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“Probably,” I agree. “But I guess it depends on what I’m calling to talk to you about. If it were related to Tilly and her schoolwork then that would be totally acceptable. If I were calling to ask you your thoughts on midget-fisting porn, well, that might be a different story.”
She snorts and dissolves into giggles. “You just made me snort coffee out of my nose,” she gasps. “Is that why you’re calling?”
“Depends. Would you answer me if it was?” I crack, stretching out on the bed.
“If I was into midget-fisting porn, it’s probably something I’d want to keep on the down-low.”
“Fair enough—that’s a valid point. I could imagine that kind of thing getting out would be hard to explain,” I agree, laughing.
She laughs again. “This is totally not where I was expecting this conversation to go. So, why are you calling me? Why aren’t you out, relaxing on a Friday night?”
“Because you mentioned your love of art, and I happen to have a good friend who has an exhibition opening next Thursday night at the Red Rock Gallery.”
The line falls silent and for a second I think she’s hung up. “Sounds like fun,” she finally responds.
“And I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” I add, trying to put her mind at ease. “This is totally not a date. No offense, but the whole midget porn obsession you have going on is a little off-putting for me. I think you’re way too experimental for me to handle.”
She bursts into laughter. “Well, how can I refuse when you put it like that? I’d love to go with you, but I want to be clear and upfront: I’m not ready for a relationship.”
“Is there room in your life for another friend?” I ask.
“There’s always room for a new friend. Especially one that can make me laugh.”
“Great, then I’ll pick you up at six. It’s black-tie, so dress up. If you’re leaving Tilly with Grant and Ellie, let me know and I can get you from there.”
“Okay, sounds good,” she says, her voice happy.
We hang up and I lie back on my bed, satisfied. I was totally bullshitting her when I said I wasn’t interested in a relationship. I am. I think she is, too, only she doesn’t know it yet. I feel bad for her, especially given her situation with Aiden. I can’t even imagine how hard that must be for her. Hopefully, as she gets to know me she’ll realize that she is capable of moving on.
***
Kelly is on me five minutes after I arrive at work the following Wednesday. She follows me into my office, rattling on about some project she wants my approval to run, but the only thing she’s actually gotten out is how Mr. Mattich was thrilled with her whole concept.
“Kelly,” I say, rubbing my head. I don’t function well before a coffee, and sleeping through my alarm this morning meant I was running on empty. “Put whatever it is you want in writing and I’ll go over it, okay?”
She pouts, but doesn’t argue with me. Turning on her heel, she storms out of my office in her usual fashion. After I go through my morning schedule, I head down to the staffroom to make myself a coffee. It’s only just after seven thirty, so the halls are pretty empty. I’m surprised that Kelly is here this early, but then I remember—it’s Kelly. She probably sleeps in the parking lot.
It’s after seven in the evening by the time I get away from my office, and I still have so much shit to do but if I stay any longer I’m going to go crazy. I knew from my vice principal roles that this would be hard, but I think I underestimated just how much work would be involved. Nonetheless, I love it and I wouldn’t change it for anything.
Grant calls me as I’m driving out of the parking lot.
“Ellie’s doing something with Kiara and the girls so I’m a free man tonight. I’m thinking burgers and beer at Shady’s Bar?”
“I’m literally just leaving work.” I sigh. “But a burger sounds better than frozen pasta, so you’re on.”
I hang up and do a U-turn, heading in the direction of the bar. The good thing about finishing so late is that the traffic is pretty much nonexistent. My mind wonders to Kiara, and I imagine what she and Ellie have planned for tonight. Are they talking about me? I grin, liking the idea of being the topic of conversation.
I get to the bar before Grant. I order myself a beer and slide into a booth. Taking a sip, I sigh as the amber liquid runs down my throat. Fuck, that’s good. I’m on my second by the time Grant arrives. He spots me and waves, stopping at the bar to order himself a drink. Carrying it over, he sets it down on the table and grins at me.
“I see you’ve already started.”
“Yeah, well, after the day I’ve had, I need it.”
“Kids giving you the shits?” He chuckles.
“The kids are fine—it’s the parents and other teachers who are the little shits. Seriously, sometimes I wish I’d just stuck to teaching.”
“It’ll get better when you settle in,” Grant says encouragingly. “You’ve only been there a few weeks. It’s got to be hard getting into a rhythm.”
