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No. I wasn’t. And what I’d told her hadn’t been the truth. Teaching was always hard, but that wasn’t the reason for my mood.
I just didn’t feel like telling her about everything.
Despite what had happened at the club, I liked her. It wasn’t her fault, after all, and with the way she’d handled herself at school afterward, and her discretion, I’d grown to trust her.
And she seemed to like me, though I had no idea why.
“I heard Shaw asked you to conduct a lesson for the teachers at Staff Development on engagement techniques,” she continued.
I nodded, draping my earbud cord around my neck. “I said no.”
“Why?”
“Because I think it would rub other teachers the wrong way for someone as inexperienced as me to tell them how to do their jobs,” I explained.
“Screw ’em.” She waved her hand at me. “Just like the students, the teachers have to be willing to change in order to succeed.” And out of the corner of my eye I saw her lean in, playing with me. “And you’re so capable, I think you could get them to want to.”
What did she know? Teachers usually hung on to their jobs for a lifetime, and they became creatures of habit. The idea that I could swoop in and tell them – people who had years of experience – how to improve was presumptuous.
Why would she care what I did?
I regarded her with a sideways glance. “Why are you so nice to me?”
She twisted her lips. “Skeptical much?”
“No,” I answered. “I mean, I haven’t really let you see anything about me to like.”
She giggled. “Not true. You’re a wonderful dancer. You do great things with your hands.”
I knocked her on the arm, letting out a snicker as I slowed to a walk and headed for the grass.
She smiled wide, following me. “I like you,” she panted, out of breath. “You do your job as if procedures weren’t already in place. You’re inventive. You do what you want, how you want.”
I dropped to my ass and pointed to my feet for her to hold as I crossed my arms over my chest and immediately started curling into sit-ups.
“People respect that,” she told me, kneeling down to hold my feet with her hands. “I respect that.”
I shot up, keeping my abs tight as I leaned back and curled up again.
Why shouldn’t she be my friend? I didn’t have many.
Or any, really.
And it had been a long time since I’d had one.
She was messy, and I could tell she enjoyed disorder. Everything I was against.
“I’m shy,” I warned her.
“You’re intolerant,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.”
I gave her a small smile. “I’m cynical,” I pointed out.
“Ohhhh, cynics are so cute,” she cooed, and I shook my head in amusement.
“And I don’t really like to party,” I told her, laying down the law.
“And I do,” she threw back, shrugging. “We’ll meet in the middle.”
TWENTY-THREE
TYLER
Hearing the cheers outside the auditorium, I dug my phone out of my breast pocket and pressed the button, turning it off.
I’d learned a little something over the past couple of weeks. The world would wait.
I swung the doors open and entered, a flood of battle cries and high-pitched instruments surrounding me as I walked in and let the heavy door slam shut behind me.
Jesus. How the hell was I going to find Christian in all of this?
The entire gymnasium was packed, bleachers filled to capacity on both sides of the basketball court with parents, staff, and students, some forced to stand on the sides for lack of seating.
The Friday pep rally, normally held during the morning on days there would be football games in the evening, was being held in the afternoon this week due to testing earlier in the day. Christian had texted, asking me to come.
Most of the parents would be here, and over the past several days he’d been more and more interested in me seeing things that went on at school and meeting his friends.
I’d instantly agreed. I’d come for Christian, but I was doing a piss-poor job of ignoring the small hope that I’d see Easton. I’d looked for her every day I picked up Christian from school, trying not to but fucking failing miserably.
No matter how much I tried to ignore the pull, I always scanned the school grounds for her after school, but she was never there. She didn’t come outside anymore to see the students on their way, and the only glimpses of her I got were online in the social media groups.
I scanned the bleachers, forcing myself not to look for her, but there was no way I was going to find Christian in this mess, either. I almost dug my phone out to text him when I spotted Jack, Easton’s brother, watching the dance performance taking place in the center of the court from the sidelines.
I debated whether to greet him, but not saying hello would prolong the awkwardness.
“Jack.” I stepped up to his side, folding my arms over my chest. “How are you?”
He twisted his head toward me, giving me a genuine smile. I guessed that Easton hadn’t confided in him, or he might have reacted differently.
“Very well,” he replied. “I’m taking Easton to dinner after this. I only hope she doesn’t have to stick around to clean up the mess.”
He laughed, and I just nodded, wishing I didn’t love hearing even the littlest thing about her.
“Thanks for the introductions at your luncheon a few weeks ago,” he said.
“No problem,” I told him. “I hope it was helpful. I know how hard it can be to break into the right circles here.”
