I grab my dinner and take it over to the small kitchen table in the corner. I don’t feel like eating, but I know from experience that it’ll hurt if I skip over it, no matter how tired I might be. Ballet burns a lot of calories, and it’s easy to drop weight and muscle, especially over the winter, if I ignore my diet.
While I eat, I scroll through my contacts, looking for anyone willing to pretend to be my date. Nothing. After years away, I don’t know that many people in Vermont. As a new dancer with the company, I don’t have any favors to call in from my fellow dancers. If anything, I owe several people favors for helping me settle in. Plus, explaining this embarrassing situation is not on my list of priorities. I’m still trying to pretend to be vaguely normal. They’ll eventually discover the truth, but I’d like to hold onto the delusion a little longer.
Okay, I’m not going to solve this issue tonight. Instead, I focus on the things I can control, such as cleaning the kitchen, unpacking my bags, and getting ready for bed.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and a boyfriend will fall into my lap overnight.
AIDAN
“Mr. Matthews?”
“Yes, Bradley.” I grit my teeth as the words leave my mouth. I adore all my students, honest, but Bradley is using my last nerve as a jump rope today.
“Sarah touched my picture,” he says in the whiniest voice imaginable. Andmesaying that is something. After teaching kindergarten for three and a half years, I’ve heard a lot of whining.
“Did she hurt it?” I ask, glancing at the clock. There are only ten minutes until the end of this long day, at the end of a demanding week. I can’t wait to get home, climb in the shower, and stand under the water until it scalds my skin off.
I’d bathe in bleach if it was an option. So far this week, three kids ended up with lice, four threw up, and two tested positive for strep. This job should come with hazard pay.
“No.” His bottom lip starts to quiver. “But shetouchedit.”
Too bad for Bradley, but I’m impervious to that whole about-to-cry look. Somewhere around month five of this job, it stopped working on me.
“Then I think you should sit down and finish coloring. The bell will ring soon.” I’m saying that as much for him as I am for myself.
Bradley stares at me in disbelief for a second before huffing back to his seat, muttering the whole way.
I glance at the clock again. The hands haven’t moved. Maybe it’s broken? Before I can think too hard about it, a crash followed by the wail of a five-year-old has me scanning the room.
“Damon, it’s okay.” I coo as I approach the sobbing boy. “Are you hurt?” I look for signs of blood or injury, but find only spilled paint water. Thank God. The nurse is going to think I’m personally causing these issues if I have to call her to my room again this week.
My relief doesn’t extend to Damon, who’s in full meltdown mode, chest heaving as big tears roll down his face.
“It’s just water. Everything’s okay.” The water might be a little dirty, but in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. This floor’s seen worse. Much worse.
“But… I… It’s…” A second round of sobs starts, and I try not to look annoyed. The last thing this kid needs right now is an actual reason to be upset.
“How about you be a big helper and grab me some paper towels. Can you be my helper?” It’s fifty-fifty whether this tactic will work. For a second, I’m sure he’s going to start crying all over again, but after a brief pause, he wipes his face on his sleeve and walks toward the sink, dragging his feet the whole way.
I breathe out a sigh of relief. One crisis under control. Now for the mess. Luckily, I never fill the cups very full—the reason is apparent—so the spread is limited.
Graciously, the bell rings right as Damon hands me two small paper towels.Two.
“Thanks, Damon. Why don’t you grab your things and head out? I’ll see you next week.”
He doesn’t even give the mess a second look as he skipsoff to find his coat and backpack, leaving me to deal with the mess. Any chance there’s a second bell that magically gets me out of this?
Nope. Guess it’s me and these paper towels versus the gray water dripping from the tabletop.
CHAPTER 2
COVEY
“Hey, Mom.” It’s weird walking in the front door without knocking or being escorted. Even after being back for three months and living a short driving distance from my parents’ house, it’s strange. My mom and dad have been nothing but supportive of my career, even when they don’t understand it. That’s often meant living far away from them, starting as a young teenager.
“Covey, where’s your man?”
Right, straight to thepointthen.“He’s running a bit late, so he’s driving himself.”Liesonliesonlies. I wished and hoped that a genius plan would pop into my mind. Nope. Noplan. Not even the slightest hint of one. I could pretend we broke up, but that comes with alotof follow-up questions and constant checking up on me for weeks to come. He could be unavailable, but I’ve used that excuse alot. At thispoint, it’s become the equivalent of having a fake girlfriend in another country. I never bothered with that. WhenI told my parents I’m gay, they nodded and went on with their day. Probably because they’d known for a while, even if we’d been pretending they didn’t.
