Page 33 of B is for Baby Me (Classes in Kink #1)
Chapter thirty-two
The End (Zone)
JR
“Dude, that could have been you,” Tyrell groans as the Philadelphia Eagles pick an offensive tackle from Alabama in the first round.
Our usual crowd is gathered at Roscoe’s to watch the NFL Draft on the big screen. Whoops, hollers, and cheers fill the air—as well as groans and a few four-letter words. Of course, there’s also a shitload of food. This time, there’s even veggies on the table.
“Let the Crimson Tide go to Philly,” I tell my former teammate. “I’m staying here. The best decision I ever made was to drop out of the draft and stay at Spartacus. I can’t wait to learn more about biochemistry and genetics.”
That’s an understatement. Even though I’ve been accepted into the Master of Science in Genetics program starting in the fall, it can’t come soon enough for me. Fletcher and I have several experiments lined up for the summer—both in his private lab on campus and his extra-private one at home.
Blake gives me a horrified look. “Dude! I told ya, you gotta stop pounding the books and start pounding the—" He glances at Fletcher, his mouth snapping shut.
Tyrell glances back and forth between me and the professor, a smart-ass grin on his face. “What I wanna know is, who’s been eating who for breakfast?”
I choke on a carrot stick.
As Fletcher pats me on the back, he gives the linebacker a predatory smile. “Just call me the Big Bad Wolf, Typhoon Jones.”
“ Typhoon! I love it.“ The football player cracks up, high-fiving the professor across the table. “Typhoon Jones and the Big Bad Wolf. We’lll huff and puff and blow your house down!”
“Why am I suddenly hungry for barbecue pork?” Simon asks.
While a few more jokes fly around the table, my dad throws an arm across Tyrell’s broad shoulders, pointing up at the television screen. “Don’t you worry, Typhoon. That’ll be you and Blake next year. Mark my words—once you and QB Doo are old enough to enter the draft, the NFL scouts will be fighting over you.”
Josiah nods his head, his dark hair flopping in his eyes. “Coach Becker says we’ll have another winning team next year, especially if we can get Bennett to be the Gladiators’ unofficial assistant coach.”
What? This is the first I’ve heard about it. “Coach must’ve been talking about my dad—he’s the one with actual NFL experience. The Bennett Brick Wall could help you win another national championship.”
My father sits back in his chair, blinking in surprise as my teammates turn to stare at him.
“Aw, sure look it,” Molly says, gazing up at her former patient. “Me Georgey-boy’s a class footballer. Ye’d hafta look high ’n low fer better than The Golden Dad-iator.”
Howls of laughter erupt around the table, along with a few chants of ‘ The Golden Dad-iator’. The redhead gets so many fist-bumps for the nickname, you’d think our team was the Fighting Irish.
“Whad’ya say, Pops?” I ask my father. “Are ya gonna help take the team to the next level?”
His eyes light up. “I’ll talk to Andy on Monday. I’ve got some ideas.”
Our corner of Roscoe’s explodes into cheers. You’d think the football players had already won next year’s college football championship by the sound of the celebration. While they applaud their new ‘unofficial assistant coach’, I celebrate my dad’s new lease on life. Not only has he been given a clean bill of health by his doctors, he seems stronger and happier than ever. I’d say it’s from all of the healthy food he’s been eating, but it might have more to do with the petite Irishwoman by his side. And, now that Team Dad has become Team Dad-iator? They’ll be no holding him back.
As the noise settles down to a dull roar, Josh arrives with a takeout tray from Whole Latte Love. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, passing a drink to Fletcher. “The Destroy—uh, I mean, the professor asked me to pick up coffee.”
“Thank you, Mr. Malik,” Fletcher says as he accepts his iced espresso. “I hope that stoned barista didn’t give you any trouble.”
My roommate smiles to himself as he hands me a cup. “I found out his name,” he tells me from the side of his mouth. “It’s Karma.”
