Page 1 of B is for Baby Me (Classes in Kink #1)

JR

Too fast. Can’t breathe.

My eyes dart to the ticking bomb clock and back to the blank test page. A trickle of sweat rolls down my neck as I search for answers. It’s almost as bad as that time when…

“Focus, JR—head in the game!” Blake drags me into the huddle and quickly calls out the play. The center snaps the bomb ball, and a wall of muscle charges at me. Defend the quarterback. Hold the line. Protect the Gladiators’ hopes for the playoffs... My coach’s hopes... The crowd’s hopes… They all rush at me.

Rough hands pound my back as cheers bounce off the tiled walls. The steamy air is hard to breathe. I gaze blindly into my locker, careful not to look at my sweaty, half-naked teammates. Tyrell laughs as he whips off his towel, snapping it at my bare ass. I steal a glance at his muscular chest. Lean torso. Lusciously long...

Fingernails dig into my skin as a heavy beat thumps against my skull. Dancing couples block me in every direction. I can’t get away. My buddies move in closer, grinning at the bomb blonde clutching my arm. She squeezes up against me. They’re all pressing in on me.

“It’s what you want,” Dad insists. “It’s your dream.” Not everyone gets a shot at the NFL, but I will—my father’s made sure of it. All of those countless hours spent coaching me, sacrificing for me... Football kept us both going after Mom died. “There’ll be time later for grad school,” Dad pleads. “Plenty of time.”

Time.

Time.

My eyes jerk back to the clock—it’s still ticking. I stare down at the test page—it’s still blank. So many questions. No right answers.

I can’t fail.

I’m going to fail... something or someone. Maybe everything. Everyone .

I can’t breathe.

I can’t brEATHE.

I CAN’T brEATHE.

The bomb pencil drops to the desk. I race from the classroom before I explode.