Change With Me (With Me in Seattle 17.5)

“Surprise me,” she answers.

Oh, I could surprise her with all sorts of things. In fact, if surprises are her thing, I can have fun with that.

But for tonight, I’ll start with the pizza.

I text Rina to ask what the best pizza is around here, then place an order. Surprisingly, they tell me that it should arrive in thirty minutes, so I change my clothes and get comfortable myself, pouring a glass of wine, and flipping on the gas fireplace in the living room. I just sat down to get comfortable when Aubrey comes walking into the room, her hair wet and in a pile on her head. She’s wearing an oversize, black T-shirt over black leggings, and her feet are bare.

“There’s an open bottle of wine on the counter,” I offer.

“Perfect.”

She pours herself a glass and sits on the couch across from me, her feet pulled up under her, and sighs in happiness.

“Much better,” she says and sips her wine. “Being a teacher is a lot of physical work. You wouldn’t think so, but it is.”

“Oh, I think it’s probably one of the hardest jobs there is,” I reply and rub my hand over my chin. “How many kids will you have in your class?”

“Twenty-eight.” She winces and then shrugs one shoulder. “It’s a lot in one classroom. I prefer twenty or less so I can give each child more of my attention.”

“Will you have an aid or a helper of some kind?”

“Not that I’ve been told.” She sighs. “Sometimes, we get student teachers from the colleges, who need to put in classroom hours. That can be a big help. Other times, I get parents who want to come in and help. They’ll read or just work one-on-one with kids who need a little extra attention. It’ll work out. This is a good school system. I know my classroom looks old, but they’re slowly remodeling the whole building. I’m looking forward to meeting my kiddos tomorrow and getting the year started.”

“When did you decide to be a teacher?” I ask her, just as the doorbell rings. “Hold that thought.”

I set down my wine and hurry to the door. I take the boxes handed to me, sign a slip, and then shut the door, carrying the food to the kitchen.

“I’ll come help.”

“You sit.” I point to her and then load up two plates with pizza, breadsticks, and salad, carrying them into the living room with napkins before settling across from her once more. “Okay. When did you decide to be a teacher?”

She takes a bite of salad and chews, thinking it over. “I was in high school. In the summer, I got a job at a daycare. I really loved working with the older kids. Babies are fine, but it was the older ones that I took an interest in. And then I just knew. It was pretty organic, I guess you could say. When did you know you wanted to be an actor?”

I frown down at my plate. “I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t an actor. My parents got me into the business before I could walk. So not being an actor wasn’t an option.”

She frowns. “What if you hated it?”

“I did, for a while. Especially when I was younger, and the paparazzi wouldn’t leave me alone. I couldn’t do anything without having a camera in my face.”

“You couldn’t be a kid,” she says softly. “Just a regular person.”

“No. But don’t feel sorry for me. I have a pretty great life.”

She smiles and bites into her pizza, then groans in happiness.

Fucking hell, I want to hear her groan like that when I’m inside of her.

“If I’d known this pizza was here,” she says, swallows, and takes another bite, “I would have moved here a long time ago.”

“Wow, pizza is what does it, huh?”

“This is excellent pizza. Anyway, I don’t feel sorry for you. I do feel bad that you didn’t have more of a normal upbringing. But everyone’s life experience is different, right? Mine was very…ordinary. Parents died in an accident when I was a baby. Grandpa raised me. Grew up in a small town in Arizona. There’s really nothing extraordinary about me. Just a different life experience.”

“There are plenty of things about you that make you special, Aubrey.”

Her cheeks redden, and she frowns. “Anyway, what’s your favorite movie? Not one you were in, but one you like to watch the best.”

“You don’t like hearing that you’re special.”

“I’m not fishing for compliments, Zane. Look, I know who I am, okay? I’m the homely girl that people look at sideways, don’t really care to get to know, and pretty much ignore. I’m just…plain. And that’s okay. Don’t you feel sorry for me.”

I want to punch anyone who’s ever told her that she’s not special.

I want to tell her all the ways I think she’s amazing.