Is he talking about the barista with all those tattoos, the one he always acts so afraid of?
“Karma?” Simon asks as Josh passes him a cold brew. “Delicious. I love it when what goes around comes around.”
Good one, Sigh-Moan. I pick up my coffee, about to take a sip when I notice something written on its sleeve. Looking closer, I read out loud, “ Call me. 555-798-1442. Hey! I think this one’s yours, buddy.”
Josh’s eyes widen as he takes the cup out of my hand, reading the words for himself. His mouth drops open, then he whispers, “Holy crap!”
Heck yeah! My little buddy might’ve just found the hook-up he’s always wanted to have someday.
“J-Bob! What are you doing after graduation?” Dad asks him as the teenager pulls up a chair. “Are ya going back to India until the fall semester starts?”
He shakes his head. “I have an internship with Dr. Yoshida in the Cosmology department.”
“I have a summer internship, too!” Josiah’s gray eyes light up. “Mr. Crenshaw is giving me a job at BDS&M. Isn’t that right, Mr. Crenshaw?”
“You know that you can call me Sigh-Moan,” the businessman tells him.
“Yes, sir,” the running back answers.
Simon licks his lips, gazing at the handsome athlete with half-lidded eyes. “ Sir works for me, too.”
I dart a look at Fletcher, and he gives me a wink. God knows what kind of job Sigh-Moan is gonna give Josiah. I wonder if it’ll start with the word ‘blow’?
“So, is everyone staying in Hannah Harbor for the summer?” I ask, glancing hopefully at my group of friends.
“I’m headed back home to Kansas,” Blake answers. “As long as I pass all of my classes, that is.”
“Same here,” Tyrell says. “I’m going home to Chicago, if I can get a passing grade in English Lit.”
Oof. I hope he doesn’t have Professor Patterson. That guy is such an asshole.
At least I’ll have most of my friends around for the summer—and the next school year is gonna be amazing. Both Josh and I will be in grad school while the rest of my teammates finish up their undergraduate degrees. Fletcher will continue teaching at Spartacus and Simon will do… whatever he does at BDS&M. Dad’s gonna stay in Hannah Harbor, and hopefully help coach the team to another national victory.
“What are you doing this summer, Molly?” I ask my dad’s new friend .
The redhead glances at my father before she says, “I reckon I’ll do a wee bit o’ traveling.”
My dad’s face falls. “You’re leaving?”
“Not without ye.” Her eyes twinkle as she gazes up at him.
I think my dad would follow her anywhere. “Get your bucket list ready, Pops. It sounds like Molly has plans for you.”
Life couldn’t get much better. My friends and family are all doing well. I’m living my dream with the man that I love. What more could I want?
Roscoe, the owner of our favorite Sunday hang-out, wanders over to our corner of his bar and grill. “Hey, gang. Do you know anyone looking to adopt? I’m trying to find a home for this cute little girl.” He pulls out his phone and shows us a photo.
As soon as I see her picture, I know in my heart what I’ve gotta do.
While the rest of the table oohs and aahs over the baby, I turn to the man by my side. “Fletcher… Can we?” I’m already in love with her. Am I asking too much?
As my dom gazes at her sweet little face, his eyes grow soft. “She reminds me of someone I know.” We lean our heads together, staring at the photo on Roscoe’s phone… of an adorable St. Bernard puppy.
Simon looks over his best friend’s shoulder. “I told you to keep an eye out for St. Bernard collars.”
I hold my breath, waiting to hear what Fletcher will say. Are we gonna be pet parents?
The corners of his lips curl up. “Alright, but you’ll have to move in with me after graduation to help take care of her.”
Holy shit! What did he just say?
“Do you mean it?” I ask, searching his eyes. He wants us to move in together and adopt? “We’re gonna be a family?”
Fletcher looks around the table at our rowdy band of Spartacus misfits before turning to me with a smile. “We already are, Ben.”
Family...
You gotta love ’em.