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There were even times when we hung out without having sex. He stopped by the coffeehouse sometimes, or we’d text. He’d started sending me silly puns or jokes in the morning, like: Why did the cowboy adopt a wiener dog? Because he wanted to get a long little doggy. I’d laugh and roll my eyes or call him an old man, but really, it was cute as fuck. I liked starting my days that way.
It was almost the end of school for that afternoon. I’d just finished giving a lesson on metaphors and similes before asking, “Does anyone have any questions?”
A girl named Cassidy raised her hand.
“Yes?” I called on her.
“Are you married?” She giggled. Abbie, the girl next to her, did the same.
“I’m not sure how that’s important to the lesson or assignment, but no.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Abbie asked.
“Oh my God. He’s gay. He has that sign on the door,” Jeff added.
“Okay, I think we’ve gotten off-track here. My personal life isn’t up for discussion unless it’s information I offer you, but I will say, having an inclusion sign doesn’t mean someone is LGBTQ+.”
“How come only you and Mr. Boyd have them, then?” Jeff asked.
Well, shit. I had no idea what to say to that. Because the world was a shitty place sometimes? Because there were likely people here who didn’t agree with the sign or that this was the place to have it? Because some people didn’t think about things that didn’t affect them or didn’t understand the importance for queer youth to know they were welcome? Even if they never spoke up, seeing that sign could make all the difference in the world. They should be up in every classroom, and it should also be true in every one as well.
But I didn’t think that was how I should answer. They didn’t prepare you in college for these types of questions.
Before I could sort through my thoughts enough to land on something to say, the bell rang, effectively taking their mind off our discussion and on going home.
“Make sure you don’t forget to read through the short story and mark different figures of speech,” I said as they all made their way out of the classroom.
I fell into my chair, elbows on the desk, face in my hands. I was thoroughly exhausted. I must have sat there a while because when there was a soft knock on the open door, I looked up to see an empty hallway except for Cameron.
“Long day?” he asked.
Between two jobs, every day was a long day, but I didn’t tell him that. “You could say that.” I nodded, and he came inside, pulled up one of the student chairs beside my desk, and sat down. “One of the girls asked if I’m married, then another if I have a girlfriend. It threw me for a loop. I guess I didn’t expect them to question my personal life. I didn’t know what to say. I’m not closeted, haven’t been for a long time, but I’m also scared to death of saying the wrong thing and getting angry parents complaining that I’m shoving my lifestyle in their kids’ faces or something crazy like that. Why is it they can talk about their spouses, but I can’t? Well, if I had one.”
“You can,” Cameron replied. “You would do it in the same way a straight teacher would. I know it can be scary at first.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just didn’t expect it. I think the girls were simply curious, but then Jeff blurted out that I’m gay because only you and I have inclusion signs.”
“Jeff Burwell? He’s a piece of work, that kid. Probably has to do with all the talk about you.”
I frowned, my pulse kicking up. “Talk? What talk? I haven’t heard any talking. Who’s talking?”
Cameron chuckled. “All the girls are talking about the hot sixth-grade English teacher. There are all these stories going around about you being a child model and leaving the celebrity world behind because you got tired of being used for your looks. Those are the tame stories.”
My ears heated. Why was it always my ears? That made me think of Harrison since he’d mentioned them turning pink before.
“You really haven’t heard?” he asked.
“I had no idea!”
“Even some of the moms are talking about you—I would assume some of the fathers too. Apparently, you’re too pretty to be a teacher, and they didn’t have teachers like you in their day. I actually heard someone say that.”
“Oh God.” I shook my head. “Really?”
“Yes. They call you Hottie Wescott. I can’t believe no one has told you!”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “I guess I’ve been too busy to really pay attention.” That was…awkward.
We were both quiet for a moment, Cameron watching me, before he asked, “Do you have plans tonight? Want to go have a drink and talk shop? You’ve been at this for three weeks so far. Ready to run for the hills?”
