"You think I can't have fun?" Ethan barged into my classroom that Monday, in the middle of my seventh period, and all of my students looked over at him. Ethan folded his arms as he approached me, staring down at me as he spoke. "You think I've got a stick up my arse, don't you?"
I glanced around awkwardly. "This isn't the best time—"
"Give me some clay," He interrupted.
I narrowed my eyes. "What?"
"Teach me how to do whatever the hell you do in this class," He continued, scratching his beard and looking around at the awestruck students. "And don't make it a big deal, yeah? I'm just here to prove a point, nothing else."
It took me a minute to register what he was saying, but when it hit me I grinned. "Oh. I'll be right with you, Coach."
He scoffed and went over to the wheels, so I finished helping Zach with his slab piece on his desk.
Zach wasn't focused anymore, though. Instead, he constantly looked over at Ethan, a confused look on his face.
I giggled. "Zach?"
He didn't pull his eyes away from Ethan. "Yeah?"
"Are you good now? Or do I need to explain it again?"
"I'm good," He looked back at his desk and I noticed him smirking. "He's been my coach for three years, and I've never seen him talk to a teacher as much as he talks to you. Besides maybe Coach Minter."
I raised an eyebrow.
Maybe he didn't hate me that much after all.
"That's good news," I stood. "Apparently, he wants to learn how to use the wheel, so I'll be over there if you need anything else."
"Okay."
I smiled before walking away, grabbing two aprons from their hooks next to my desk and handing one to Ethan. He sat down on one of the stools after he tied the apron on and muttered something under his breath.
"What was that?" I asked as I tied my hair up in a messy bun.
"Nothing," He let out a sigh.
My smile faded slightly, and I prayed he didn't notice. "Look, if you don't want to do this just say so."
"I'm the one that came in here," He shrugged, a light smirk coming onto his face. "So teach me."
"So you're not mad about last night?"
"How could I say mad at you, Princess?"
I frowned, glancing around to see if any students had heard that. It didn't seem like they did, so I looked back at him. "Why do you call me that?"
"One, because I know it bothers you," He chuckled and I cursed, hating that he'd figured that out without me telling him. "Two, because you remind me of what I'd imagine a princess would look and act like."
"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not."
He shrugged. "Take it how you will."
"Then it doesn't bother me," I filled a tub of water and set some clay down on the wheel in front of him. "It's just the opposite, babe. It's endearing."
That comment got us some weird looks, and Ethan sighed.
"Fair play. Let's just get this done before practice, yeah?" He sat up straight and I came over to him, getting the small sponge wet and setting up his wheel.
"Okay. So, you want your clay to stick to the center of the wheel, and to do that you kind of throw it on," I pressed into the clay and rolled it into a bal, kneading it to get all of the air out before slamming it onto the center of the wheel, causing some water to splatter. "Then, get your hands wet so the friction doesn't burn your hands, and position your elbows on the inside of your legs. Lean forward and hold your hands like this to put pressure on it."
He did as I asked, and I reached over and grabbed his hands, positioning them correctly on the clay.
I swear, if only for a moment, I felt him tense at my touch.
"Don't get handsy, Wright," He cleared his throat and looked into my eyes. "You're lucky I decided to do this."
I backed away with a smirk on my face. "Alright."
I watched as he spun the clay on the wheel, and I'll be completely honest. It was the most attractive he'd ever looked since I'd met him. The way he seemed so focused on what he was doing, and the way he was careful in his movements as his large hands sculpted the clay.
I bit my lip, trying to clear my head.
The bell rang, so he stopped what he was doing and looked over at me. "I should go."
I nodded, blushing and turning away from him. The classroom was empty at that point. "Okay. Have fun."
He stood and shook off his hands, but misjudged how much wet clay was on them and splattered us both in the face with some.
His eyes widened and he looked from his hands, to my face, back to his hands.
"Uh...sorry?"
I giggled, wiping some off of my cheek with my hand. "It's alright. I've made bigger messes."
"You've still got some on your nose," He reached up to wipe it away but stopped himself, cringing. "Shit, that's weird, innit?"
I blushed with a smile. "I'd go wash off before practice, Coach. You're a mess."
He nodded and stepped away, untying his apron and laying it down on my desk.
"You should stop by my class tomorrow," He shrugged, but he looked almost hesitant to ask. "It'd be interesting to see how you fare in a weights class."
"You know what, sure. Since you went out of your comfort zone, I'll go out of mine."
He smirked at that. "Great."
*****
Boy was that a mistake. The fact that Mr Minter was also in the classroom made things a little better, but not much.
"Rebecca?" Simon came over to me with a raised eyebrow. He was extremely tall, and he loomed over me as I glanced around awkwardly. "What are you doing here?"
"You know, I'm not sure," I bit my lip, looking for Ethan but not finding him. I wasn't exactly wearing active clothes. I had on plaid pants and a black shirt tucked in, and my long hair hung over my shoulders in curls. "This isn't going to be fun for me, is it?"
"Based on things Ethan's said about you, probably not," Simon chuckled but I frowned.
"Please don't let him kill me," I pleaded. "Do you think he'll spare me if I tell him I've got asthma?"
"Probably not," He admitted. He looked down at me. "Is it true what he said? That you're his fake girlfriend?"
My eyebrows jumped up at that. "He actually tells you things?"
"Well I'd hope my friend would tell me things," He smiled. "Trust me, it took months to get close to the lad. He doesn't trust easily, I'll tell you that much."
"Any suggestions?"
"Well, we bonded over coaching the same team. I remember we went to the championships that year."
I sighed. "All hope is lost."
"You don't like football?"
"I don't mind it, I just don't pay attention much."
Ethan strode in as the bell rang, clapping loudly to get the students' attention. I jumped and bumped into Simon, who chuckled.
"Alright! Today we're going to work on proper stretching techniques before you lift," Ethan stated. His voice was louder due to the echo of the gym. "Since I've pulled a muscle whilst running this weekend, I've got a volunteer to demonstrate for me."
"Wait, what?" I blushed. "Why can't Mr Minter do it?"
Simon looked down at me and answered for him. "I'm not meant to be doing any physical activity for a week."
Ethan had the worst smirk on his face, so I decided to mess with him.
"You just want to see me bent over, Coach, don't you?"
The students didn't even appreciate my sick comeback, and instead all turned their heads to see Ethan's reaction. His jaw clenched, but he decided not to let it get to him and chuckled instead.
"You'd be so lucky, Princess," He winked at me and I cursed, hating that I let the nickname get on my nerves.
Simon frowned at that, looking between the two of us but not saying anything.
"You're lucky I'm not wearing jeans," I made my way over from next to Simon and towards Ethan, standing next to him. "Try to be professional about this."
"Shouldn't be a problem," He grabbed my hips and positioned me in front of him, earning the nastiest glare I'd ever given anyone in my life.
This was going to be humiliating.