Ryker (The Powers That Be Book 4) Page 5
“I’d like to see your moves,” Ryker mumbled from behind me as the kids came running over.
“Coach Powers! Are we playing basketball? Cool!” the kids said as they circled around him.
“Yep. Let’s get you divided into teams,” Ryker told them proceeding to take charge of everything.
Jerk.
It was decided that I’d coach one team and Ryker would take the other, and, oh, I was going to beat his ass but good. But with one minute left in the game, Ryker’s team scored a basket to tie the score 4-4.
“Why don’t you two get in there and play? Help them out a little,” Coach G hollered at us.
A timeout was called and I made the adjustments.
“Okay, everyone stay with the man you were guarding,” I instructed.
A little girl named Ella raised her hand. “But there aren’t any men out there.”
I chuckled. “That’s just what you call the person you’re guarding,” I explained.
“What’s guarding?” Jason inquired.
“It’s staying on the man—er, person, you’re assigned to and keeping them from scoring.”
“Oh!” he said. “I can do that!”
“Good. So here’s what we’re gonna do. Jennifer, you’re the best shooter so when I bring the ball down, you go stand right by the basket. Aaron, you get on the free throw line.” I described as clearly as I could what I wanted them to do and they all nodded their heads when I asked if they understood. “Okay, let’s break!”
We all put our hands in then said, “Go, Geckos!” which was the name they’d come up with for our team.
I had Zach take the ball out and throw to me and I dribbled it up the court where I was met with Ryker who was guarding me. I dribbled right up to him making it look like he could get the ball, but when he swiped at it, I did a between the legs dribble to switch directions sweeping right by him and took off right down the middle of the court to the basket. My team had surprisingly set up just the way I’d told them and when I got to the middle of the lane, I bounce passed to Jennifer for her to take the shot. But I never got to see it.
Ryker came in right behind me, and trying to knock the ball out of my hands he missed but ended up running smack dab into my back and we both went flying. Luckily, he grabbed me around the waist and making some bizarre superhero move, twisted us in midair to where when we landed I came down on top of him, my back to his front both of us letting out an OOMPH! as we hit the floor.
As I lay there in shock at what just happened, gasping for air, I felt him shaking with laughter underneath me.
“Seem to recall being in this same position with you last night,” he muttered, wrapping his arms tighter around me.
“Let me go!” I hissed elbowing him in the ribs hard enough to make him grunt. Good. He let me go and I scrambled up quickly, turning to glare down at him as I smoothed out my mussed hair and jacket. He stood up slowly, a wicked smile on his face and then the questions began.
“Are you okay, Miss Coach Manjajelly?”
“Do you need to go to the nurse’s office? I know where it is! I go every day!”
“I’m okay! No, I don’t need to go see the nurse!”
“Coach Powers, you hurted her!” said one little girl who was tugging on his hoodie.
He squatted down in front of her. “I think Coach Mangenelli will be fine. But if you think I should, I can kiss her booboos all better later.”
“Yay! You should kiss her booboos! She’ll feel a lot better after that! My mommy always kisses my booboos and they don’t hurt no more!”
“Okay, Bridget, I’ll definitely do that,” he agreed giving me not only a smirk but a wink as Bridget danced around him singing a song about booboos not hurting anymore.
Lord.
“Coach?” Jennifer, my little shooter said quietly.
I looked down at her and asked, “Yes?”
She gazed shyly up at me shuffling her feet around. “I made the shot so we won.”
My smile was so big it hurt my face. “Thatta girl!” I picked her up and spun her around as she giggled then gave her a high five after putting her down.
“All right. Time to head back to class! Line up!” Coach G called gruffly and I watched as twenty-two first graders immediately obeyed getting into their respective lines fairly quickly (and neatly, I might add). “Tomorrow’s Friday so it’s free day. You can play whatever you want.”
Twenty-two little voices cried out, “Dodgeball!” which amazed me that they’d choose to come back for more of the grueling game.
