wasn’t talking me in circles, and I can’t leave without looking weak. My chair scrapes again as I stand up. “One moment.” I can feel his eyes on my back as I push through the front door of the restaurant.

When I’m out of view, I stumble into the toilets and close myself in the only stall before immediately regretting my choice. The stale air smells of piss and Clorox, while Nelly Furtado croonsI’m like a bird, I’ll only fly awayover and over through the overhead speakers like some kind of extremely boring hell. My father’s presence feels so close that when a pair of dress shoes enters and crosses to the urinals, I can’t convince myself it’s not him. My heart rate kicks up, and my empty stomach twists.

Obsessed with a beautiful boy who swims like a dream, until right and wrong are nothing but obstacles to taking what you want.

Just like him.

The random peeing businessman startles as I push out of the stall and splash cold water on my warm face, running wet fingers under my collar until my head clears. Colson is sitting between me and the rest of my day, so it’s time to get this over with. I kiss ass to enough donors and investors that I have a million ways to politelyyeet my way out of the conversation, as Victor would say.

But when I step outside, Colson’s lounging in his chair, examining a phone that looks exactly like mine. As I pat my empty pockets, I realize that I left it on the fucking table in my rush.

“Hey,” I exclaim, loud enough to make the other diners on the patio glance over. Snatching the phone back, I find the screen unlocked and open to my text messages. Tate always warned me that using a pattern for a passcode is too easy for people to watch and copy–I’m sure he’ll enjoy sayingI told you so. “What’s the matter with you?”

For a second, I’m afraid he’s reading my conversation with Maya. A man as smart as him could draw a lot of conclusions from our lifeless back-and-forth over the past few months, followed by the text I sent on the train–Can we talk later?

My heart drops when I see Benji’s name at the top of the screen, scrolled up to yesterday’s messages. I’ve been bombarding him with videos and training ideas, not to force him to sayyes, but because I’m such a natural teacher that I can’t help it. Last night, we stayed up until three in the morning texting about pizza. I spent two hours curled up in bed with just the light of my phone, arguing about toppings with strings of emojis and dramatic accusations until I was shaking with laughter into my pillow. Now Colson’s calculating eyes have pawed through it all and drawn whatever conclusions he wants.

“Who’s Benji, then?” Colson pins me with the same expression he probably has when he catches someone contradicting themselves on the witness stand.

Anger and guilt shiver together through my body, and for some reason I sit down again. The smell of warm artichoke makes me want to puke. “No one. Fucking hell.”

“A boy with no last name and two days of text history is the reason you’re opening your nonprofit up to a huge potential scandal.” He scoffs under his breath. “Do you think you’re going to live out some inspirational sports movie fantasy? And if that doesn’t work out, I guess you can fuck him on the side.”

My head snaps up. For the first time, I see him falter, regret in his eyes. “Say that again.”

He sighs. “I… I misspoke. Disregard that part.”

“The part where I uncontrollably fuck my swimmers because my last name is Simmons?” This time I’m the one who slaps my hand down on the table, and he twitches. “You misspoke because it’s an easy fucking joke and you’re a trashy fucking person. You have the privilege to make fun of something that I will never, ever escape from. That depraved animal of a man took my whole life from me, and you think it’s funny?”

His jaw tightens, and the sun catches breathtakingly in his dark eyes. “What do you want me to say?Nothing can go wrong because you have a tragic backstory? The predatory news outlets that will run your beautiful nonprofit into the ground don’t give a shit about your backstory. Neither will all the kids who don’t have a place to go after school anymore.” His voice drops lower in his chest, quiet enough for only me to hear. “Gray told me about Victor’s case. Your father and the other men involved in the abuse went to prison, but a few of them made it out with no consequences. They have everything to lose if you drag this situation back into the light, and that’s a hell of a lot more dangerous than—”

“Oh, it’s you again.” We both startle at the familiar playful, curious voice. As if our conversation manifested him, Benji hops onto the bottom rung of the patio railing, staring at Colson. Without hearing him speak, I wouldn’t have recognized him in his tailored navy-blue suit, his hair brutally slicked flat. Only his neon pink tie hints at the man I know.

“I– What?” These two pieces of my world were never supposed to touch, and no one seems surprised about it except me. “What’s going on?”

As Benji’s wide, emerald eyes take in the anger on my face, his shoulders hunch a little. “You asked me to come.” He holds up his phone, a new, expensive model so big he can barely get his fingers around it.

I turn and look at my phone tossed haphazardly on the table, then at Colson. “You didn’t.” They both stare at me as I grab it and scroll down to the newest text from my number, sent while I was in the bathroom.Do you work near The Dock Club? I’m downtown and need to talk to you.

Benji answered immediately.Yeah, actually. What’s up?

I’m here now. Come meet me. I hate seeing words next to my name that I didn’t write. Part of me wants to lunge over the table and throttle that fucking man. “What the fuck, Colson?”

Benji swings his legs over the railing and perches on it like he’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt instead of a full suit. As angry as I am, my body lights up at the chance to see him and talk to him for even a second. He’s an utterly addictive mix of cockiness and unbridled joy, with a grin that’s untouchable but so sweet at the same time.

Colson feels it too–his attention is fixed on Benji, half curiosity and half something hungry that makes me hate him even more. Benji just cocks his head at the lawyer with a dry smirk, wheels turning behind his eyes. “You called him a prick, but now you’re here.”

When Colson speaks, I take a second to realize he’s talking to me. “Lawyers are good at finding out the things you don’t want us to know. Since you were being so annoying about it, I did what I needed to get my answer.” Finally, he pries his eyes off the boy and turns them on me. “You act like this is some noble cause, but it looks to me like you found a hot little stray who likes to swim, and you want to keep him.”

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