Page 27 of B is for Baby Me (Classes in Kink #1)

Chapter twenty-six

Under Pressure

JR

“I can’t believe it.” It’s been almost a week and I still can’t get over it.

Coach Becker thumps me on the back. “Believe it, JR. You deserve it.”

The entire team is celebrating the national championship win at our favorite local hangout. Roscoe himself closed the sports bar early just for the Golden Gladiators and our fans. From the way everyone is acting, you’d think we’d won the Super Bowl.

“Way to go, JR!” A random student pats me on the back as he passes. Not only had I been named the team’s Most Valuable Player following our 44-16 win over Alabama, the ESPN sportscasters had focused on me throughout the televised game. They’d constantly flashed my photo and stats, calling me their #1 NFL Draft Pick and ‘the backbone of the Golden Gladiators’. Other news stations have dubbed me ‘The Gladiator’s Shield’—which sounds like a slogan for condoms, if you ask me. Wherever I’ve gone this week, people have treated me like a celebrity. Everyone on campus acts like I’m a rockstar. The sheer weight of the attention makes me want to crawl into a hole.

“I watched the game as we were crossing the Atlantic, from thirty-five thousand feet in the air!” Josh’s eyes shine with excitement. “I told all the flight attendants that you’re my best friend.”

I give him a side hug. “It’s good having you back, buddy. I missed you.”

“Hey, Josh! I thought I was your favorite,” Tyrell yells from the center of a crowd of admirers. “Did you tell those flight attendants that you know Ty-dal Wave Jones?”

My roommate shouts back, “Of course! I told everyone that you bring the Gladiators good luck, just like Ganesh.” He pulls a handpainted figurine out of his backpack, waving it at the football player.

“Dude, you remembered!” Tyrell rushes over, accepting the statue of the elephant-headed god like it’s the Heisman Trophy.

As Josh rifles through his backpack, Blake and Josiah hurry to him, hoping for their own souvenirs from Jaipur. “This one’s for you, Blake. Indra is the king of the Hindu gods, known for leading his army into battle. JR, you get Hanuman—the symbol of physical strength and scholarly devotion. Josiah, you remind me of Rama, the god of virtue. He symbolizes perfection—spiritually, mentally, and physically.” My buddy’s eyes dart to mine, and we share a secret grin. He’s right about that... Josiah’s hot.

Next, he brings his bag of souvenirs to the table where my father is seated. “Lord Vishnu is like you, Uncle SR. He’s known for his kindness and compassion.”

Dad puts a hand to his heart. “Thanks, J-Bob.” He picks up the figurine, staring at the blue god with a pleased smile.

“Sigh-Moan, you’re like Lord Krishna—the god of love and playful pranks.” Josh hands him a statue, then whispers, “His flute has seductive powers.”

“That it does, darling boy,” Simon purrs as he accepts his gift.

My roommate pulls a final figurine out of his backpack, glancing at Fletcher and quickly away. He takes a deep breath, then places a four-armed statue in front of him, turning to leave without a word.

“Wait, Mr. Malik,” the professor calls out. “You got me a gift? Which god is this?”

Josh turns back around, his eyes wide. “Um... I-I don’t remember.”

I snort a laugh into my beer. So, that’s what Lord Shiva looks like. Good to know.

“Regardless, that was very kind of you,” Fletcher says as he inspects the handpainted statue. “If I haven’t told you before, I appreciate all of your hard work as my teaching assistant. I look forward to working with you again this semester.”

The teenager eyes him suspiciously. “I’ve been studying genetic mutations, Professor—I swear.”

“Genetic mutations?” I look back and forth between them. Why would an astrophysics student need to learn about that?

“Actually, the scientific research is fascinating,” Josh admits. “I’ve been learning about CRISPR/Cas9-based engineering of the epigenome. The therapeutic applications are extraordinary!”

“Right?” I grin at him. “Professor, tell Josh about your experiment!” As we begin an animated discussion on the manipulation of gene expression, the rest of the party goes back to their celebration. I get a bunch more pats on the back and congratulatory high-fives—but with Fletcher and Josh by my side, discussing my favorite subject? The attention isn’t anything I can’t handle.

The next day…

“No way! The Eagles have better defense,” Tyrell insists as we sit down at a table in the cafeteria. “Besides, Philly would be a great place to live. Right, JR?”

“But if he gets picked by Kansas City, he’ll have the best chance to go to the Super Bowl,” Blake argues. “You wanna play for the Chiefs—don’t you, JR?”

Rachel squeezes up against my side, making room for herself at the crowded table. “How much money do players make in the NFL?”

“Our boy’s gonna make bank.” Tyrell takes a big bite of pizza, mumbling around the food in his mouth. “Forty mill if he gets the #1 draft slot—and that’s with twenty-five as a signing bonus.”