“We’ll decide tomorrow,” Coach G declared.
“Thanks, Coach Gilbert,” their teacher who’d shown up called with a wave.
Arms across his chest, Coach G nodded at her then looked first at Ryker then me. “I need coffee. Fifth graders’ll be coming in in about five. I’m not back, get ‘em started with some laps.” I watched as he followed the first graders out then turned to see Ryker adjusting the goals to eight feet.
“What’re you doing?” I asked.
“Getting ready for the next class,” he explained.
“No. I mean, what are you doing?”
He glanced at me then turned back to his task. “Told you already.”
I knew my ego was talking as I surmised he must’ve seen where I was doing my teaching and had put in a request for it even though it was highly unlikely that would happen. But I still wouldn’t have put it past the fact that he could’ve charmed some lonely, flattered, giddy professor into placing him here.
“Just so you know, I’m finished with you,” I mumbled as I bent to pick up a basketball. When I stood and turned to him, I gasped because he was right there all up in my space.
“Are you now?” he asked looking down at me, his expression and tone bordering on dangerous. He took a step forward making me back up against the wall. “You weren’t finished with me last night after I made you come so hard you couldn’t even move.”
I pushed off on his chest with the basketball I was holding, getting away from him. “That’s all you ever think about, isn’t it? Just because you can give me amazing orgasms doesn’t mean we have something. You even said it yourself. All you want from me is another hookup, right?”
He stared at me with narrowed eyes. “What do you want from me, Francesca? We’ve fucked twice. You expecting me to propose?”
Was he serious right now?
“No!” I hissed. God, he was such a jerk. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“Hey, Coach Mangenelli!” a couple of the fifth graders who were coming in called.
“Hey, guys!” I answered, ignoring the fact that I’d allowed my heart to break once again at the hands of Ryker Powers.
~*~*~*~
I didn’t say another word to Ryker as the day went on. It wasn’t that I was ignoring him; there just wasn’t a reason for me to chat him up. When Coach G came back from his coffee break, we jumped right back into the routine with the other classes, Ryker and I coaching against each other (without incident but at least my teams won) before he left at lunch to go to wrestling practice.
When I got home late that afternoon Sharee was on the couch FaceTiming with Gladys on her phone.
“So you didn’t come home last night, you whore!” Gladys accused.
Great.
I cut my eyes at Sharee before announcing, “Yes, I’m a whore. A huge one. But that’s all over now.”
“Why?” they said in unison.
Letting out a sigh, I sat on the couch next to Sharee. “He doesn’t want a relationship. He just wants to hook up. I want more. It’s over.” Gladys started to say something and I interrupted. “Before you both tell me to enjoy being laid then to move on, you know I can’t do that. I’m just not made that way.”
“But he was good, right?” Gladys inquired.
Another sigh. “The best.”
I thought their silence at the demise of my dream was generous until Gladys started talking.
�
�You need to make him jealous.”
I rolled my eyes. “You can’t make someone jealous who doesn’t want you in the first place, Glad.”
“But you can try!” she said with a giggle.
“No, I’m not going to try to make him jealous. I’m just gonna move on and everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. Or at least that’s what Mrs. Bertolini told me this morning when I was sneaking in. Since when does she go out on her balcony at four in the morning? She scared the shit out of me when she whispered ‘Gotcha!’”
“She’s psychic,” Sharee muttered. “She knew you’d be coming home.”
“I’m beginning to think she is,” Gladys whispered reverently.
“Anyway,” I began, shaking my head and rolling my eyes at both of them, “I’m starting over.”
“Good idea!” Gladys agreed which made me snort since she’d just been the one telling me to make Ryker jealous.
“Party Saturday. Wish you could be here,” Sharee told Gladys.
Gladys’ pouty face filled the screen. “Me too. But, ooooh! Perfect opportunity for you to meet someone, Frankie! Then rub that shit in that Ryker guy’s face!”
