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“Whatever you want,” Cornell said. He wasn’t very hungry anyway.
“Long day?”
Cornell ran a hand over his face before wrapping an arm around her as they walked side by side to the parking lot. “You could say that.”
Mowgli trotted in front of them, and Cornell called out for him to slow down. He was reaching for his keys when he heard Ali whisper sharply from beside him.
“Oh, my god.”
Cornell looked up at his car, finding nothing wrong with it. He glanced to the left, a little further down and squinted at Graham’s silver truck as he opened the door and climbed in, quickly and heavily shutting it behind him.
“I’ll be there Wednesday, Coach,” Graham said, rolling down the window. “I hope you don’t mind having this parked outside your house.” Quickly, he put the car into drive and pulled out of his spot, but not quick enough that Cornell couldn’t see what had been keyed into the driver’s side door—rapist.
* * *
“Do you have mustard?” Graham asked, bringing the raw burgers out to the grill.
Cornell shut the grill. “In the fridge. But I thought you might want them cooked first.”
Graham placed the burgers on the table. “A swipe of mustard before grilling will give them a nice sear and no sticking.”
“Go grab it.” Cornell motioned at the screen door behind him. In front of him, the yard was nearly full as a bunch of players set up the folding tables and chairs Cornell had borrowed from the school, the rest of them goofing off with Mowgli, who was confused as to why there were so many people in his space.
Graham returned to Cornell’s side. “I don’t mind taking over here if you want.”
Cornell shook his head, reaching for the bag of burgers. “I didn’t have you come here to be my sous chef. Go. Be with your teammates.”
Graham stalled next to him for a moment before stepping off the patio and onto the grass, his hands pocketed, his stance uncomfortable, picking up one of Mowgli’s tennis balls. He remained awkwardly apart from the group, but Cornell smiled from behind the grill when he saw Julian move across the lawn and approach Graham.
That’s the kind of guy you need to be, Graham, Cornell wanted to tell him. That’s why he’ll lead this team. There was some laughter as a bunch of players tried their hardest to make a pyramid with the team’s heaviest player at the top. Mowgli nervously circled, barking at them.
Cornell smirked. “One of you clowns help me get these on buns. Let’s eat.”
And eat they did. Cornell was happy he decided to buy more than he planned on because by the time everyone finished, there wasn’t much left over, but he managed to make a plate for Ali. He went inside to wrap it up and grab more trash bags when he heard it—her laugh.
Ali sat on the counter, still in her yoga leggings, eating the remainder of the salad from the serving bowl, her attention half focused on the greens and half focused on Graham beside her.
She laughed again.
An uncomfortable feeling grew in Cornell, a swell of something he couldn’t identify right away. But as he continued to watch the way Graham looked at her—as if she wasn’t his academic adviser, as if he wasn’t a guest in their home. It was the way Graham was leaning against the counter, how his green eyes were narrowed, focused on her face, how his tongue slipped out to wet his lips he then pressed hard together.
Cornell then recognized the foreign, uncomfortable feeling—protective jealousy. He might catch a remark about Ali every now and then from his players who didn’t intend him to hear. But those he could let slide because of their light and innocent nature. Because she’s fucking beautiful, and I’ve been a young dude before. But actions speak louder than words. And in his silence, Graham was looking at Ali like she was something up for grabs.
Cornell strode smoothly into the kitchen, dropping the plate beside her, and bending to catch her mouth in a kiss, his hand squeezing her waist. “Saved you a burger.”
He smiled at Ali’s widened eyes as he pulled away. Her eyes drifted quickly over to Graham. Cornell could practically hear her thinking not in front of a student, Cornell.
With his free hand and without breaking Ali’s gaze, Cornell tossed a roll of garbage bags to Graham. “Take these out there for me and start picking up trash.”
“Yeah, uh, sure,” Graham said, fiddling with his hat before heading out back.
Ali’s eyes narrowed as she watched him walk away beyond Cornell’s shoulder. “Were you about to have a pissing contest with a nineteen-year-old?”
“Don’t flatter him. He’s just a kid.”