“ Million? “ She rubs my bicep, her eyes lighting up.

“Besides endorsements,” Blake points out. “Travis Kelce made thirty million in endorsements last year, plus he’s dating Taylor Swift. You’re kinda cute for a dude, JR. Maybe you’ll get to date Olivia Rodrigo!”

Rachel tightens her grip on my arm.

“What about the Saints?” Josiah asks. “That name has a nice ring to it. Wouldn’t you like to be a Saint, JR?”

I push back my plate of uneaten food. “I’m not really hungry right now.”

“Dibs on the meatball sub.” Tyrell grabs my sandwich, taking a huge bite out of it.

“Can I walk you to class?” Rachel presses herself against my side.

“Um... maybe next time.” Untangling myself from the pushy blonde, I hurry toward the exit. I’d rather be anywhere else.

And the next day…

“No.” Hell no. Fucking hell no.

“Just consider it, JR,” Dean Owens says. “Everyone would love it!”

When I’d been called to the dean’s office, I was worried that I might be in trouble. And I am in trouble— deep trouble, if the administrator gets his way.

“Josh is the top-ranked student at Spartacus this year. He should be the student speaker at graduation.” Shit , that’s the last thing I need.

“Mr. Malik told me he’s nervous about speaking in front of so many people.” The dean leans forward in his chair. “Since the two of you are such good friends, I thought—“

“Nope. Sorry. Can’t do it.” Just the thought of being on stage, speaking in front of a huge auditorium of people… It makes me want to throw up.

He keeps pushing. “Consider the publicity for Spartacus, not to mention our athletic program. You’re ESPN’s #1 Draft Pick—with you giving our commencement address, imagine the media coverage we would get!”

A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. I rub a hand across my mouth, then wipe it on my jeans.

“Just think about it,” Dean Owens urges me. “You’d be doing a great service to your university. To your coach. To your team .”

I lean forward with my hands on my knees. Oh god, I’m gonna puke.

And the day after that…

Coach Becker gazes at me with a somber expression. “As your coach—and as a family friend—it’s my job to talk to you about your options. There’s a lot riding on this decision.”

I put my head in my hands, a wave of dizziness washing over me. “So, you think I should stay in the draft?”

“That’s not up to me, JR. I just want to help you weigh your choices.” He folds his arms across his chest. “Have you talked to your dad yet?”

“I was working up to it,” I tell him. “I didn’t expect to get so much attention from the championship game. It kinda snowballed on me.” More like an avalanche.

“Has it made you change your mind? You’re an exceptional player, JR—I don’t think you’ve ever realized just how good you are.” He leans forward, his eyes gleaming. “You could be legendary. With your work ethic, there’s no telling what kind of name you’d make for yourself.”

My shoulders slump. “You do think I should stay in the draft. Just say it.”

The coach sits back in his chair, tapping a pencil against his desk. “Bennett, tell me what you were thinking about during the big game. What was your motivation?”

That’s easy. “I wanted to win for you... for my team... for my dad.” So many people were counting on me. Winning had never been more important.

“And what about for yourself?” he asks.

I close my eyes as I recall the critical moments of the national championship. “I wanted to do well in my final game. I wanted to go out big.”

When I open my eyes, Coach Becker gives me a wistful smile. “Well, I guess you have your answer. It’s time to talk to your dad, JR.”

When Josh and I arrive at Dad’s Super Bowl party, we’re greeted by Simon at the door. As we each give him a hug, I say, “You got here early. Are you gonna help us make the sub sandwiches?”

“ Sandwiches? “ he scoffs. “There’s only one Super Bowl a year—or so I’ve been told. Do you honestly think I’d let you celebrate with sandwiches?”

My roommate’s stomach rumbles loudly. “Did you make another vegan cheese ball?”

“Darling boy, I made a plethora of vegan treats,” Simon tells him. “Everything from jalapeno poppers with sweet potato filling to chipotle black bean sliders with mango guacamole.”

“Sigh-Moan!” Josh’s face lights up as he hurries toward the kitchen.

My stomach growls in agreement. Who knew that rabbit food could sound so appetizing?

The culinary artist whispers to me, “I slipped a few healthy choices in among the classics. Don’t tell your father.”

“My lips are sealed,” I laugh as we walk into the kitchen, then stop as I stare at the vast quantity of food in the room. “But they won’t be sealed for long.”

“I have that effect on all the boys,” Simon purrs.

My father enters from the dining room, carrying an empty tray. “Si brought seven crock-pots— seven! He made chili... queso... pulled pork... There’s so many toppings for nachos, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Pace yourself, Pops. It sounds like we’re about to have the Thanksgiving of all Super Bowls.” I sniff the air, and my mouth waters. “Thank god we invited the whole team over. There’s no way we could’ve eaten all of this food by ourselves.”

