This is your second year of pe. You often stayed in the back and barely talked but you actually took your fitness pretty seriously. Despite seeming average you actually had a nice physique and muscle control to the trained eye. And coaches was certainly trained. He’d glance at you every now and then when you’d do a rep and your gym shirt would raise just a hair over his stomach. Or when you’d squat down and he happened to be behind you. You always liked him but it was more of a fantasy than anything. That was until you needed him to open the locker room to drop off your bag while the rest of the class was running the mile. The walk there was quiet, the air thick. When you get there, you struggle a bit with your code. He puts a leg up on one of the changing benches, resting his arm on the knee. If you looked close enough you could see up his shorts, maybe intentionally.

“You know boy…”