Page 11 of B is for Baby Me (Classes in Kink #1)

Chapter ten

Huddling Up

JR

“Junior, are we still on for Roscoe’s tomorrow?” Dad asks as soon as I pick up the phone. “There’s a bacon double cheeseburger with my name on it.”

That’s my old man for you—he never met a meat-group he didn’t like. “Dad, you’re not supposed to eat like that. The restaurant serves vegetables, y’know. Ever heard of ’em?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll have a side salad instead of fries,” he says. “So, are we meeting at noon? I want to get a good seat before kickoff.”

“Sounds great, Pops. The guys are coming, too.” As well as my professor. It’s time to start playing ‘the long game’, as Fletcher calls it. Should I tell Dad that my teacher will be there or act surprised when he shows up?

My father smacks his lips. “I’ll order a Gladiator-sized platter of hot wings to share with the boys.”

Here we go again. “Didn’t your doctor tell you to watch your diet? I don’t think fried chicken drenched in buffalo sauce is what he had in mind.”

“I’ll have some celery to go with it, Georgey-boy. So, are we backing the Broncos or what? Their defensive line is unstoppable.” He sounds like he’s ramping up to talk some serious ball. I’d better make a play while I can.

“Um… Broncos all the way. So, someone else may stop by tomorrow... one of my teachers.” I gotta play it cool.

“Is he a big sports fan? Does he want my autograph?” Dad jokes.

I give a forced laugh. “The professor just mentioned it in passing, that’s all. He said he might hang out for a while, not for any reason or anything.” Yep, keeping it cool—like August in Alabama.

“Is everything OK at school, kid?” My father’s carefree voice becomes worried. “The pressure’s not getting to you, is it? College ball takes a lot of effort—it can be hard to keep up your grades.”

Way to go, JR. More stress is just what Dad needs. “School’s fine, Pops. Everything’s great. So, about those Broncos...”

He doesn’t take the bait. “Are you dating anyone this semester? That might help you blow off some steam. Blake said a girl named Rachel has her eye on you.”

Uh oh. “I gotta go. I just remembered I have a Calculus assignment, so I gotta go... calculate something.” I’m so cool, they could name a circle of hell after me.

Dad snorts into the phone. “OK, I’ll quit buggin’ ya. See ya tomorrow, Georgey-boy.”

“Are you finished with your homework?” A voice calls from the hallway.

I yelp, snapping my laptop shut and covering my crotch with a pillow. “Josh, what are you doing home? Weren’t you supposed to help Fletcher in the lab?”

My roommate slumps into my room and sits on the edge of my bed. “I asked the professor how I could assist him, and he told me to ‘go win a Darwin Award’ . Anyway, I heard you tell your father that you have a Calculus assignment. Can I help you with it?”

“Um…” The only studying I’d been planning to do involves porn and a lesson on BJs. “No, that’s OK. I was just gonna watch a movie... while I calculate the friction on my... slope.”

Josh’s eyes brighten. “Is the movie about physics? Can I watch it with you?”

“Um… don’t you have any of your own assignments that you need to do?” The kid’s pulling a double major. He’s gotta have some homework, right?

The teenager lets out a bored-sounding sigh. “I’ve completed all of the fun ones. I suppose I could work on my conceptual aerospace vehicular designs, but I’m not in the mood. How about a game? Would you teach me how to play football? Or Stellaris ?”

My slope curves downward as my afternoon of uninterrupted porn turns into a game of Twenty Questions. This was not the tangent I was hoping to get off on. Well, I guess if you can’t beat ’em... “Sure, buddy. Give me a minute, and we’ll figure out something to do. OK?”

Josh jumps off the bed. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready!”

An hour later…

I groan as Josh blows the last of my spaceships out of the sky. Again . “Dude, are you sure you’ve never played this video game before?”

He giggles. “Don’t cry, little boy, just because I’m spanking you.”

Snort. “Nice smack-talk, buddy.”

Josh gives me a grin and a quick fist-bump while he continues his quest for universal domination. “When will the food be here?”