“Hey! I woulda tried,” Tyrell says as he and Blake come into the kitchen. “I’m no quitter, especially when it comes to Sigh-Moan’s cooking.”

“I think all the guys were hoping for a holiday repeat,” Blake adds. “Josiah wanted to know if I was coming to the Simon Bowl party.”

The businessman pats his freshly styled hair. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”

For the next hour, guests arrive one after another. The Beckers are the latest to show up—Sammy heads straight to Josh, quizzing him on Indian nose piercings, while the coach and his wife hurry to the family room to catch the end of the pregame show.

“Where’s your professor?” Dad asks me just as there’s another knock on the door.

When I open it, there stands Fletcher with an attractive brunette—which doesn’t surprise me one bit. I know all about the latest matchmaking attempt. Maybe the third time’s the charm? Let’s cross our fingers.

“I didn’t realize you were bringing anyone, Tom.” My dad greets the couple with narrowed eyes as they enter the living room. “Who’s your friend?”

“George, I’d like you to meet Suzy Jensen. She’s a colleague of mine from Spartacus.” Fletcher gestures toward her. “Suzy, this is George Bennett Senior—JR’s father.”

Dad shakes her hand with obvious reluctance. “Oh, do you know my Georgey-boy?”

“Well, sure!” Suzy says. “JR’s a hero on campus! We’re all so proud of the team. I hope you don’t mind me crashing the party, but when Fletcher told me where he was watching the Super Bowl, I begged him to let me tag along.”

My father’s mouth tightens in an uncharacteristic frown. “And how long have you and Tom been seeing each other?”

She snorts, jabbing an elbow into the professor’s side. “Me and Dr. Freeze? It’ll take someone hotter than me to melt this guy’s icy heart.”

“Suzy’s a friend,” Fletcher explains. “She coaches the women’s softball team at the university.”

“I hear the Spartans look great this year, Ms. Jensen,” I jump in. If we can get my dad and Suzy to talk about sports, then everything else should be smooth-sailing.

The softball coach gives me a playful punch on the arm. “Call me Suzy. Unless you’re backing the Eagles—then you can call me Ms. Jensen.”

“We’re backing the Chiefs for the Super Bowl win.” Dad smiles at the brunette. It looks like he’s finally letting down his guard. “Can I get you something to drink? Our friend Simon made a feast for the party.”

She links arms with him as they stroll toward the dining room. “I heard Sigh-Moan would be here. Isn’t he a riot?”

Wow. That went a lot better than the other attempts.

“Well done, Professor.” I grin at him as we walk toward the family room where the party is in full swing. Football, friends, and fantastic food. How could the day get any better? No matter whether the Chiefs win or lose, it’s already the best Super Bowl ever.

A few hours later…

Arghh!! A soul-crushing defeat, an historic three-in-a-row win snatched from our hands. Normally, I would be upset, but I’ve had such a fantastic evening that nothing can get me down.

As we clean up after the party, Fletcher asks my dad, “What did you think of Ms. Jensen?”

“Oh, Suzy’s great,” Dad says. “We really hit it off. She’s coming to Roscoe’s for March Madness.”

“Basketball,” I whisper to Simon.

“Oh, do we follow basketball, too?” His eyes light up. “I love watching men play with their balls, especially when they dribble and shoot.”

Fletcher rolls his eyes at his friend before turning back to my father. “That’s wonderful, George. I hoped that you and Suzy would have a lot in common.”

“We sure do! Football... basketball... baseball... She even plays golf! We’re gonna be great friends, mark my words.”

I nudge him with an elbow. “Or maybe more than friends?”

Dad lets out a huff of air. “Enough with the matchmaking already! Suzy’s fantastic, but we’ve got no chemistry—not like I did with your mom. One look at my Sunny and I was head over heels in love. I don’t expect lightning to strike this old heart twice, Georgey-boy.”

The professor squeezes his broad shoulder. “You’ve got a big heart, George. Don’t give up yet.”

My father’s face grows pensive as he searches Fletcher’s eyes. “The Bennett men are loyal, Tom. We give our whole hearts to those we love. You can expect that love to last a lifetime.”

Fletcher returns his solemn gaze. “Understood.”

Understood? What does he understand? Were they talking about my dad’s love life... or mine? No way does my father know that I’m gay. He’d have said something, right? Did he just warn Fletcher off? Oh my god, what if he did... and what if the professor listens to him? With all the pressure I’ll be under for the next few months, I’ll need my dom’s help more than ever. What will I do if I don’t have it? What would I do without Fletcher?

Panic grips me by the throat, clenching my windpipe in its tight fist. I race from the room, struggling to breathe.

The bomb has finally dropped.