Claire:Okay, I’m not unpackingthat.But if you’re not on the apps… whatareyou doing?
Heat prickles under my collar.What am I doing?Oh, you know, just hanging out in my brother’s teammate’s house every night and dry humping him into oblivion. Totally casual.
Me:Working. Teaching. Dog-sitting. Living my best spinster life.
Zoe:Liar.
Charlie:Liar.
Tamara:LIAR.
Claire:Babe, you’ve never once in your life been subtle. Who is he?
I laugh out loud, shaking my head. They’ll tear me apart if I give them even a crumb.
Me:Nobody. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.
Zoe:Translation: she’s glowing.
Charlie:Yeah, remember when she “wasn’t dating” last year and still had that just-got-laid glow at brunch? Same energy.
Tamara:Amen.
Claire:Don’t think you’re off the hook. This chat is sacred. Confess your sins.
I toss the phone into my bag before I can cave, but my grin won’t leave. They’re not wrong—Iamglowing. And it hasnothing to do with the apps, or candlelight dinners, or color-coded PowerPoints.
“Ms. Parnell.”
I jerk upright. Mrs. Delacourt is framed in the doorway, as if she’s been standing there long enough to catch the whole thing. Pencil skirt, crisp blouse, lips pursed in that way that says she’s already two steps ahead of you and waiting for you to catch up.
Heat rushes to my face, though I know she didn’t see the chat. Still, it feels a little like getting busted by the school principal… which, technically, I have.
“Yes, Mrs. Delacourt?” I fold my hands primly on top of the stack of essays, pretending I wasn’t just laughing at Zoe yelling about vagina names.
Her heels click into the room. “I just wanted to remind you that Career Day is coming up. I trust everything is organized?”
I nod, keeping my teacher smile fixed. “Of course.”
“And Mr. Parnell will be attending?”
Her tone makes it sound less like a question and more like a decree. My brother—NHL star and part-time school mascot—summoned like some kind of prize pony.
“Yes,” I say quickly. “He’ll be here.”
She gives a sharp little nod and a quick smile, already turning. “Good. The students and their parents will be very excited.”
The door shuts behind her, and I sag back into my chair. Eli never promised me that. He said maybe. He said he’d try. And the truth is, he’s got a marriage, a life, a million other responsibilities beyond being wheeled out every time the school needs to dazzle for their monthly newsletter.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, groaning. Great. Now, if he can’t come, I’ll look like I dropped the ball.
***
The late afternoon sun slants gold through the trees as Dusty drags me up Birch, tongue lolling, nails clicking against the pavement. He’s all enthusiasm, no brakes, following his nose and charging ahead, tail wagging in a blur.
“Slow down, you fluffy menace,” I puff, jogging to keep up as my phone buzzes in my pocket. I tug it free, frown at Eli’s name flashing across the screen, and swipe.
“Hey, stranger,” I answer, bracing as Dusty lunges toward a squirrel. “Checking in to make sure I haven’t set my house on fire?”
