Page 33 of Robbin’ the Rich

“Eli, your marriage is hanging by a thread,” Jordan offered from the doorway.

“That was harsh!” Nate said.

Eli shrugged, “Valid though. Don’t take advice from me.”

Nate pointed at me seriously. “Just be normal.”

“I am normal.”

The entire table stared at me silently.

“I hate you guys,” I admitted, even as a smile curved my mouth.

Dice started rolling after that, conversation shifting toward dragons, spell slots and increasingly chaotic campaign decisions. Which was good, I was ready to get the attention off me and back onto the game.

But honestly?

Part of my brain stayed somewhere else the entire night.

Counting down until dinner tomorrow when I got to see Robin again.

8

MICAH

The final bell rang like a prison break. Chairs scraped loudly across tile while eighth graders exploded into the hallway in waves of backpacks, noise, and unresolved hormonal chaos. Somewhere down the corridor, a teacher yelled, “ABSOLUTELY NOT,” with the exhausted fury of someone who’d already had enough for the week, and it was only Monday.

I leaned back in my desk chair after the last student wandered out and rubbed a hand down my face slowly.

Silence. Beautiful Silence.

My classroom settled into late-afternoon stillness around me while sunlight slanted through the windows in warm gold streaks. I loved this room. It wasn’t particularly impressive, but it was mine. The lab tables were old, one cabinet door never closed correctly, and the district still refused to replace the ancient projector that sounded like a dying lawnmower every time I turned it on. Science posters covered the walls in organized chaos, a periodic table chart beside astronomy diagrams and cheesy motivational quotes students relentlessly mocked me for. A model solar system hung crookedly from the ceiling near the windows because one of Saturn’s rings kept falling off no matter how many times I fixed it. Near the back bookshelf sat a stack of geology samples beside three dying plants, and a plastic dinosaur skeleton wearing sunglasses someone had placed there months ago and I’d left it.

Tucked beside my desk near the filing cabinet sat an acoustic guitar for the occasional school talent show, music club meeting, or stress-induced lunch break. Being a middle school teacher required emotional support hobbies.

I opened the first stack of lab reports and quickly regretted everything. One student had somehow spelled molecule three different ways in the same paragraph. Impressive, honestly.

My phone buzzed against the desk before I could start grading properly.

Robin: Are we still on for tonight?

A smile tugged at my mouth. I still didn’t know how she did that so effortlessly.

Micah: Yes, I will pick you up at 7.

Three dots appeared… then nothing.

Micah: I’m excited to see you again.

The dots came back, and I sat there like one of my nervous students afraid of asking out a girl.

Robin: Me too. See you then.

I smiled quietly to myself just as a hesitant knock sounded against the open classroom door.

I glanced up. Tyler hovered awkwardly in the doorway clutching his backpack straps too tightly.

“Hey, man,” I said gently. “What’s up?”