Page 56 of Fall Fake-Out

“Mr. Stevenson,” she says without glancing up. “Looks like you had an eventful weekend.”

You know word got out when it even reached the realms of Mrs. Albany.

I smile big. “Yes, I would say it was a great weekend.”

“People need hobbies,” she mutters, and I’m not exactly sure if that comment is directed toward the rumors about Ari and me or if it’s directed at Ari and me. I continue toward my office, pretending I’m unbothered.

I am bothered.

Just selectively bothered.

Because honestly, I’m less concerned about embarrassing viral videos and more concerned about the eighteen-year-old girl currently trying to seduce me into a prison sentence. So, to me, whatever scandal I caused this weekend will be well worth it.

I step into my office, flip on the lights, and wake up my computer.

The second my email loads, my good mood dies.

Subject: Professional Conduct Concerns

From: Jonathan Jex, School Superintendent

Fantastic.

I open the email while slowly lowering into my seat and begin reading.

Wade,

I love how Mr. Jex doesn’t even give me the respect of calling me Mr. Stevenson.

By now, I’ve become aware of several videos and rumors circulating regarding inappropriate public behavior between yourself and a faculty member during Friday evening’s football game. As principal, maintaining professionalism with staff and students is imperative. I would like to schedule a phone call later today to discuss expectations moving forward…

I stop reading there.

“Inappropriate public behavior?” I mutter. “That feels dramatic.”

Though, admittedly, Ari falling into my lap in front of the student section probably wasn’t ideal optics for a principal already fighting for credibility.

I lean back in my chair with a long sigh.

This is exactly the kind of thing my dad mentioned yesterday.

One weird moment.

One misstep in front of everyone.

Proof that Wade Stevenson is too immature to run a school.

Anxiety crawls up my spine before I can stop it.

I picture school board meetings, parents demanding professionalism, Jex using phrases like “poor judgment.” But worst of all, I picture my dad’s disappointment about how I failed his school, his faculty, and most importantly him.

That’s where the real anxiety lies.

Then another image bulldozes through all of it: Ashtyn Ellis hiding in my office last Friday afternoon. And suddenly, the football game feels like the least concerning thing happening in my life.

I can smooth this over with Jonathan Jex.

Honestly, if the town wants to obsess over Ari accidentally straddling me on aluminum bleachers instead of the actual student-boundary issue, I should probably count my blessings. Maybe their misplaced focus and this distraction is the best thing that could happen to me. I should lean into that.