by Grey, R. S.
“Ow, Jesus.”
He reaches out to stabilize me and I stare intently at his chest before wriggling free.
No. There can be no touching, not if I’m expected to maintain the status quo: friends, with a capital F.
“Ms. Abrams, may I have a word with you?” George asks from the front of the conference room.
I don’t know who he’s kidding with all the formality. I’ve seen him shotgun light beer after an intramural kickball game.
Ian mumbles something about my yellow dress I don’t quite hear.
“What was that?”
He shakes his head. “Want me to wait with you?”
I smile. “Think I’m in big trouble for the abstinence comment?”
“Either that or we’re busted for tic-tac-toe again. You shouldn’t have thrust your fist in the air after that last game.”
“I’d just won the third and final sudden-death showdown. What was I supposed to do? Win with grace and aplomb?”
“Aplomb? You humanities teachers use the most bizarre words.”
“Ms. Abrams?” George calls impatiently.
Ian tugs on the end of my loose braid. “Good luck. Don’t hesitate to bribe him with a case of Natty Light.”
I feign a look of grave concern. “Okay, and I’ll tell him tic-tac-toe was your idea.”
Turns out, I’m not in trouble. George has a task for me.
“As you’ve probably heard, Jen is going on maternity leave earlier than expected, so her long-term sub is arriving tomorrow morning. I’d like you to show her around, y’know, give her the lay of the land.”
I hiss. “Oh man, wish I could, but I’m on carpool duty.”
His time as an administrator has clearly taught him some tricks, because he’s already prepared for my go-to excuse. “I’ve already got someone covering for you this week and next.”
I grin, flipping through my rolodex of get-out-of-jail-free cards. “Ooh, I could use that time to prepare for the sex-ed thing—”
“Prepare? All the material comes from the state. You’re just there to put a condom on a banana and answer questions.”
My brain trips up, and I run out of options. You win this round, George.
“Fine. What’s the sub’s name?”
“Ashley. I’ll tell her to meet you at 7:30 tomorrow morning.”
True to his word, the long-term sub is waiting for me outside the main office bright and early. She’s overdressed in a black blazer with matching pencil skirt. She looks like she’s going to represent me in a Supreme Court case. Looks wise, I can’t help but notice that she’d fit right in among Ian’s old girlfriends. Blonde and tall, there’s no way she’s a day over twenty-three.
Apparently, she thinks the same about me, only younger.
“Excuse me, student, do you know where I can find Ms. Abrams?”
When I tell her who I am, she blushes at her blunder.
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. It’s just, you’re so…petite.”
I straighten my shoulders. For the record, I’m not that little.
“Right, well, I’m supposed to give you a tour, so let’s get going.”
The high school is massive, and it’s easy to get lost. I decide to keep it simple and avoid places like the band hall and theater room. She’ll never remember it all, so I just stick to what’s important.
“That’s the server room. The campus IT guy sells weed out of it, I’ve heard.” We turn down another hallway. “And here’s the art room. You’ll notice that the art supply room smells a lot like the server room,” I hint with a wink and a nudge.
Ashley’s childlike eyes widen, and I think maybe I should have taken her to the band hall instead. She looks horrified.
“Err, just kidding. Come on, I’ll take you to your classroom.”
Our tour is over pretty quick, but it’s not so easy to shake Ashley. At lunch, she’s at my classroom door waiting for me. She’s ditched her black jacket and looks marginally less stuffy. In her hand is a monogrammed Vera Bradley lunchbox.
“Mind if I eat lunch with you?”
I know Ian will groan when he walks in and finds her at our table. He hates new additions, thinks they mess with the sacred casualness of the lounge. Still, I shrug and smile. “Sure thing.”
When we arrive, I take my seat and start lining up my food. Today’s provisions include leftover spaghetti, green beans, and half a Hershey’s bar. We’ll fight over the chocolate for sure.
Ashley’s hand hits my arm and she pinches hard. “Oh my god, who is that guy?”
I don’t know who she’s referring to because my focus is on her fingers. She’s about to tear my skin off. I extricate my arm and soothe the ache. All the while, Ashley straightens her shoulders and fluffs her hair. Her finger brushes against her front teeth to confirm nothing is lodged there and then she smiles extra wide. I follow her gaze and find Ian over in line for the microwave. It looks like he brought leftover spaghetti too. That’s what happens when we eat the same dinners most nights.
“Is he a teacher?” she asks, all breathy and bothered. She sounds like she’s having a hot flash.
“That’s just Ian.”
Just Ian is the biggest understatement of the century and Ashley knows it. He looks like a Hollywood actor trying to portray a normal teacher, and he’s not even doing that great of a job. Her gaze cuts to me and she frowns, deeply confused about how a man as handsome as him could have a modifier like “just” before his name.
“Do you know him?”
“Yeah. He and I are good friends.” Best friends.
“Oh, okay.” Her smile slowly spreads even wider, and it makes my stomach hurt. “Is he single?”
NO. No. Nah. Nope.
I look down at the table and force the truth out. “Yes.”
A record screeches to a halt as all eyes whip over to me. Forks pause midway to mouths. Gazes widen. Birds turn their heads to look and smack into buildings.
A chair grinds beside mine and I glance over my shoulder to find the Freshman Four staring in my direction. They’re the popular posse all grown up—the teachers who run the cheerleading and drill team programs at Oak Hill. They also have never met a Botox needle they didn’t like.
Their leader, Bianca, leans her eyelash extensions closer and hisses, “Wait, I thought you and Ian have been dating for like…ever?”
I turn in his direction, worried he can hear this conversation. Thankfully, the PE teacher has engaged him in some kind of discussion over near the microwave. She’s the only woman I’ve ever seen who could challenge him in the height department.
“Yeah. What are you talking about saying he’s single?” her minion, Gretchen, chimes in. “You’ve been dating for years!”
“What?” I shake my head adamantly. Cold sweat breaks out on my brow. “No we haven’t.”
“Are you serious?”
“We all just thought—”
Clearly, there’s been a misconception about us. Because we’re friends and we spend so much time together, everyone naturally assumes we’re an item. I am horrified to think this rumor has circled back to Ian. What if he thinks I perpetuated it?
“No, no, Ian and I are just friends.”
Gaping mouths shift into curling pleased grins. My words are a waving checkered flag. Game on.
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Acknowledgements
Thank you to all my loyal readers! I couldn’t do any of this without you guys!
Thank you to my editor, Caitlin, at Editing by C. Marie! Thank you to my two proofreaders, Jennifer and Alison. I’m fortunate to have you all on my team.
Thank you to my agent, Kimberly Brower!
Thank you to all the bloggers who help spread the word about my books! Vilma’s Book Blog, Book Baristas, Angie’s Dreamy Reads, Natasha is a Book Junkie, Southern Belle Book Blog, Typical Distractions Book Blog, A Bookish Love Affair, Swept Away by Books, Library Cutie, Hopeless Book Lover, and many, many more!