A knock at the door answers his question. I toss my controller on the couch as I scramble to accept the delivery. Thank god for takeout. If it wasn’t for GrubHub, Josh and I would both starve to death. As I bring the bags of Thai food to the coffee table, my roommate abandons the video game in favor of Tofu Pad Kee Mao.

“Thank god, I’m starving.” He attacks the food, his stomach rumbling.

I bite into an egg roll, then let out a moan. “You’d think after living together for two years, one of us would have learned how to cook.”

Josh swallows a mouthful. “Too bad your father can’t cook, either—then you could go home for dinner. It still seems strange to me that you live on campus when your real home is just across town.”

“Trust me, one of the best parts of my football scholarship is getting free room and board. I need a little elbow room, know what I mean?” I stuff the second half of the egg roll into my mouth.

“I understand the need for space.” He sighs. “Sometimes even seven thousand miles isn’t enough.”

Uh oh. “Is your father still pressuring you to change graduate programs?”

“My father and I have come to a compromise,” Josh says, though he doesn’t look too happy about it. “But now my mother is starting to ask if I’m dating anyone. You’re lucky to be an American, JR. You can do what you want, date who you want, be who you want. I dream of having such freedom.”

If he only knew. “Yeah, except everyone expects me to act a certain way. It’s hard keeping up the image sometimes, y’know?”

“What image?” he asks. “You wouldn’t pretend to be someone you’re not.”

I shrug a shoulder. “We’ve all got something to hide, right?”

“You’re hiding things?” His eyes light up. “What sort of things are you hiding, JR? I’m good at keeping secrets, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jeez, how do I get myself into these situations? “Same here—you can talk to me about anything.”

“Really? Anything?” Josh sets down his food. “OK! Did you know that many people in my culture believe you shouldn’t masturbate before you get married? But then, what’s the point? Why would you need to masturbate if you already have a partner? Unless you can masturbate with your partner… I’ve never considered this possibility. I think I’d like to masturbate with someone. Have you ever masturbated with anyone, JR?”

Shit. That’s not what I meant. “Um… good talk, buddy. But I’ve gotta go, um... do my Calculus now.” I pick up my container of Pad Thai, backing out of the room.

He stands up to follow me. “Do you need a hand?” he offers.

“Nope, I got it. Thanks.” God knows I’ve had plenty of practice math-urbating on my own.

I fidget at a table in the back of the sports bar, keeping a sharp eye on the front door. Fletcher could be here at any moment. I’m so nervous, you’d think I was introducing my prom date to my dad.

“Where’s J-Bob? Isn’t he coming today?” My father pops a french fry into his mouth.

So much for the side salad. “Josh is finishing up an engineering assignment. He’ll meet us here in a little while.”

“SR!” Tyrell shouts across the crowded bar. “How’s it goin’, Team Dad?”

“Tyrell-osaurus!” Dad stands up, slapping my teammate on the back. “What are they feeding you boys at school, Miracle Gro?”

“I’ve added an inch to my arms since last season.” The linebacker flexes a bicep. “So, are we backing the Broncos today or what?”

I tune out the sports commentary while I focus on the entrance to the restaurant. Several more Gladiators join us before Fletcher— finally —shows up. As he winds his way across the crowded bar and grill, I stand up, wiping my hands on my jeans.

“Hi, Professor.” Damn, he looks good in that tight black tee, and those jeans? Holy shit. “Dad, I’d like you to meet Dr. Thomas Fletcher.”

The professor reaches over, shaking hands with my father. “Call me Tom. It’s a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Bennett.”

Dad returns his firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, too, Tom. Call me George—or ‘SR’, as the boys here have tagged me. So, Junior is in one of your classes, huh?”

“Molecular Biology. Top of the class, far ahead of the other students.” Fletcher pulls out a chair, making himself comfortable at the table.

My dad gives me a wink. “Junior got his brains from his mom and his body from me.”

“Professor Fletcher is head of the Biology department,” I say, my face heating up. “He also runs the university’s Masters of Human Genetics program.”

“You don’t say?” Dad raises his eyebrows and whistles. “That’s impressive, Tom.”

