Strings Attached

The first students in my room were two girls. “Hi, just have a seat anywhere,” I told them. I’d always hated assigned seats. Half the time I got stuck with assholes.

“Thank you,” one of them replied.

In ones, twos, and larger groups, students began to fill the room. I again let them know they could sit anywhere, hoping they didn’t look at me and smell fresh blood in the water.

Luckily, they were all in their seats by the time the second bell rang, and I closed the door.

“Hi… My name is Mr. Wescott, and before we go any further, I’m just going to get something off my chest.” They were all looking at me as if I was a little crazy, and maybe they were right. I had no idea if this was the right thing to say or not. “You are all my very first class ever, if you don’t count student teaching. I had nightmares about wearing my shirt backward or toilet paper being stuck on my shoe and all of you laughing at me.”

There were a few chuckles in the room.

“That’s secretly why I bought button-up tops.”

More laughs.

The tension in my stomach lightened some.

“So…if any of you see me and I have food on my face or something, will you tell me before I embarrass myself in front of the class?”

“You have food on your face,” a boy said.

“No, he doesn’t, Eric!” a girl replied.

“Phew!” I added. “Seriously, though…this is kind of cool because it’s your first year in middle school and it’s my first teaching. There might be some things we have to learn together, but I promise you, I’ll do my best to make this class fun and for you to learn a lot.”

“Can we skip the learning?” Eric said, clearly liking the attention.

“No way. Learning is the best. I know you’re now thinking that Mr. Wescott is the biggest dork you’ve ever seen, but it is fun, I promise. I’m going to do my best to prove it to you, while also introducing you to a wide variety of characters, stories, writing, and grammar. The last one is my least favorite, but I probably shouldn’t tell you that.”

A few more chuckles sounded throughout the room, and it felt right, perfect.

Maybe I really could do this.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Harrison

“Why are you obsessively checking your phone?” Warren asked before tossing a fry into his mouth.

“Today was Zander’s first day teaching. I texted him this morning, but he didn’t respond. I really want to know how it went. He’s so passionate about this, and I’m scared to death he got there and realized he hated it and—why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”

Shit. I hadn’t told him that Zander and I had decided to continue our fling. “Technically, I’ve only had sex with him one more time, but yes, we decided fucking each other was actually perfect.”

Warren shook with laughter. “This I have to hear. How is it perfect?”

“You do know I’m an adult and I don’t have to consult you on my decisions or answer your questions, right?”

“Yes, but you’re like a brother to me, so you will.”

Damn it. He was right. I would. “We’re friends. We enjoy getting off with each other. We both want something simple, no strings attached, and he’s working two jobs. Now when he wants to come, he can just call me rather than worrying about finding someone on an app.”

“Wow…that does sound perfect. Almost like Einstein logic.”

I gave my friend the finger, and he chuckled.

“I hate you.”

“I’m giving you shit…as you would do to me. You like him,” Warren said, not for the first time.

“Yes and no. I’m not looking to get into a relationship with him, if that’s what you mean. You know how I feel about that. But…I like him, yes. He’s so determined to succeed and to do it all on his own. I respect his drive, while also wanting him to accept a little help. I don’t think he sees that there’s no shame in it. I wish I’d had someone who would have helped me.”

“You probably wouldn’t have taken it,” Warren replied. “Not at his age, at least. That was around when I met you, and if I remember correctly, you were stubborn as shit too. You refused to let me babysit Ross for free.”

“That’s because he’s my son and my responsibility.” Warren cocked a brow, and I added, “Shut up.” He was right about me. “I hope he had a good day, is all.”

“You’re so hung up on this kid.”

“Can you not call him a kid?” And then damned if I didn’t look at my phone again. It was after seven. Zander would have finished work hours ago. He couldn’t have grading work already, and—I shook my head.

“What?” Warren asked.

“I put money on him being at the coffeehouse.”