Alex’s mouth opens like he wants to argue, but then, his face growing more pale than usual, he looks down at the floor.
Part of me wants to reach out and offer comfort, but I’m not sure who needs it more.
All I know is, I shouldn’t be here. It feels like I’m intruding on a private conversation.
For a long, terrible second, no one says anything.
But finally, Nate drags a hand down his face. His anger slipping away, leaving only exhaustion. “Next time, text me. Please.”
His voice cracks on the last word, revealing how he really feels.
Afraid.
Alex walks past us, muttering, “I’m gonna go shower,” before disappearing down the hall, the door slamming shut behind him.
The silence he leaves behind is heavy as Nate slumps back into his chair, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get angry like that.”
I shake my head, my heart aching for both of them. “You don’t have to apologize,” I whisper, but Nate still looks away, toward Alex’s bedroom.
“He’s okay,” I tell him, reaching across the table to lay my hand over his. His fingers curl around mine, holding on tight.
The following day, I’m tucked into one of the small round tables in the teacher’s lounge, poking at my reheated rice, when Nate strolls in with a lunch tray balanced in one hand.
Layla quickly follows.
“Hope I’m not interrupting your couple time,” she teases, dropping into the seat across from me.
Nate shoots her a look, his mouth full of pizza. “Don’t start,Layla. It’s too early.”
“It’s noon,” she points out, biting into her apple. “So, Iris, ready for your first round of parent-teacher conferences tonight?”
I nearly choke on my rice. “Don’t remind me. I’m so nervous.”
Nate leans closer to me, his hand landing on my knee under the table. “You’re gonna be just fine. Parents just wanna hear nice shit about their kids anyway.”
“Except the ones who want to blame you for their kid not doing well,” Layla adds, “Or the ones who treat it like speed dating.”
“Hey, don’t joke about that,” Nate grumbles, “Last year, I had two or three of ‘em following me around all evening.”
“I bet you loved it.”
“Hell no. It’s awkward. Their kids were right there half the time.”
I giggle despite my nerves, “You’ll probably have a whole line this year.”
He catches my eye, giving me a crooked grin. “I only got eyes for you, Darlin’.”
“God, stop,” Layla says. “Some of us are lonely and bitter.”
“You’re neither,” Nate points out. “You’ve got Grant.”
“I do, but we’ve reached the boring stage of marriage,” she retorts with a sigh before turning back to me. “You’re gonna do great, Iris. Don’t let them bulldoze you. If you get stuck, text me. Or Coach, he’ll come save ya.”
“I appreciate it,” I say, though my stomach still feels tight. “It’s just, I’ve never done this before. What if I say the wrong thing?”
Nate’s voice softens. “You won’t. You care about those kids.They’ll see that.” I look up at him, his thumb rubbing back and forth on my thigh.
The lounge feels smaller, like it’s only the two of us.
