AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m making pancakes. Want some?” she asks.
I shake my head, grabbing my travel mug and pouring coffee into it. “Wish I could, but I need to head out now.”
And I really do wish I could. Alexis makes sick pancakes. Last time she put bananas, chocolate chips and peanut butter in them. I ate them for like a week straight. It’s a good thing she practically lives here now since she and my roommate, Harrison, have become quite serious. And must I say, he did good. Not only because of the pancake thing, she’s also hot. I take a sneaky little glance as she reaches up to the cupboard, and Harrison’s t-shirt rides up just enough to show the bottom of her underwear.
“More for me,” Harrison says, entering the kitchen and wrapping his arms around Alexis’ waist.
Speaking of hot… I subtly check out Harrison’s ass as well on my way to the fridge for coffee cream. Dude has a great ass, and he knows it. But sadly, he’s not into dick. Found that out the hard way when I tried to pick him up in a bar. He said he was straight, we laughed about it, drank, found out we both needed roommates, and the rest is history. He’s a cool guy and a sick roommate, so I guess it all worked out for the best. Plus, that whole don’t fuck where you sleep thing. Wait, no, that’s not right. You would fuck where you sleep… Whatever, it all worked out.
“Well, you guys have a good day,” I say as I grab my keys and head towards the door.
“See ya!” Harrison calls from the kitchen, and I hear Alexis giggling as she makes pancakes while he kisses her neck. Ah, young love.
I hop into my Jeep and turn the heat on, as the November air is turning chilly. While I wait for my Jeep to warm up, I scroll through my phone to find some tunes that will improve my mood and set the tone for, hopefully, a good day. My lips tilt up in a smile as I land on nineties rock. If that doesn’t help even a little bit, then I really should have called in sick.
By the time I pull into the parking lot at work, rocking out to Two Princes by The Spin Doctors, I feel like I can push my sorrowful feelings away and just enjoy the day. And as I make my way towards the school, my mood lifts even more as some of the kids wave to me from the playground.
“Mr. Mitchell!” one of the boys, Emerson, calls to me after sliding down the slide. “What happened??”
“Did you get in a fight?” another boy asks.
One of the girls shakes her head. “He fights in a cage!”
“You do??” Emerson asks with wide eyes.
I chuckle, shifting my backpack on my shoulder, while cautiously glancing at the teacher supervising the playground this morning. Mrs. Wentzel is a hardass and is not my biggest fan. Not only because I’ve come to work with a black eye a few times, but she also doesn’t believe that teaching Physical Education makes me a real teacher. But she should have retired like twenty years ago, so her opinions are outdated. She gives me a disapproving look and I turn my attention back to the kids.
“Yeah, I do fight in a cage. But it’s a sport, so not a bad fight. And no,” I say as Emerson opens his mouth to ask a question, “we’re not doing it in Phys. Ed.”
“Aw, man!” He throws his hands in the air, pulling a laugh from me.
“See you soon,” I say, turning away to head into the school and get the gym set up for the day. I have his class third period, so I’m sure there will be a lot more questions.
Just as I reach the gym, I hear footsteps behind me.
“Luca!”
I stop and close my eyes for a moment, before slapping on a smile and turning around to face the principal of the school.
She sighs as her eyes roam over my face. “I hope you have a plausible explanation for the kids.”
I shrug and take a sip of my coffee. “Sport.”
She raises her eyebrows. “And what is that teaching them?”
“That a bump and bruise is not the end of the world, and avoiding passions to live in a bubble of complete safety is not real life?” I smile sweetly at her.
She shakes her head slightly, but I see a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’ll never understand this sport.” She turns to leave, but glances over her shoulder. “And from what I hear, you did a good job. So, congrats.”
I offer her a weak smile with a thanks and turn to push the gym door open. There goes my mood again. Congrats. For what? I know she’s just being nice and doesn’t know any better, but damn. Ouch.
The frustration and sadness nags at me as I flop into the chair in my office, and check my e-mails. And no matter what I do, it just keeps seeping in, reminding me that I lost my chance at my dream this weekend.
I look out into the gym and sigh. I love this job. I love teaching. But I was ready to make the move. From the first day I learned what MMA was, I have been working towards fighting in the UFC. And the next step to make that happen is to train with a professional fighter and coach in an elite training gym.
It was in the palm of my fucking hand.
And now what? Now what am I working towards? I know I can still achieve this goal in time, but it just pisses me off that Ty fucking Roscoe is going to be a step ahead. While I’m still here…