“God. I just told you I’m not doing that. And, oh, yay! Another party! Like the last one didn’t land me in a shit ton of trouble.” I gave Sharee a look. “I’m not going.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” she informed me. “SAE’s are having their annual Welcome Back to Hell party and it’s huge. Everyone who’s anyone will be there.”
“Guess I’m not anyone,” I declared.
“Yes, you are! And you have to go!” Gladys begged.
I frowned. “Why’s it so important to you that I go?”
“Because… because you’re a senior and you’re gonna graduate soon and be an adult and not have time to party anymore. That’s why!” Gladys declared.
“We’ll see. Okay, I’ve gotta run to Mom and Dad’s for dinner.” I looked at Sharee. “You sure you can’t come?”
She shook her head. “I’ve got class.”
“Mom’s gonna be disappointed because she hasn’t seen you in forever but she’ll deal, I guess,” I told her. “Love you, Glad!” I said to the phone, kissing my fingers and putting them to the screen then got off the couch and went to my bedroom to change.
After coming out of my bedroom and hollering goodbye, I headed to the front door and heard Gladys telling Sharee that it was sad that my dreams had been destroyed.
“It doesn’t mean my life is over just because some guy and I didn’t work out!” I hollered through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna be fine.”
I knew they were only concerned for me, but I couldn’t help slamming the door just a little when I left.
7—Decision
“How’s my baby girl?” Dad asked as he wrapped his arms around me when I came in.
“I’m good, Daddy,” I answered when he let me go and took my coat.
“How’s teaching?” Mom called from the kitchen.
“It’s good too,” I called back then went toward the kitchen to help her with dinner.
“Get the bread out of the oven, would you?” Mom instructed after giving me a kiss on the cheek when I came in.
Dad had followed and now leaned against the counter. “So you’re teaching PE, huh?”
“Coaching, Daddy,” I answered as I put an oven mitt on. “I’m Coach Manjajelly,” I said with a snort as I bent to pull the garlic bread out.
“Oh, coaching. I see.” He chuckled at that. Dad had hoped I’d go into engineering, following in his footsteps, but I’d explained to him that teaching was a calling, almost like preaching, I guessed, and it’s what I felt I was supposed to do. He still balked a little at my career choice but he was beginning to come around.
“Coach Manjajelly?” Mom questioned as she put pasta on our plates.
“The first graders can’t seem to say our last name.” I set the bread on the stovetop.
“Why don’t you tell them to call you Frankie?” Dad asked as he carried the plates to the table.
“Tony. She can’t have her students calling her by her first name,” Mom scolded.
“Coach M, then,” he answered with a shrug.
“That works,” I muttered as I put a cloth in a basket then tossed the hot slices of bread into it.
“Come on,” Mom prompted. “It’s ready.” She carried the pot of sauce to the table and told me to grab the salad bowl on my way in.
We chatted a bit while Dad poured the wine each of us putting salad in our bowls and sauce onto our noodles. Then it got really fun.
“Sharee says you met a boy,” Mom declared.
Holy shit. I was going to kill her. Class or not, no wonder she didn’t want to come with me tonight.
“Uh, well, yeah, I guess I did,” I mumbled.
“Who is he?” Dad asked.
“Just some guy.”
“Sharee said his name’s Ryker and he’s a wrestler and very handsome!” Mom cooed.
Great.
“He’s nice looking,” I supplied with a scowl. Sharee was getting her ass kicked when I got home.
“So are you dating him?” Mom asked, twirling noodles around her fork and looking at me almost rabidly.
Good grief. Mom’s twin sister Valerie’s daughter, my cousin Gia, had just had a baby and now Mom was dying to be a grandma.
“Vi,” Dad warned.
“What? I’m asking my only child if she’s dating someone. What’s wrong with that?”
Dad shook his head and kept eating.
“We’re not dating, Mom,” I explained.
“Why not?”
I sighed. “Because he’s not interested. We’re just, uh, friends.”
