“It’s going well.” Brie’s voice softens, the hard edges of her expression smoothing out. “I love third grade. The kids have been really engaged and fun.”
It’s clear from the way she talked that first day in my office that she’s passionate about teaching. I’m not surprised. She always poured herself into her favorite subjects at school with an almost singular focus.
Doug drops off our drinks and a basket of bread, and takes our orders.
“Where did you move from?” Harvest asks.
“Indianapolis.” Brie lifts her glass to her lips. Her throat bobs as she swallows, and her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip.
Harvest asks, “Why did you move in the middle of the school year?”
“Yeah,” Dev says. “Is it a good story?”
Ignoring how fucking elated I am that Dev doesn’t know the reason, I notice the way Brie stiffens next to me. Her hand forms a ball in her lap.
I want to know why she left her old school in a hurry. Obviously, Brie isn't in Blue Ridge because she was suddenly nostalgic for the small town she was so eager to leave. I still remember the rawness in her voice that night infront of her house.Five months. Then I can get the hell out of Blue Ridge for good.
Something had to have driven her here. Or driven heroutof where she was before.
The impulse to find out what happened and what I can do to fix it is strong. But I want to learn the truth because she decides to tell me, not because her asshole friend pressures her for a good story.
Asshole, nice guy—sometimes there isn’t a big difference.
“Who cares?” I intervene.
Brie gives me the stink eye.
“She saved my ass,” I continue. “Our third grade teacher, Ms. Cook, eloped with someone she met over winter break and never came back. No notice or anything. I could’ve kissed Brie when she showed up.”
Pink crawls up her neck. My entire body is begging me to bury my face there and take a juicy bite.
“Wait,youwork at the elementary school?” Harvest asks, nose scrunched in dismay.
Out of the corner of my eye, Brie shifts, stink eye transferring to Harvest. Her shoulders square and she leans forward, as if to hear every word. If I didn’t know better, I’d describe her pose as defensive.
“I do,” I say as Doug drops off our entrees.
“I thought you were the mayor,” Harvest says, voice lilting up even though it isn’t a question.
“He’s theprincipal,” Brie spits, planting her hands on the table. “Between student teaching and actual teaching jobs, I’ve worked at more than a few different elementary schools, including two nationally-ranked private institutions. Sawyer runs his school better than any I’ve seen, and he’s universally beloved by everyone there. The teachers allspeak highly of him, and kids go out of their way just to high-five him. He’d be wasted as mayor.”
All I can do is stare as her face turns from impassioned to . . . shocked. I’d bet good money Brie didn’t mean to say those things about me, but the words are out there now.
There are pieces of her I’ve never understood, like how feisty-and-independent Brie always quietly accepted my public torments without a fight. But this? This makes sense to me. Brie might not be chatty, but when she does open her mouth, she only says what she means. It’s what’s always drawn me to her.
“Wow,” Harvest says, fixing her eyes on me like Brie suddenly doesn’t exist. They’re warm,toowarm, as they trace over me. “That’ssoooimpressive,” she drawls.
“I forgot how good the mushroom gnudi is,” Brie says a little too jaggedly, eyes shooting invisible lasers at Harvest, who’s all but ignoring her actual date.
“You’ve been here before?” Dev asks her.
I start to laugh. Of course Brie’s eaten here before, it’s one of the few restaurants in town. But Brie ducks her head, color tinting her cheeks.
Dev explains to Harvest, “Brie and I didn’t eat out much growing up.”
“Remember?” Brie answers quietly, eyeing Dev’s plate of seafood linguini. I fork some of my own seafood linguini onto her plate as she says, “I worked here over summers because The Square wouldn’t let me do doubles.”
Doubles?I knew from that night in the rain that, while I cruised around town with friends and our parents’ credit cards, Brie worked for her allowance, which she sometimes had to use on her pathetic father. But two jobs over summer break? And beyond that, it’s unfathomable her job here was the only reason she ever ate the food here.
