by Dan Wingreen
“Yep.”
Spencer mewled quietly.
Cass sighed. “Oh relax. I didn’t actually tell everyone, you big drama queen.”
“Really?” he asked, perking up.
She shrugged. “Who would I tell besides you?”
“Lots of people,” he answered immediately. “Everyone likes you.”
“But I don’t like everyone.”
The implication—that she did like Spencer enough to come tell him even if she did fuck with him a bit first—was strangely touching.
“Aw, Cass…” He smiled. “I love you too.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She seemed less smirky than she had a minute ago, despite her dismissive words, so Spencer was pretty sure they were having a moment. “You know it won’t stay secret for long though, right? Nothing does in this school.”
Moment over, I guess.
“Kill me now.”
She snorted. “If it’s bothering you so much, you could always tell Corbin you don’t want the room.”
Spencer inhaled sharply and stared at her in utter disbelief. “Of course, I want it. It’s 210.”
Even more important, it was validation. Spencer was young, and some of his teaching methods—teaching students how to think instead of what to think, refusing to coddle the “gifted” kids or ignore the lazy ones—had gotten him more than a bit of scorn and ridicule over the years. He and Corbin butted heads more than once about his refusal to teach to standardized tests since he got tenure, so to hear that his kids had the best marks in the grade, and Corbin wasn’t ignoring it? Spencer would have fought for room in a janitor’s closet if it was a physical representation of being proven right. Room 210 would be his metaphorical “suck it” to the rest of the faculty, and everyone whoever doubted him would see him teaching inside it for the rest of his career and know they’d been completely wrong.
He just wished the whole thing could have stayed a secret until after he’d been given his room. Teachers were vicious when something like the perfect classroom was on the line, and he really wasn’t looking forward to his colleagues coming after him like he was sitting on the Iron Throne.
“Well, there you go,” she said without an ounce of sympathy for his impending hardships.
“I wouldn’t take pleasure in your suffering,” he said petulantly.
“Yes, you would. You get way too happy when you tell me what you do to your students, you sadist.”
“They’re students,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. “It’s their job to suffer. And all teachers are at least a little bit sadistic. Nonelective teachers, at least,” he added at Cass’s raised eyebrow. “You think we give homework because we want to make their lives easier?”
“I think you people give homework because you’re lazy, and you can’t teach them what they need to know during class.”
First-Year-Teacher Spencer would have been completely offended by that, but Safely Tenured Spencer only shrugged. “That too. But we don’t get tips or bonuses for kids getting good grades, so we have to make do with the way the light leaves their eyes when they realize you’ve just given them their third hour of pointless busywork for the weekend.” He closed his eyes and shivered slightly. “Oh yeah. That’s the good shit.”
When he opened them, he saw Cass watching him with an odd expression on her face. “I have no idea how serious you’re being right now.”
Spencer grinned.
Cass rolled her eyes, and Spencer took the opportunity to pull his phone out and check how long they’d been talking. Only seven minutes.
His phone buzzed in his hand, the short-short-long pattern he’d set for texts from Tim’s number during school hours, and he almost dropped it in shock. He fumbled, feeling like something out of an old Chevy Chase movie as he tried to keep it in his hands, and then opened the message before he could start to freak out about what it might say.
TIM: Of course I haven’t changed my mind. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t want to date you. :)
While he was reading, another message came in.
TIM: Your texting is adorable, by the way.
TIM: Just like you.
Holy.
Shit.
Spencer could feel his insides turn to goo.
“Are you okay?”
“Totally fine.” He winced at the amount of squeak in his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m…super.”
Cass studied him for a long moment, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Did you just swoon?”
“No!” He tried to glare, but he could still see Tim’s text in his peripheral vision, and he was pretty sure the goofy blushy grin on his face canceled it out. Her mouth started to open, but he quickly cut her off. “I have to get back to class! Can’t talk now. Sorry. Bye!”
As he scurried down the hall, he knew he’d only given himself a temporary reprieve. Fuck it. All my reprieves are temporary. I can deal. Later. Way later. He paused and collected himself before going back into his classroom. The last thing he needed was to look like he’d just been swooning out in the hall with Ms. Baker. When he was ready, he slipped inside with his phone still clutched in his hand. He winced when he pulled the door closed a little too hard behind him. The fourth row front, who he was almost sure was named Kyle, stumbled over his reading at the noise and then snapped his head around to stare at him. Just like everyone else.
Spencer put his hands behind his back, hiding his phone from view. It didn’t do much. Tim’s texts were burned into his retinas. Luckily, being the sole focus of his students was enough to get his head back in the game.
“Thanks, Derry,” he said, pleased with how normal he sounded. “You did a good job. Take a seat and get out your book.”
Derry calmly did so, which was impressive—the calmness. Spencer would have to keep him in mind for stuff like this in the future. Spencer went back to his desk and sat in his own chair. Once he’d gotten the kids reading again, he promptly ignored whatever the hell they were saying and took his phone back out. After rereading the texts Tim sent him about fifty times, he concluded no, there was absolutely no way he could be misinterpreting them. Tim was flirting. Blatantly.
