“Yes!”
“It's a damn crime that she’s been on the bench for so long. It really is. She has the most potential I've seen in a player since...since...well, since I coached you all those years ago.”
“I know. She really does, and she really did us proud today.”
“Like you, Vinson, I think she could get to the top. I'm talking Olympics, Vinson, Olympics! Then the pro circuit. Just like you!”
“That's what I'm hoping for, too, Cal. I really am.”
We paused the conversation for a bit to sip on our beers. I wondered how I could steer the topic away from volleyball and more toward student-teacher relationships at the university without making anything too obvious.
“Cal, tell me about your coaching days. I mean...what was life like on the campus back when you first started there? You know, when you were a young man.”
“Hmm, well, I suppose it wasn't much different to how it is now. Of course, there weren't all them fancy gadgets and phones and computers and stuff, and I seem to remember kids spending a lot more time in the libraries back then instead of on computers.
“But that was back in the late ’70s and early ’80s, and I mean, the whole country was different back then. You know, we had just come out of Vietnam, where I served, you know, and...”
I listened to him go on and on, recounting stories about his early days at the University, and his time in Vietnam. It wasn't that I wasn't interested — he was telling me some pretty fascinating stuff — but I really was anxious to find out about the student-teacher relationship thing. I let him continue with his stories, but when there was a break in the conversation, I jumped in.
“Sounds like you had a real interesting time over those years there. I was wondering, though, what about the gossip side of things? You must have had some juicy stories to tell, right? I mean, did any professors, you know, get it on with their students and get caught?”
I asked about professors specifically because I knew if I mentioned coaches and players, he might figure that something was up with me.
He chuckled. “Ha ha! Well sure, it happened a few times. In fact, one guy I knew, he was a history professor. He ended up dating one of his graduate students.”
“Really, huh? And what happened with that?”
“Oh well, they had to keep things secret, real quiet. But they're married now, and have been for about 20 years! So I guess it was the right thing for them to do. Ya know, true love and all that.”
“And, he's still at Florida State?”
“Oh, hell no. When they discovered that he was dating his student, the university offered the pair of them the following choices: they could end their relationship immediat
ely, or if they refused, either he had to resign from his post or she had to quit her degree.”
My heart sank. “So the policy was definitely against them.”
“Oh yeah. I mean, that's how it is in pretty much any university. It's a damned stupid thing to do, to get involved with one of the students.
“I mean, I get it. Hell, I'm a red-blooded male, I see all that ripe, young flesh struttin' around in skimpy outfits, I had plenty a'…how shall we say, impure thoughts about some a' them young women, but I never crossed the line, never. Not once.
“There's a big difference between fantasy and acting on it. And them's the rules! And you stick by 'em because that's how it is.”
“So, uh, what happened with this history professor and his student?”
“Oh, that guy? Well, he resigned. Got lucky and found a post at Florida West University, so it all worked out. She finished up at Florida State, they got engaged, and it ended happily ever after. But it was very lucky that he managed to find that other post.”
“Yeah, I guess it was,” I replied. “I guess it was.”
We talked for another hour about this and that, Cal told me a few more stories, but all the while, I couldn’t stop thinking about Eryn and that kiss.
I drove home from the restaurant feeling dejected. It seemed the policy was, for sure, absolutely no romantic relationships allowed between students and staff members, whether they were coaches, professors, or anything else.
I didn't know what was going to happen between Eryn and me. In fact, I didn't even know how to begin to talk about it. I hadn't heard from her, and I didn't really know what to say to her even if I had.
I knew that, technically, what we had done had constituted crossing a very strictly-drawn line and, in terms of that, yes, it was wrong. But at the same time, I couldn't help feeling that it had been so, so right.
I had felt it; she had felt it. The unspoken words that had passed between us as we'd kissed had proven that it was something we had both wanted. And I had no clue how we could continue to deny the attraction, the pull, the feelings.