Page 5 of Tell Me Softly

“Let me be straight with you. I brought you on as a favor to your mother. Please don’t make me regret it.

You will have the following obligations: you will help Coach Klebb with the athletes.

I remember seeing you on the court when you were a kid, and I saw on your application that you’d lettered on your college team your freshman year.

That’s an accomplishment. I’m sure you learned some things there that could help us out.

We’ll likely be calling on you to do a little substitute teaching, as we don’t have a big pool of people here to step in when teachers get sick.

It’s not rocket science; we really just need a warm body.

Of course, you’ll also be in the library supervising students who have detention, and we may have you work as a counselor for the senior trip. ”

That last part we hadn’t discussed.

“Wait, you want me to go to a campground and watch over a bunch of teenagers?” I asked, certain I was the worst possible candidate for that job.

We all know what happens at those kinds of camps, and I wasn’t the one to play police inspector trying to keep the kids from sneaking beers or sleeping together.

“That’s correct,” he said. “Now, let me spell out the three golden rules for you. First, no drugs and no drinking. Second, no relationships with any students beyond the strictly professional. That extends to your brother, Taylor; I don’t want to see him getting special treatment or favors.

Third, if I find out that you’re involved in helping any students break any rules, it’ll be big problems for you. Understood?”

“Understood, sir,” I said, standing up.

“Thiago,” he said, causing me to turn back.

“I realize this may be difficult as you’re only a few years older than the students, so they may show some interest in you.

” I probably shouldn’t have grinned then, but I did.

“You’re not a kid; you’re nearly twenty years old, and whatever you do here, you’re the one responsible, OK? ”

“Yes, sir.”

I walked out feeling chastened. Sticking to the rules wasn’t really my thing, and I’d have to be careful if I didn’t want this whole thing to blow up in my face.

***

Coaching was fun––more so than I’d imagined.

Taylor was on the team, and it didn’t take long for the guys to figure out we were brothers.

There was an instant closeness between me and the guys.

I couldn’t help it; I was young, basically their same age.

When they ended up dragging me into a game with them, I had to show them who was boss.

“You’ve got moves,” Coach Klebb told me afterward, as we talked about the upcoming season while the kids showered.

Everything was going great until I was walking to the teachers’ lounge and bumped into the last person I wanted to see: Kam.

We literally ran into each other, and I had to grab her shoulders to keep her from stumbling.

My hands tingled where they touched her, and immediately I let her go.

We looked at each other for what felt like hours, but was probably just a few seconds.

Time seemed to stop as we noticed how each other had changed.

She was so much more mature; she had the same traits I’d always known, but filled out, alluring.

She was a young woman now, a gorgeous one.

A stunning young woman I hated more than anyone.

Her eyelashes were long and dark. Her full lips in their glossy lipstick could have made me lose my grip on myself.

I could still see the traces of her dimples even though she wasn’t smiling.

Her cheeks were pink, not from makeup, but because she had a tendency to blush when she was surprised or embarrassed.

And her body…my eyes wanted to take it all in, but I stopped them.

One thing hadn’t changed: I was still taller than her.

“Thiago,” she said, surprised. My name on her lips surprised me more than I’d expected.

I could feel her voice in my groin.

Damn.

I clenched my jaws and told myself not to even look at her.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to move past, but she grabbed my arm and held me back.

“Let go,” I said, and I could tell she didn’t like that.

“I just want to talk,” she continued. She looked at me the way she did when she was little. Like a lost girl, but one who was ready to fight.

I stared down at her fingers wrapped around my arm and told her, gritting my teeth, “Let me go.”

I needed to put distance between us. Nothing good could come of us talking.

There were millions of things I wanted to reproach her for, millions of insults I wanted to shout at her.

And if I let my rage get the better of me, I could lose this job and all it meant. I’d already lost enough thanks to her.

Frightened or shocked at my tone, she drew her hand back as if she’d burned it.

I turned around and started walking off.

“I’m sorry, Thiago.” I didn’t need to look at her to know she was crying.

“Sorry doesn’t fix anything,” I replied, ignoring the people standing there staring at us.

This was going to be hell.