Spencer covered his mouth to hide his smile. For once, he didn’t overthink things. He unlocked his phone and went with what felt natural.
SPENCER: Oh my god you asshole im in class right now. Stop making me swoon.
Tim responded right away, and Spencer hid another smile at the thought of him nervously checking his phone, wondering how Spencer might respond.
TIM: I made you swoon? :)
SPENCER: Yes! Right in front of cass too. Shes gonna ask me a million questions later.
There was a short pause this time, and Spencer used the break in messages to call on someone else to read.
TIM: Is that okay?
SPENCER: That cass saw? Yeah it’s fine. She doesnt usually tease. Much.
TIM: That I made you swoon, I mean.
SPENCER: Of course its ok.
He chewed his lower lip as he debated whether he should say more. In the end, he decided holding shit back had a good chance of sabotaging this thing before it could really get started.
SPENCER: I kinda like it honestly.
SPENCER: Really like it, actually. I haven’t felt like this in years.
TIM: Like what?
Spencer stared at that text for a long time, wondering why it was almost always seemingly simple questions that had the potential to tear him apart. He almost didn’t answer. The middle of class was the last place he wanted to leave himself raw and exposed, but he so badly wanted to open up to Tim. Spencer had spent so long convincing himself having Connor and being the way he was meant he could never have any kind of huge all-encompassing connection with another person. Yet, he could feel one trying to form right now; a wispy fragile thing like tendrils of smoke reaching toward each other from neighboring campfires. He wanted to grab those tendrils and pull them close, to tie the ends together and shove them so d
eep inside himself no one would ever be able to dig them out again. That kind of need was scary, exhilarating, and new, and he wondered if there was ever a time he could have avoided being here with Tim or if they had always been hurtling full force toward moments like this since that first day in the center.
SPENCER: Happy. Wanted. Needed. Desirable, maybe. Like I’m normal. Like I can have normal things and want normal things. Like im worth something to someone besides Connor or my parents. Like having a kid doesn’t mean that’s the only thing im allowed to have. Take your pick, or add in any sappy overwrought shit you want, because chances are im feeking that too.
Spencer’s face burned as he read over what he’d sent.
Jesus Fucking Christ, I can’t even bare my soul without typos.
SPENCER: *feeling
Spencer made a mental note to save up for a new phone. Preferably one where the autocorrect corrected things.
It took Tim longer than usual to respond, and while Spencer waited, hoping to any god that might be listening he hadn’t just made a complete idiot out of himself, the bell rang. By the time he got his class dismissed and the new one set up reading, his phone had buzzed several times.
TIM: That’s very sad.
TIM: You’re an amazing person Spencer.
TIM: You should be happy all the time.
TIM: I would say you should feel wanted and desired all the time too, but I’m just selfish enough to want you all to myself. ;)
TIM: Sorry. You’re being serious and I’m giving you terrible lines. I meant what I said in the first three texts though.
TIM: Are you there?
There were no more texts. Thank God, too, because Spencer was pretty sure he was already as red as his marking pen. He had no idea what to say though. Their conversation had taken a sharp left into a field of feelings and meaning, and even though he was the one who’d taken it there, he was starting to feel a little too open.
SPENCER: I’m here. Sorry, had to at least pretend to be a teacher for a minute.
TIM: That’s okay. :)
Spencer tapped his finger on his desk, getting an irritated glare from one of the girls closest to him. He glared right back and called on her to be the next one to read. The moment she started, the phone buzzed again.
TIM: You didn’t mention anything else I said though. Did I go too far?
TIM: I do that sometimes. Jump into things too quickly. If I did, you can tell me to back off. I won’t mind :)
Spencer sighed.
SPENCER: Goddammit, why are you so perfect?
TIM: :) But you’re deflecting. I did go too far, didn’t I?
SPENCER: No. Its my fault. Im the one who went all deep first.
He typed out “Thank you for what you said. It was very nice of you” and then immediately deleted it.
Jesus Christ, that sounds my mom’s forcing me to write a thank-you card.
He took a deep breath. Come on, it won’t kill you to give him something genuine here.
SPENCER: Im blushing like crazy, by the way. Actually im so red im pretty sure my students think im about to explode on them for their horrible mispronunciation again, so it’s not like I didnt like it. I just think we should save the super serious stuff until, you know, maybe AFTER we’ve had our first date?
Maybe by then Spencer would be less of a bipolar mess.
TIM: Lol. Fair enough. :)
TIM: So, safe pre-date question: How’s your day been so far?
Spencer smiled to himself, relieved that Tim wasn’t insulted. Even better? He actually had something to talk about.
SPENCER: More like GREAT pre date question. You’re not gonna believe the shit that happened today.
Chapter Twelve
Spencer wiped condensation off the mirror for the fifth time in the last ten minutes and then grimaced when that somehow didn’t change what he was seeing. Same dull eyes with…yep, the faint dark circles were still there. Same damp curly hair that he couldn’t blow-dry without turning it into a puffy, tangled mess. He rubbed his cheeks, annoyed at the roughness he could feel on his jawline even though he’d just showered, shaved, and slathered moisturizer all over himself; thankfully his face looked smooth. Against his better judgment, he stepped back so most of his naked body could be seen in the mirror.
