Mia dropsher class off on Friday, right before lunch.
“I see you have Kyle, the one with his hands down his pants,” I murmur to her as her class files into the gym.
She agitatedly smooths the blonde strands in her high ponytail. It leaves a lump that I have an inexplicable urge to smooth down. I poke it with a finger instead. She slaps my hand away. “It’s like, nonstop,” she whisper-yells. “I don’t know what to do about it! His hands are always down there! You’re a boy. Help me fix it!”
“Boys just love their penises, no matter what age we are,” I whisper back, shrugging.
A kid that has to weigh almost two hundred pounds walks by. I lift an eyebrow at Mia in question.
“Sean. He has diabetes,” she whispers to me. “P.E. will be good for him.”
“Hey! Ms. Roberts’s class,” I yell once they’re all in the gym. “I put a bunch of basketballs on the side there. Start dribbling.”
Mia frowns at me. “This is their first day of P.E., Elias. Shouldn’t you be going over like, gym safety rules or something?”
I shrug. “Kids will be kids.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means, mind your business, Mia. This is my classroom, and last I checked, you were not my coach.”
She peeks around me. “Half my kids are sitting down, including Sean.”
“Their body, their choice,” I tell her.
“But they aren’t engaged, of course they?—”
I maneuver her tiny frame out of the gym, an easy feat. I notice that my hands cover the entire span of her slim shoulders. “Go take your prep, Mia,” I tell her, tugging once on her ponytail.
She grumbles, walking away, and I also notice the curve of her ass in her jeans. I shake my head.I need to get laid. Especially after Bathroom Incident. I make a mental note to text Leo on my lunch.
“All right, friends, get up,” I say to the kids sitting on the floor. “Time to participate.”
“How was school this week?” Leo asks me later. A bunch of us are out—Leo, some friends from college, Mia and a friend of hers who I’ve met a million times but whose name I can never remember. We’re at a bar in Nolita, one of those trendy ones that skews more cocktails over beer and more club over bar. A Leo-type finance bro place. The women here are of the drop-dead gorgeous influencer model sort. Usually I’d be all about it, but for some reason I can’t stop looking at Mia’s neck.
I shrug. “Same old. Kids will be kids.” I take a sip of my beer, the only drink in the place under fifteen dollars. “Oh, but they’re sending me and Meems to a conference in New Orleans next week. I’m psyched. All expenses paid vacation, baby.” She’s over in the corner with her friend, folded into herself on a stool, eyes flicking around the room like a scared baby deer.
“Your school can afford that?” asks Mike, an old friend from school.
“Nope,” I tell him, continuing to scan the bar, forcing myself to find the one for the night.There, I think. We make eye contact. I wink. She smiles.
“Nice to know our city tax dollars are being used so responsibly,” Grant chuckles.
I shrug. Not my problem.
Mia and her friend wander over to us, drinks in hand. I sling my arm around Mia’s neck. “I was just telling everyone that they’re sending us to that conference in New Orleans because we’re such amazing teachers.”
She shrugs, her shoulders moving my arm up. “Should be exciting.”
“Not that Elias is going to the conference,” Mike jokes.
Mia frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Relax, Meems,” I tell her. “It’s fine. He’s probably right,” I laugh.
She hums.
“How’s work going with you?” I ask Leo.
