Beneath His Touch

Chapter Eight

JAVAN

"Well, Mr. JJ," Oloo says, dropping his documents onto the desk with a decisive thud. He clasps his hands together and fixes his gaze on me, his voice deep and unwavering. "It seems there is only one way out of this situation. You have no choice but to retake the entire unit."

"Is that so?" I reply, picking up the scattered files and flipping through them. "Can't I just wait for the paper?"

"You know that's not how we operate here in N.C., my boy. You must physically attend the class and sign in for attendance marks. I mean, this unit wasn't all that boring, was it?"

"It's not that," I say, trying to keep my tone respectful, though frustration simmers beneath the surface. "I understand the entire unit already. Attending the class would just be tedious." Honestly, all I wanted was to retake the exam or simply pay for a passing mark. It's not like I missed it willingly; I was representing the school in a match.

"Listen, son," he replies, shifting back in his seat with an air of authority, "just go in, sign the attendance sheet, and leave the class."

I grip the papers behind me, my irritation rising. "That's not the issue, sir. The finals will be starting at eight, and mine is at six."

He simply stares at me, unfazed. "I know you can handle this, Mr. JJ." A smile spreads across his face as he crosses his legs comfortably and pulls out his iPad. "If you'll excuse me, I have an online class to attend."

I hesitate for a moment, inhaling deeply as I exhale slowly, fighting to control the tide of anger rising within me. It's no secret that Oloo despises me. The reasons are painfully clear: I'm the son of Jonathan Odhiambo, a politician whose very name seems to irk him. Rumor has it they attended the same school, and while my father grew up in privilege, basking in opportunities that Oloo never had, it's obvious that Oloo has taken a personal interest in undermining me. I've become his target, a living reminder of everything he resents. But here's the kicker: I'm genuinely talented—academic achievements, athletic prowess—so he's always on the lookout for weaknesses to exploit, and it drives me to the brink of fury.

With a determined stride, I exit the office, shoving my anger down deep. I can practically see him plotting in that smug little mind of his, no doubt whispering to the lecturer about keeping a hawk-eyed watch on my attendance. His suggestion that I simply sign in and leave? It's a trap, plain and simple. His aim is to hold me back, to spin a narrative that could damage my father's reputation—'The son who couldn't graduate due to missing classes.' That would be the cherry on top of his campaign agenda, a scandal he could wield like a weapon.

I rub my nose in frustration as I gaze down the bustling hallway. Students mill about, chattering and laughing as they file into classrooms. It's been three days since the new students arrived, and I need to collect the application files for the new recruits. The number of applicants is significant; many are eager to join our ranks.

With one final curse muttered under my breath, I turn and leave. Still cursing underneath

"How did it go?" Elly asks as I take a seat beside Stanley, who is glued to his laptop, engaged in a heated match against Steve.

"How did you expect it to go? Damn that dean," I reply, exhaling a heavy sigh laced with frustration as I fling the papers onto the table with a sharp motion.

Elly scoffs, a knowing look in his eyes. "You and that guy are going to square off one of these days," he says, shaking his head. He picks up his phone and begins texting furiously, likely crafting some strategy for their ongoing match.

I lean back in my chair, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"Hey men..." Victor walks in, "heard the news yet?" he smiles broadly.

"Which club has the hottest new girls?" Steve asks, his attention still glued to his game.

"The tennis club! I heard they have twenty new recruits!" he shouts, clapping his hands excitedly. "Let's go, they're training right now!" He starts pulling us along, shutting off the screen, which visibly irritates Steve and Stanley.

"You do know all of us here have girlfriends, right? Well, apart from JJ," Elly reminds him.

"Oh, her? We broke up when I found out new talent was joining campus," he replies, his tone carefree as he drags us out.

The tennis training court isn't far from ours—just a few blocks away. As we approach, the sound of sneakers clicking against the tiled floor fills the air, punctuated by the sharp whistle of Coach Harriet. She's wearing a black and green training vest paired with sleek black track pants.

"Pick up the pace!" she bellows, her voice cutting through the din of the training session. "Is that all you've got?"

"Would you look at that," Victor chuckles, dropping a hand on my shoulder. "I told you there would be plenty of eye candy."

He's not wrong. At least fifteen girls are engaged in shuttle runs, all of them the kind of thick, sexy that turns heads. Among them is Liz, who spots us and strides over.

"Guys, she's coming our way," Victor whispers, laughter in his voice.

Liz and I share a complicated history. We dated in high school, both applying to the same university, but our relationship crumbled when I started to gain attention. She suspected I was unfaithful, a claim that infuriated me, especially since she later retaliated by sleeping with my former captain. It was a chaotic first and second year for me, marred by jealousy and broken trust.

"Hi," she greets, but I ignore her, my gaze honing in on my true target. I've been searching for her for days, the girl who eluded me twice already. I never got her name, but she's a wildcat, and I owe Victor for spotting her during practice.

My eyes are drawn to her sweaty chest, the soaked white training kit clinging to her curves, revealing a visible pink bra beneath. As the girls take a break, she drops to the ground to grab her water bottle.

Ah, damn it. This feels so wrong. Why am I so fixated on her? I can't seem to tear my gaze away.

"What are you staring at?" Liz asks, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"The pink bra," Victor laughs. "You've been eyeing her for a while now. She looks familiar." He strokes his chin thoughtfully, trying to place her. "Hey, Elly," he calls to the others, "what about that girl?"

She notices us; her friend points us out. I watch as she hesitates, glancing our way before striding toward the exit, grabbing her bag as she goes.

"Catch you later, guys," I say, slightly pushing Victor aside as I take a different route. I'm not about to let this wildcat escape my grasp.

"Hey!" I call out, quickening my pace as I jog after her. "Can you wait a second?"

"As you can see, I'm ignoring you," she snaps, quickening her step. But I manage to grab her hand, abruptly pulling her to face me. The anger in her brown eyes makes my breath catch, stunning me momentarily. She wrenches her hand free.

"I don't want to talk to you," she snarls, a fire igniting in her gaze.

"Is there a problem?" Jerry appears, his expression curious. I exhale sharply, locking eyes with him. "Sarah, is everything okay?"