He poked his belly, thankful beyond words it still didn’t jiggle; he hadn’t let himself go that much, at least. Not that he’d ever had a great stomach, even when he was a teenager. He’d always had a bit of paunch to him, mostly invisible unless he went topless or wore a tight shirt, but something he was always painfully aware of, especially since he’d been surrounded by rail-thin teenagers for most of his life. He turned to the side, sucked it in, let it out, and made a face. If nothing else it looked better smooth, just like the rest of his body. Not that he was planning on letting anyone see his body, of course. Spencer Kent was no first-date slut, but he’d already be going into this date thing with near zero confidence; shaving everything from the neck down so he at least felt sexy wasn’t that big of a deal aside from how long it took. While he was sideways, he figured he might as well check out his ass. Not too bad, he thought, twisting a bit. Bit of a curve, proportionate to the rest of his body, no visible sag. Not the greatest ass, but with the right pair of jeans it could be something. He gave some thought to flexing his arms, but he knew better than to push when he was ahead. His arms and legs had always been skinny, and all the nothing he’d been doing in the gym hadn’t magically changed that.
Spencer turned back to face the mirror head on and sighed.
So, we’re going with layers, then.
Which left only one question.
What the fuck does somebody wear on a date these days?
Twenty minutes later he’d decided on black boxer briefs and a pair of white ankle socks before he got stuck.
“Shitshitshit,” he hissed under his breath as he checked the clock again. He only had fifteen minutes until Tim got here for their mystery date, and there was no way he’d answer the door practically naked. He needed clothes, goddammit! The problem was, he didn’t really have any “date” clothes. Just drawer after drawer of skinny jeans, sweatpants, pajamas, sweaters, T-shirts, and a few frumpy collared button-ups he sometimes wore for work. And even though Tim had assured him he didn’t need to dress up fancy for wherever they were going, he still wanted to come off like he’d tried. He was getting desperate, but he couldn’t choose, so that only left him with one option.
“Connor! Come here for a minute!”
Stomping footsteps came closer to his open door. “What do you—ah!” Connor covered his eyes. “Why are you naked!?”
“I’m not naked,” he said, snapping the waistband on his boxers for emphasis. “I need your help picking out an outfit for my date.”
“It’s close enough…” Connor stilled and then peeked through his fingers. “Did you say ‘date’?”
Spencer nodded slowly. “Yes… I told you about it on…”
Oh. No, I didn’t.
“Goddammit,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You really have a date?” Connor asked, sounding more than a little lost.
“Yeah.”
“But…you never date.”
“Well, I am now,” he snapped and then sighed again and ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry.”
Connor barely seemed to hear him. “Who are you dating?” He wrung his hands together. “Please tell me it’s not someone at school. That would be so gross.”
Spencer’s lips twitched. “I dunno about that,” he said before his better judgment could kick in. “Principal Corbin’s only about thirty years older than me. And the burst capillaries on his face are kinda fetching in the right light.”
“Oh my God…”
Connor’s face twisted into his best I-Can’t-Believe-We’re-Related grimace, and Spencer didn’t even try to stop himself.
“There are some studies that show attraction is genetic, you know.
I’m not gonna have to fight you for him, am I?”
“What is wrong with you?”
“I’m just saying.”
“Ew.” Connor shuddered. “You’re gross. Why are you so gross?”
“Revenge for when you were a baby and threw up on me, and I had to see your shit every day, probably.”
“Dad!” Connor’s face burst into a furious blush, and without another word he spun on his heels and stalked toward the door.
“Wait!” Spencer called. Connor cringed, but, to Spencer’s surprise, he actually stopped.
“What?” he said, refusing to turn around.
“I need your help.”
Connor glanced over his shoulder with his brow creased. “With…what?”
Spencer rubbed the back of his head. “What do people wear on dates?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Do you see anyone else around here?”
“I’ve never dated anyone!”
“Good.” And if I have any say in it, you never will. “You go to school though. And you hang around young people all the time. Kids talk about personal shit way too loud when they’re in groups, so you had to have heard something.”
“Something about what you should wear on a date?”
“Turn around before you strain your neck.” Connor rolled his eyes but did so. “And something about what anyone wears on dates. I haven’t been on a date since you were five.”
And he’d worn ripped jeans and a hoodie, neither of which he had now, so he didn’t exactly have an old standby to fall back on.
“Well, I don’t know!” Connor glanced away. “Can you put a shirt on please?”
Spencer grinned. “Great! Which one?”
“I don’t—ugh! Something that doesn’t have a picture on it.”
“But that only leaves my work shirts…”
“Then wear those. Just…put something on. This is really weird. And I don’t wanna think about why you don’t have body hair anymore.”
Now Spencer began to flush. He hurried into his closet and pulled out the first button-up he saw. It was white, so he paired it with a navy V-neck sweater, half remembering something about layers needing to be in contrasting colors to look good.