“I’m equally impressed with your son, George,” he tells him.

Score one for Fletcher. There’s nothing my dad likes talking about more than football and ‘his Georgey-boy’ .

My father’s chest puffs out. “Yep, I couldn’t be more proud of my Georgey-boy. Did you know he got a full-ride football scholarship to Spartacus? The NFL scouts are fighting over him! He’ll be picked up in the first draft, mark my words.”

“He’s an exceptional young man,” the professor says before pivoting the conversation. “Did you know that football and genetics have something in common?”

“You don’t say?” Dad pours a glass of beer from the pitcher and passes it to him.

Fletcher murmurs his thanks. “A winning football team is built on the basics, correct? They’ve got to have solid building blocks in place if they want to succeed.”

“Without a doubt, Tom.” Dad hands him a basket of breadsticks. “One player having a poor season can ruin it for everybody.”

The professor nods. “It’s the same with genetics. Genes are the building blocks of life, and one mutation can cause all kinds of havoc. That’s why research science is so vital. Discovering the cause of a mutation can be the first step in curing disease and saving lives—the ultimate touchdown, as it were.”

“Can you imagine if they discovered a cure for cancer?” my father asks wistfully.

“Maybe one day your son will.” The professor casually takes a sip of his beer.

Dad glances at me in surprise. “Junior? He’s always had a knack for science. You think he’d be that good?”

“I’m certain of it, George. Trust me on this.” Fletcher stares directly into my father’s eyes. “One day your son may win a Nobel Prize for his scientific contributions to humanity.”

“You don’t say?” my old man mutters.

I can feel my face heating up to a million degrees. “Um… can I order you something to eat, Professor? More wings, Dad?”

“Thank you, Bennett,” Fletcher says. “I’ll have a burger, rare. So George, what’s your opinion of the Broncos’ defensive line-up?”

“They’re unstoppable!” Dad grins as they turn to his other favorite topic. “Did you know I played defense for the Packers back in the day? They used to call me the Bennett Brick Wall.”

“Is that so? I’ve always been a Green Bay fan...”

Well played, Professor, well played. I guess he knows a thing or two about strategy himself. As I escape to the bar’s counter, waiting while they cook Fletcher’s food, I pull out my phone to text Josh.

Where are you?

Outside! I saw Professor Fletcher go in to Roscoe’s!

Yeah, I invited him

W hy would you do that? You know how much he freaks me out!

He’s not so bad once you get to know him. Why does he scare you so much?

He’s like Lord Shiva, the Hindu god of destruction. Fletcher is The Destroyer!

Come inside, buddy. I’ll protect you from Lord Shiva

Not today, my friend. I’ve got to TA for him tomorrow, and that’s soon enough for me. See you at home?

OK, I’ll tell Dad you said Hi

Jeez… The Destroyer? If Fletcher thinks my anxiety is bad, he should check out my roommate’s. Or maybe not... There’s no telling what coping mechanisms he might suggest for poor Josh.

Several hours later…

“Tom seems like a nice guy,” my father says as we head toward the darkening parking lot—Sundays at Roscoe’s always run late. “Handsome, too... Maybe I should introduce him to my co-worker, Cindy?”

Tyrell gives a full-body shudder. “SR, that dude is scary! He’s got a rep for being the biggest hardass on campus.”

“I hear he makes students cry,” my friend, Josiah, adds.

“He likes my Georgey-boy well enough.” Dad shrugs. “Is he a hardass with you, kid?”

“He’s the best teacher I’ve ever had.” I mean that in every sense of the word. “Besides, everyone knows that the Bennett men don’t scare easily.”

Blake, the quarterback of the team, snorts. “When one of the Bennetts is about to tackle you, it’s the other guy that’s scared. Ain’t that right, SR?”

“That’s right, Quarter-pounder!” Dad grins. “And when Blake’s got the ball...”

“Your ass had better haul!” my teammates shout in unison. They noisily high-five and fist-bump each other, basically acting like a bunch of idiots.

Family... You gotta love ’em.