The sound of the lecturer educating the students was loud but distant to Persha.
He was lost in thought.
He didn’t even hear the bell ring signaling the end of the lecture till Baylee was tapping him on his shoulder.
“Hey, Persh, you okay?” Baylee asks.
“Huh?
Yeah…
yeah, I am.
Why?” he replies, breaking out of his trance.
“Lecture’s over,” Baylee points out.
He watches Persha look around, an “oh” forming on his lips as he grabs his bag.
“You sure you’re okay, Persha?” Baylee asks again.
“Yes, I am, Baylee.
I’m heading to practice.
I’d see you in the dorm,” he says, bidding goodbye and leaving.
Baylee stares at his back for a while before continuing his journey to the library.
***
“That’s it, two more laps and we’d go into today’s drills,” the coach calls out.
Persha stops his drills, walking towards the coach.
“Coach,” he greets, flinging an arm around his shoulders.
“Persha, you’re sweaty,” the coach says, escaping Persha’s hold.
“Oh, sorry,” he says.
“Coach, I think we should change our lineup for the finals,” Persha says.
“The current lineup is weak against the Eagles,” he adds, watching the coach think it over.
“Why’d you think that?” the coach asks.
“The Eagles are a team of large players.
Their defense is great, and their offense even greater.
Our players are decently sized too, but we need a few players to match up on offense, or we’d get outmatched,” he explains, bringing out his planned formation.
The coach doesn’t say anything as he analyses the plays and analytics Persha has mapped out.
“Von would be a good pointer.
His size would really be a great addition.
He’s fast also.
Then we substitute Benson for Tyric.
I think you know why.
I remain as the power forward and ace of the team.
Christopher and Roland remain.
The rest can be used as substitute players.
That balances out our defense and offense,” Persha explains expertly.
The coach thinks it over for a while.
“It’s true, against the Eagles our offense is weak.
If we’re going to be picking players with more offensive power, Roland should be substituted for Matthew.”
Persha is quiet for a while, visualizing the plays in his head.
“That works…
yeah,” he says.
“Okay, boys, gather around,” the coach calls out.
They were done with the laps, most of them resting and getting ready for the drills.
They quickly huddle around Persha and the coach. Get faster updates on g.com.
“Okay…
the lineup for the finals has to change.
If you’re removed from the lineup, you’re automatically a substitute,” the coach says, pausing for a while and watching them process the new information.
“Von would replace Steve, Benson replace Tyric, and Matthew replace Roland,” he calls out.
There were a few groans here and there.
The coach quickly intervenes before it turns into an argument.
“If you’re smart, you should have picked up on the new play by now,” he says, watching them all quiet down.
“The big guys for a stronger team power, get it?” Christopher explains.
The rest of the team mumbles in agreement, deeming it a good idea.
“Come on, guys, for the team,” Persha says, his voice loud.
“We are bringing home that trophy!”
The court is filled with shouts of encouragement and hype before the coach dismisses them to begin their drills.
***
He heads to his dorm, heading to the exit of his department gate, when he sees construction workers at the exit.
The exit had been blocked.
“You can’t pass there.
It’s under construction.
Before you come to the building tomorrow, it would have been fixed,” a student he doesn’t recognize says to him.
Might be a student from another department from the way she’s dressed.
“Oh…
okay.
How do I leave then?” he says, gesturing towards the exit.
“I’m sorry, you’d have to go back up, go through the Art Department section, and use their exit,” she says, that smile still on her face.
“Uggghh,” he groans, exhausted from training.
He leaves nonetheless and takes the Art Department route.
As he walks through their corridors towards the exit, a group of art students try to haul a container of paint.
He doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings as the container tumbles over.
He gasps, eyes going wide as he braces himself for impact, but it never comes.
He looks up, his eyes widening in shock.
Zabi had shielded him.
Her hair was dripping paint.
Clothes, fingers, everything.
“Oh no…
President, we’re so sorry.
We didn’t mean to,” the students rush over, apologizing for their clumsiness.
She doesn’t reply, her eyes still glued on Persha.
He had taken out his towel from his bag, wiping at her hair and body.
“Something bad is always happening…” he whispers to himself, guilt eating at him.
“You can leave,” Zabi says as the students scurry away.
“You’ve got paint on you,” she says.
Persha looks at her.
“I’m not the one doused in paint,” he says, looking around.
“Is there a place we could clean this off?”
Zabi takes the towel from him, wiping her fingers with it.
“Yeah…
They step into the room.
Persha drops his bag on the floor, running his hands through his hair.
“We can’t get everything off.
You’d need to take a bath, but let’s stop the dripping,” he says, walking around like he knows where she kept her towel.
He eventually finds it, walking back to her.
He catches her staring, his face growing hot from her stare.
“What?
…
You always stare at me like you have something to say,” he says, wiping at her hair, chest, and shoulders.
“Do you think I’m cursed?
…
Good, because I think I am too,” he adds.
It was silent for a while till he feels gentle hands on his face.
“You have paint on your face,” she says, her voice raspy from whispering.
“Oh…
thank you…
again,” he says.
It’s quiet for a few seconds, him wiping at her body while she just stares at him.
The conversation with Baylee and Elena replays in his head.
Here she was, standing right in front of him.
“Zabi,” he calls her, dropping the towel he’s holding.
“Do you…
like me?”
There it was.
It was finally out.
He doesn’t take his eyes off her, trying his best to read her expression.
“Yes.”
He doesn’t expect it.
Sure, she was going to say something, but admitting it just like that.
So he presses further.
If she wouldn’t make the move, he would.
It might seem desperate, but he doesn’t care.
He wanted the woman in front of him, and he’s going to get her.
“Do you…
want to…
kiss me?” he asks, nervously biting his lip, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Yes.”
He gasps.
“What are you waiting for then?” he whispers out, his heart thumping against his chest, and in one swift motion, she’s diving in, capturing his lips.
None of them were drugged or drunk this time.
His hands hold her face, requesting she goes deeper, and she does, deepening the kiss.
Her hands hold his neck in place as she devours him.
They pull away almost at the same time, Persha catching his breath while she stares at him, trying to collect himself.
“We need to talk.”
Oof..Steamy..How do you like this chapter?
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