“I knew that if we waited long enough, the two of you would figure something out.” This is going to be more difficult than I thought. Not the convincing part—apparently that’s covered—but the inevitable breakup. “You’ll have to come over another time. Then you can tell me everything.”
Suddenly, this feels way more complicated than I thought. It’s not simply a one-and-done deal. Now we need a whole cover story. Usually, it’s Covey who comes up with the crazy schemes. He makes it look so easy. Maybe I’m doing it wrong?
“Okay, Mom, he has to get going.” Covey pulls me toward the front door.
“Come back soon, okay?” she calls. “You’re always welcome here.”
“Yeah, thanks.” It’s always been my second home. Guess there’s no reason for that to change now. Except that the whole reason I’m invited over is a sham.
Covey has me out the door before I can fall into a complete anxiety spiral. “What the hell?”
“I can’t… I don’t…” Is the ground spinning? It feels like it might be spinning.
“Aidan?” Covey squeezed my hand a few times. “I would’ve figured something out. You didn’t have to do that.”
And that’s it, isn’t it? Covey always figures something out. For once, I wanted to be the one who saved the day for him.The one who got him out of a mess. God knows he’s done it for me dozens of times.
“I don’t mind.” There’s no reason to backtrack now. “Really.”
“It’s only until New Year’s.” Two months? Easy. “Then we can come up with a good reason for us to break up. Tell everyone we’re better as friends.”
Right. Friends.
CHAPTER 4
AIDAN
“And don’t forget, after the mess with the Halloween parade, we highly discourage any Thanksgiving craft projects that involve messy materials, including paint and glitter.” I wince and sink into my chair. My classroom isn’t the only one that had issues, but we were part of the problem, as evidenced by the neon orange handprint still on the bathroom door. That specific shade is more difficult to remove than the others. Who knew?
“And finally, we need volunteers to chaperone this year’s winter field trip.” A round of groans goes through the room. It’s the same thing every year. First, they ask for volunteers. No one volunteers. Then they threaten us—still, no willing victims. Eventually, Principal Rodriguez selects the teachers who pissed her off the most and voluntolds them to do the job. I’m not sure why we bother with steps one and two, but it’s part of the pageantry. “This year’s field trip will be to aspecial production of The Nutcracker by the Green Mountain Ballet Company.”
My mouth goes dry. The school’s going on a field trip to see my fake boyfriend. I don’t want to be voluntold to be part of that, but considering the whole paint incident, I suspect I’m high on the list for consideration. Unless a bunch of people magically want free tickets in exchange for spending an afternoon wrangling rowdy kids.
Yeah, I’m screwed.
I can add it to the long list of issues that seem to be adding up. I told Covey I didn’t want to back out of being his fake boyfriend, but a few days later, my mind still grinds against the idea. I wish I knew what part made me uncomfortable. We used to be inseparable. As teenagers, people often thought we were dating. Partly because we were the only two queer kids they knew—so obviously we were together, but also because of the easy affection we offered each other.
This is a few easy events with his family. The rest of the time, things are business as usual. It’s not like we’reactuallydating. Helping out a friend for the holiday season is the right thing to do. A bit of Christmas spirit. With the added bonus of getting reacquainted with Covey.
“You coming?” I blink a few times and find Silas standing in front of me.
“Guess I zoned out.” Silas and I started here at the same time, part of a small group of first-year teachers. We were also the only male teachers that year. It instantly bonded us together. In part because people expected it, but also because we get along well.
“You want to tell me who’s making you so spacey?” he asks quietly.
“What makes you think it’s a person?” I look around to make sure I have all my stuff and follow Silas back towardour classrooms. We keep quiet in the hall, mindful that there are always people around looking for gossip. I know, because I’m one of them.
“It’s always a person. Aidan, you find more people to crush on than I meet in an entire year,” he says as soon as we’re alone in my classroom.
“I do not.” I think about it for a few minutes, and… he might have a point. I’m a romantic at heart. When someone catches my eye, I start dreaming up a future together long before we even go on a first date. “Plus, that won’t be happening for a while.”
He flops down on one of the beanbags in my room, and I cringe. He knows better than to touch any of the things the students use. This entire place is a giant germ factory.
“And why’s that?” He raises one of his eyebrows in an expression he’s mastered. It gets students to do exactly what he wants. No matter how hard I try, it doesn’t work for me. After numerous failed attempts, I realized it doesn’t work on the younger students; only the older ones, who’re slightly less feral, seem to respond. At least that’s the story I’m sticking with. Not that I’m bad at it. I have other ways of getting my students to behave. Largely bribes. Lots and lots of bribes.
“I’m doing a friend a favor by being his fake date for holiday events.” Going on any real dates during this time would feel too much like cheating. What if someone saw me and then assumed I was cheating on Covey? Nope. I couldn’t do that to him.
“This I gotta hear. Tell me more.” The bean bag crinkles as he adjusts positions, crossing his arms over his chest.
