Perfectly Fake ✓

00: preface

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COACH HANNAH CALLED me over as soon as the bell rang, indicating that the most fun lesson (physical education) was over and we should get changed. Thankfully, P.E was the last lesson of the day so all I had to do was go home.

I could taste the pizza rolls already.

"I don't understand why you're not competitive," Coach Hannah slapped me playfully on the arm, "you could've made a way higher score, Emile."

I chuckled, watching as Conrad whipped Elliot with a wet towel. Those two were going to get married one day and I better be the goddamn best man because I called it.

I may or may not have a bet going on with my soccer coach as well...

"Are you listening, Emile?" Coach Hannah touched my arm, startling me out of my reverie as I looked back at her before shaking my head.

"Sorry, Coach." I shrugged, pushing my hair out of my face. "But it's just a P.E lesson. I know I could've made a higher score but it's not exactly fun when people start to take the sodding - excuse my language - lesson as bloody - excuse my language - Olympics. I just want to compete against our rivals."

Coach Hannah shook her head, smiling but before she could say anything, Elliot and Conrad burst out of the changing rooms, arguing about one of them paying someone to do their homework.

It was probably Conrad.

"Bye, scone!" Elliot waved, shoving Conrad away as he tried to lick his cheek.

Well, that's disgusting.

I waved to them both before Coach Hannah spoke up.

"Let's go to my office, shall we?"

Oh, fuck. Not this again.

"Um, Coach I have-"

"I checked with Coach Walter - you don't have anything. Let's go?" She opened her door before I could respond.

I shook my head.

"Coach, my brother is probably waiting and-"

She came closer, sliding a hand across my neck before pulling me closer. "Just for a little bit, okay? I know how you guys talk about me. Aren't you glad I'm giving you my time?"

I tried to shake her off as gently as I could. Fuck. Please, someone, walk in. This will most definitely come to bite me on the arse if I pushed her back.

Why is this country so fucking weird? I should've stayed in England.

"Coach, please," I gently took her wrist in my grip and she tried to slide her hands down my shorts. "You can lose your job."

Not to mention that I didn't fucking consent to this. Bitch.

"And who'll tell?" She pulled me down for a kiss before sucking on my neck.

If Conrad and Elliot were in my place, they'd like this right? Why wasn't my body reacting to what she was doing? Why was I feeling this way?

I swear to God, if you cry, you might as well go hang. Or dig a hole and bury yourself in it.

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

Come one, Emile, think of it as if you're doing a plank. Just breathe through it. You can't do anything about it. All the blame will come on you. Just stay quiet and it'll be over soon. Think about the pizza rolls.

"Why are you not getting hard?" Her voice made me flinch before she tugged at my member harshly. "Come on, Emile. I know you're not gay."

I swallowed, looking up at the grey ceiling and blinked furiously.