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He’s sure got jokes this morning.
Spencer is known as the teacher who does nothingbutmess around. Most of his class periods are spent telling funny stories about his life that have absolutely nothing to do with world history and everything to do with his own. I still don’t even know how our students learn anything from him.
“It’s not my fault I was lucky and got a planning period first thing in the morning.” I smile at him as we pick up the pace, nodding and waving to a few people we know as we make our way down the street.
The administration is pretty lax with the staff when it comes to first period planning times. We can come into school and do our work or stay home and just come in for our first class if we want. Since I try to put together all my lesson plans on the weekends, it usually leaves me an extra hour every morning before school.
“But I’ve been summoned to the castle today, so I don’t even get to enjoy my free time.” My smile drops as I lift my tray of coffees in reminder.
“What does the king of Summersweet want to talk about now?” Spencer asks as we take a right at the first street and head in the direction of the school and city hall.
My phone dings with a few incoming texts, and I carefully balance the drink carrier in one hand, while I pull my phone out of my back pocket with the other.
Tinsley:Of course I like donuts. For fuck’s sake, are there people out there who don’t?? Give me their names.
Tinsley:My favorite color is red. Wait. Is this for the skin suit you’re probably going to make out of me when you kill me? Whelp, I guess all the blood will make it a very pretty shade of red. 100% of people killed… die every time. I’m not as good at math as you, but I used a calculator, and the number checks out.
I chuckle to myself before quickly darkening the screen of my phone and shoving it back in my pocket before Spencer sees anything. I haven’t told him just yet I’m going to be getting a roommate later this evening. First off, he hates Tristan. If he knows I agreed to do him another favor, I’ll never hear the end of it. And second, I’m not ready for all the pushing he’ll most likely do to get me to sleep with her. That is something that willdefinitelynot be happening, and I’m just not in the mood to argue with him about it right now. She’s clearly going through something at the moment. I need to just be a good friend and somehow get her to clean up her life and go back to it.
“I’m sure my dad just wants to talk about whatIwant and what makesmehappy,” I reply to Spencer’s question.
We pause for a beat to look at each other as we stop at the crosswalk for a few golf carts to go by. And then we both throw our heads back and laugh. That’s the absolute last thing my father would want to talk to me about, and Spencer knows it.
“Stay strong, my friend. Meet me in the gym after eighth period.”
He pats me on the back, and then we go our separate ways once we cross the street. I’ll tell him later that I need to skip our one-on-one basketball game. I just need to come up with a good reason, other than wanting to run to the store to pick up a few things for Tinsley before I head over to the bowling alley for practice. It’s why I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours asking her what her likes and dislikes are. I want to make sure she’s as comfortable as possible while she works things out.
I’m honestly surprised she didn’t send me a list of demands, like a typical spoiled princess would. She’s different than I thought she’d be. Different than how Tristan has talked about her over the years during the handful of times he’s mentioned her in passing.
“Little miss perfect is being a bratty bitch again.”
“Can you believe how spoiled she is? She was handed everything, and she still wants more.”
“She’s completely ruined the Hamptons for me with all her whining about her life being unfair.”
The Tinsley I’ve started to get to know seems thoughtful, considering how many times she keeps asking me if it’s okay that she moves in. She also makes me laugh, and she’s got the mouth of a trucker.
It makes me wonder what else about her Tristan might have gotten wrong, while I scroll back through our messages as I walk.
“Take a lookat this chair. Isn’t this agreatchair? You’d look good sitting behind this desk in that one.”
I take a sip of my coffee to stop myself from sighing loudly as my dad pushes a furniture catalogue toward me across the top of his desk at city hall.
“It’s nice. Definitely sturdy.” I nod, picking a piece of lint off my pants instead of looking at the picture he’s pointing to.
“You need to get serious about this. My term will be over in less than six months,” he reminds me.
“And picking out agreat chairis how I’m supposed to be getting serious?”
My dad slowly pulls the catalogue back toward him. Grabbing his coffee I brought for him, he takes a drink before speaking again. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting different.”
I know he’s annoyed with me and my lack of interest, and a part of me feels bad for how much I’ve been dragging my feet and hownotexcited I am to talk about this. Becoming the mayor of Summersweet has been the plan my entire life.
“You’re a legacy, Ryan. Your great-great-great-grandfather was the first mayor of the island, and a Hutton has been voted into that position by city council every four years since then,” my dad speaks, narrowing his eyes at me when I silently mouth the words right along with him, and mine flicker to the paintings hanging behind him of each of my grandfathers sitting behind this very desk.
I’ve heard this statement from the great Ted Hutton at least once a month since I was a toddler. It’s why my major in college was education, but my minor was political science. The only reason he was even happy about me wanting to become a teacher was because he thought it would make me more well-liked in the community in preparation for becoming mayor.
My future was mapped out for me before I was even born, and suddenly, I don’t want to take that path anymore. I thought I did when we started discussing it a year ago, knowing my father would be retiring after this term. But I’m quickly realizing I have no other choice than to want it. I was never asked; it was just assumed I would do what all the other men in my family have done before me.
