Teaching Becomes Torture

•Part 9•

"Mitchell, what are you playing at!" Coach shouted across the pitch as Mitchell took his eyes off the ball and ended up kicking it to the wrong team.

"Give him a chance," I muttered under my breath.

"For fuck sake," he grumbled again and quickly stood up.

"What now?" I asked him.

"Mitchell's been tackled," he stated and stood up to go and find out if he was still fit to play.

As much as I wanted to go to Mitchell's reuse I knew I couldn't, it would end up badly and I couldn't risk my job or his spot on the football team.

Minutes later coach returned.

"He's fine, just a scratch but other than that he's fine," coach looked cheerful, unlike Mitchell who seemed to be taking his anger out on the ball as he kicked it with such power that the goalkeeper had no chance of saving it, endless he was to break at least a couple bones.

"That's my boy!" An almighty cheer cheer from beside me.

"You're either happy with him or your not," I groaned.

"I'm happy with all my players, I just have to teach them right from wrong," he smiled, trying to seem friendly.

"I'm gonna get going now anyway," I picked up my handbag and headed towards the gate to exit the pitch.

"There's only two minutes left anyway, we've won," he replied smirking, looking up at the score board above our heads which read 'home-3 away-1'

I ignored him and left to go to the changing rooms. By the time I'd reached the door the rest of the players were jogging my way, the game had finished.

"Hey miss," one of the football players from the away team slowed down his pace as he got to me.

"Yes?" I asked him, generally interested in what he had to say.

"How about I change your miss to my Mrs?" A smirk grew onto his face.

"Oi, get out of it," coach came up behind him and nudged him the opposite direction.

"Thanks," I smiled as the kid ran off with the rest of his mates.

"So, how about I take you for a drink tomorrow?" He came out with the question out of the blue.

"You know what, that sounds great," I was willing to do anything to take my mind off of Mitchell.

"Great, and I know you weren't to keen on going out so we could always go back to my place?" He winked.

"No, it's fine I'd rather go out," I looked away awkwardly, not sure what he was implying by that offer.

"I'll let you know more later on," he grinned before moving some loose strands of hair out of my face.

"See ya," I made a run for it, what on earth was he playing at!

****

"Love is in the air, everywhere I look around," I heard a sarcastic voice coming from behind me as I began walking home.

"Go home Mitchell," I attempted to loose him by crossing the road.

"So I see you and coach are getting cosy," he followed behind me.

"What's it to do with you," I replied harshly.

"Damnn I was only saying," his voice saddened in a way.

"Sorry," I mumbled and looked back at him as he plodded along.

"Why are you walking?" He changed the subject.

"I need a new car," I let out a deep sigh.

"I need a new life," he muttered.

"Mitch come on," I looked at him sympathetically.

"Well obviously I need coach's life, he gets to play football for a living, has all the money in the world," he began.

"You can get all that too if you keep trying," I tried to encourage him.

"But I can't get you," he stopped walking but kept eye contact with me.

"Let's not do this," I noticed he was half way down the road and headed back towards him.

"You liked it too, the sex," his eyes gazed down to my lips as he began to bite his own.

"Mitchell," I refused to look because it was such a turn on.

"I'm your teacher," I reminded him.

"And I'm Mitchell," he responded which made me chuckle.

"Whatever you think we have is non existent, I'll see you in class," I rested my head on his shoulder for a second before walking the opposite way and this time he didn't follow.

****

I returned home to find two text messages on my phone, one from Mitchell himself and the other from Frank, aka coach.

Unknown Number: 'It's Mitch, I got your number when you were sleeping, I'm sorry.'

Frank⚽️: 'I'll meet you at the bar up town tomorrow.'

Neither of the texts I responded to, I wasn't in the mood to talk, especially not to anyone of the opposite gender.

Men.

****
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