Locker 142

8

(Jake)

Santiago stared at Greyson with contempt. I forgot about what he had did to him earlier. Greyson had slapped him on the ass and no one embarrasses Santiago Ganzeu, even if you were just joking.
He gripped him up by the collar and shoved him against the lockers, "Do you just think you can walk around here, looking like the best man in the world?"
Greyson looked down at him, "Yeah. I do, actually..."
Santiago got pissed off and socks him in the face. "How would you like it if I broke a few bones in your body?" he asked coldly as he backslapped him in the face.
I stood there in silence as I watched what was happening. He wasn't going to beat him up, was he?
Santiago finally let go of him, when Greyson had trouble breathing. He turns to me and puts a hand on my shoulder, "Come on, let's get out of here, before I kill this dude."
I walked out of the locker room with Santiago. He seemed so upset and I didn't know what to do, "Hey. He's not worth it." I said in a soft voice.
He glances back at me and smiles, "You're presence alone cheers me up," he said, "You don't even have to try."
He chuckles loudly and I got confused. I yelled at him playfully, "What is it, now?! Is it something on my face?"
He catches his breath and answers, "Why is it whenever I give you a compliment that you blush?"
I grazed the back of my hand on my cheek. He was right. It felt like I was burning up!
"I don't know," I replied, "It's a natural reaction."
We both walk to our seats and Mr. Ricky blew his whistle.
He wanted everyone to line up and get ready for warm ups.
When we started, it felt like light work. As we progressed, everything felt hard on my body. When we finished, it felt like I would collapse on the floor. My legs felt like jelly and I stumbled as I walked to the bleachers.
This kid had a fat roll of money in his pocket and I had the misfortune of being caught eyeing him. He called me over and I reluctantly walked over.
He was Daniel Banks and he was known to have the biggest chain of merchants in the city. "It's kind of dangerous to be caught carrying all that money." I said with a cautious voice.
He responded, "That's none of your concern, is it?"
He shooed me off. He had so much money in his pocket and I could use a few hundred to by my school supplies. I looked at his pocket and looked back at his face and took a deep breath before speaking, "I will do you a favor if you pay me that entire wad of cash in your pocket."
He turns to me, seemingly interested, "I know exactly what you should do for me."
The tone in his voice sounded off and suspicious. He then said, "Dance."
I was puzzled by his request so I asked him to further explain. He chuckles, "Since my foot is broken and I can't participate in class, I need to have some entertainment," he looked at me with a fierce look on his face, "I want you to dance over my lap."
I go speechless. I managed to fumble, "L-like give you a l-lap dance?"
He nodded and looked up at me, "So, what's it going to be? Do you want your money?"
He pulls at his pocket, teasingly, knowing that I wanted that money.
I knew that I needed that money, so I did as he asked my to; I danced on top of him. I pushed my body against his. I pushed my back against his crotch.
He was smiling with delight as I did this. I popped a squat and stood up quickly in front of him. He clapped with enjoyment and tapped my back, urging me to do more.
I turn around to face him and I sit on his lap and I look him in the eyes, while gently grinding.
I finally stand up and say, "Where's my money?"
He reaches into his pocket and hands me a wad of cash, "You're such a peach."
I turn around to walk away and he slaps me on the behind.
It kind of hurt a little bit. I wish his hands were broken instead of his foot.
I looked at the rest of the class and they all seemed fine and everyone was doing their own thing. Some people were playing basketball, others were playing soccer.
My Santiago was a master soccer player. He would always win, but something seemed off. He looked upset and distracted. It looked like somebody had hurt him. Santiago sat on the bleachers and started scrolling on his phone. I approach him and ask, "What happened out there? You love soccer."
He sighs sadly, "It's nothing."
It was clearly something and I wasn't going to have his act, "It's not nothing! Tell me what happened!"
He raised his voice at me, "I don't want to talk about it!"
He stormed off into the hallway and headed to the water fountain.
He rinsed his face and wiped the water away with his shirt.
I followed closely behind him, "Why won't you tell me what happened?"
He groans in annoyance, "You really don't get it do you?"
I look at him with confusion. he looks down at me with disbelief, "You don't know what you did?!"
I remained silent. At the moment, I didn't know what to say.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me into a storage closet.