The look of disappointment on her face killed but whatever. I was only twenty-two. There was still plenty of time for me to give her the gazillion grandkids that she craved.
“Why wouldn’t he be interested? Look at you! You’re beautiful, intelligent, sweet! The boy must be out of his mind! And what kind of name is Ryker?”
“Vi.”
“What, Anthony?” Oh, lord. She was calling him by his full name which meant she was pissed.
“Mom, he’s just not into relationships.”
“What do you mean not into relationships? Sharee said you spent the night with him!”
Bad time to be taking a drink of wine.
“I’m gonna kill her,” I choked out, wiping my mouth on my napkin.
“Topic change,” Dad insisted. “How about those Mariners? Huh?”
I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Sharee, Gladys and I always joked about how when Dad was uncomfortable with a conversation, he’d bring up the Mariners. But right now I was immeasurably glad I kept up with the local sports teams because he and I launched into a conversation about baseball while Mom pouted. Jesus.
After dinner, I helped clear the table and did the dishes keeping up the sports chat with Dad so Mom couldn’t ask about Ryker again.
“So have you met any other boys?” Mom’s curiosity got the better of her when I started the dishwasher.
“No, not really. Don’t worry, though. I’m sure I’ll find one and be knocked up before you know it. The playing field between you and Aunt Val will be even in no time.” I couldn’t help but be a little annoyed by this point.
“Francesca!” she chided.
I turned to her. “Well, that’s what you want, right?”
“Yes, but you don’t have to be crass about it.”
I rolled my eyes but felt bad that I’d been rude. “Sorry. It’s just a touchy topic right now.”
“Why?”
“Let it go, Vi. Can’t you see she doesn’t want to talk about it?”
Thank you, Dad!
Before Mom could keep going, I said, “I’m gonna head back. I’ve got classes tomorrow, so I need to get some sleep. Thank you for dinner.” I gave them each a hug and kiss on the cheek promising to come back next week.
Sitting in my car before
taking off, I texted Sharee.
Text Message—Thurs, Jan 15, 9:23 p.m.
Me: Just warning you I hate you very much right now
Text Message—Thurs, Jan 15, 9:23 p.m.
Ree: LOL
Text Message—Thurs, Jan 15, 9:23 p.m.
Me: You’ll think LOL when I get home
Text Message—Thurs, Jan 15, 9:24 p.m.
Ree: You should call your mom more often so she doesn’t have to call me to find out what’s going on in her only child’s life. The woman should’ve been a detective with her powers of persuasion at making me talk. Sorry.
By the time I got home Sharee was gone, having texted a few minutes before I got there saying she had to run to get shampoo which was a good thing because I was in a mood and a half. But I was tired, so after showering and putting on my pjs, I plopped into bed and was out like a light, not even hearing her come in.
~*~*~*~
Ryker wasn’t at school the next day. Coach G informed me that he had a tournament out of town, which I told myself I couldn’t have cared less. My classes went great with all of them opting to play dodgeball which still made me shake my head, and this time only a total of eight kids had to go to the nurse’s office all day, which Coach G said was an all-time low.
By the end of the day I was beat, having jumped in to play a bit with the kids because I must’ve been out of my freaking mind. The younger grades weren’t bad but some of the older kids weren’t lacking in ball-throwing skills making me duck, dive and dodge to avoid being knocked upside the head several times. Jeez. I couldn’t wait to get home and have a long soak in the tub but when I got there Sharee told me I needed to go somewhere with her.
“But I don’t wanna,” I whined like one of my first graders and throwing myself onto the sofa.
“It’ll be fun,” Sharee assured me.
“I feel like I’m eighty.”
“Whatever. Get your octogenarian ass in the shower and get ready.”
“Where’re we going?” I moaned.
“It’s a surprise.”
Pulling myself up off the couch and giving Sharee a grouchy look, I limped to my bedroom to get some clothes then hobbled into the bathroom. God, I was only twenty-two. I needed to start working out again. Yay.