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Last up was Jerry—History and soccer—who explained that coffee should always be drunk black, and that Oscar was a moron, cue laughing and innocent friendly banter.
I loved it.
Almost as much as I loved last night.
The conversation flowed, filled with stories from their classrooms and the shared experiences only fellow teachers could fully understand, but with every one, they pulled me into the conversation, and as the evening wore on, I relaxed into maybe another small friendship group. Chris was next to me, our thighs together, and every time he made a point, he touched my arm, and it waseverything. His laughter was infectious, and it was easy to forget the worries of the day when he was around.
At one point, he was getting me to talk about my plans for the diner, and something unspoken passed between us, when I blushed at the praise he heaped on me, a connection that was startling… exciting. I enjoyed his company, how his smile could light up even the most mundane of moments, and how, moment by moment, I was falling for him.
Maddie, in her animated science teacher way, was currently recounting her latest classroom experiment gone awry, laughing out loud at the unexpected fire that had cleared the entire lab. Oscar, explaining there were never any fires in his math class earned a kiss from Maddie, which was how I found out they were a couple. Jerry and Chris were debating the merits of classic literature over modern works, and I swear, I’d never heard anything as sexy as Chris going all defensive about his love of Milton.
This quiet corner, away from the boisterous energy of karaoke and the small dance floor was heaven, and with my back to the main door, I could people watch to my heart’s content. Even though the bar hummed with energy, the five of us were able to talk. I liked Chris’s friends, and more important I felt as if they liked me back, even if the only story I could give them was the one about an exploding mac ‘n’ cheese that Fox had tried to microwave, which somehow Maddie found hilarious, laughing for at least a minute, tears rolling down her face. At which point, Jerry and Oscar went up to sing a broken version of an old Queen song and we made fun of their awful singing but were the first to clap with exaggerated enthusiasm when they took a bow.
“So, karaoke?” Chris asked.
I gave an exaggerated shudder. “No way. You go. But me? I’ll just sit here and judge everyone else’s singing if that’s okay.”
He chuckled and made no move to leave for the small stage in the corner. “Thank god!” He sipped his sparkling water, fancied up with slices of fruit and an umbrella to match Maddie’s piña colada. “If I was up there, you’d see why I hold a world record in the number of wrong notes in one song.”
“A world record eh?”
Chris had leaned in, so I’d hear him better over raucous clapping, and he was so close, if one of us moved a little further, we’d be kissing.
Did I want to kiss Chris in public? What if people talked and caused trouble? After all, this was where Pastor McKenna had a church.
Hell yes, I did. I wanted to throw caution to the wind, mash my lips to his—but in a sexy way—taste him, drink him in. I wanted to be the one to start, I think I did, but Maddie throwing herself into the booth on the other side of me broke the connection, and instead, Chris and I fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that felt warm and familiar.
Our conversation meandered through various topics—from the challenges of his teaching to our favorite books and movies, interspersed with chatting with the others. The laughter and banter flowed, and as the night progressed, I found my need for Chris becoming something I refused to ignore. I couldn’t put a pin in what it was. Maybe it was his passion for teaching, or his sense of humor, or the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he loved—all of it made me stare at him. Could it be that he was more than just a nice guy on the surface like Briggs had seemed and actually could be a good person all the way to his core?
Briggs had fooled me, but looking back, there were signs. I was second to everything else in his life, more like a glorified nanny than a husband. Not that I regretted that part—I loved Fox, and he was the son of my heart, if not by blood. But Briggs had never listened like Chris did—as if my opinion was important, and that maybe, I could be interesting.
Chris was laughing at a joke Maddie made about protons—I didn’t get it, but I was too busy thinking about Chris to follow—and he leaned on me, sharing his happiness through touch. I reached blindly for his hand on the table and drew it to me, holding it tight.
His eyes widened, but he didn’t miss a beat, lacing our fingers and asking Maddie for another stupid joke, but this time, Oscar beat her to it.
“Did you know in the math department we used to have a chicken?”
“What?” Chris asked.
“She was a matha-ma-chicken!”
Silence, and I snorted a laugh, and the entire table started laughing because there is nothing as good as a stupid joke when you’ve had a couple of beers.
“What did one tectonic plate say when he bumped into the other?” Chris offered. “My fault!”
Yeah, stupid jokes, beer, a lot of laughter, and holding hands with Chris on top of the table where anyone could see.
Perfect.
The Summit, with its bustling atmosphere and amazing fries (about which I made notes) was the perfect backdrop to an evening that felt like a step forward in whatever was happening between me and Chris. As we said our goodbyes to Maddie, Oscar, and Jerry, we still didn’t let go of each other, and only had to when Chris picked up his crutches and we both pulled on our outdoor gear. Even then, I stepped closer to him as we walked out of the bar, the cold seeping through our coats.
“That was fun,” I murmured. “Thank you for dragging me out. Again.”
“I’m glad you came,” he said. “Have you seen this?”
He’d stopped, leaning on his crutches, and pointing up at the night sky.
“Not properly,” I admitted. “Not since I was a kid.”
