Indecision warred with curiosity, and Dylan looked over at the chatting boys half a dozen times before finally relenting with a brief nod. “Yeah. Okay.”
Heath hid his smile. He’d been teaching a very long timeand knew better than to get involved, but his many years of personal experience developing crushes on the wrong people motivated him to break that rule if it might spare the boy some suffering.
He leaned forward and gave the hallway a conspiratory glance. “Casually complain about the assignment while you guys are… doing whatever it is one does in that game you play. He aced it last year, and he’s the sort of guy who would offer to help you out.”
Marcelo was also just as interested in Dylan, if all the return glances were any sign. Of course, even in a place where LGBTQ+ saw acceptance, there was still a need for caution.
“Y’think?”
“I know.”
The grin returned, and Dylan leaned in for a fist bump. “Thanks, Mr. L.”
“Happy to help. Though I hope you realize I now expect you to ace it.”
A groan followed Dylan out into the hall, and this time, Heath set the laughter free. He was still chuckling when Abby, his classroom neighbor and workplace confidante, peered into his room.
“What’s got you giggling?”
“Young love and a flagrant disregard for authority.”
“Dylan?”
“Who else?”
Abby dropped into the chair he kept near his desk with an amused chuff. “God, it could be anyone. Is it me, or is spring fever out of control this year? I might assign a Sierra Simone series just to get these kids’ attentions off one another and on the pages.”
“That would certainly make the next PTA meeting interesting.”
“And you won’t even be here to watch them light my pyre.”
Heath leaned back in his chair and hummed a few bars of The Doors’ “Light My Fire,” which earned him a laugh.
“Are you all packed for your trip?” she asked, and his mirth faded. She’d ripped the disguise from his false indifference to expose the bleeding heart beneath.
“Almost.”
Her nose wrinkled at his quiet reply. “Crap. Forget I brought it up.”
Heath sighed, hoping it would muffle the bubbling of sorrow in his chest. He’d worked diligently over the past two weeks to compartmentalize his feelings, but as grief counselors so often stressed—everyone mourns in their own way and on their own schedule. As always, he was lollygagging.
“I’m excited, I swear,” he lied, feigning a sudden interest in the wall. He was no such thing.
“I know you’re lying,” she said as she stood and squeezed his shoulder. The break between periods was nearly over, and being the absolutely terrible friend she was, Abby planned to leave him a pathetic, introspective mess. “But honey, you deserve to have some fun. Please try to have fun.”
“I will, but—” He started another sigh, then tried for a laugh, and ended up croaking like a toad. Marvelous. “Dammit, Abby. If I’d thought I’d have to keep the damn promise, I’d have negotiated amendments.”
He’d been so sure. Blinded by visions of decadent meals and strolling hand-in-hand along pristine beaches, he’d gone forth with confidence, perhaps even arrogance. He’d declared this to be the moment, going so far as to claim an alignment of stars and planets, as though the universe agreed.
Abby gave his shoulder one more pat before leaving him to pout, and pout he did. It wasn’t fair. The trip hadn’t even been his idea!
All that talk of sinking their toes into soft, white sand while coming up with ridiculous names for the island’s pink flamingos.Marveling—from a safe distance—at sea creatures along the coral-dotted coastline, Christian’s lean, muscular body navigating a kayak through the waves.
He would pull Christian aside and, against the backdrop of the sun setting over the blue-green waters, finally admit his feelings.Finally,confess his desire to take their friendship to the next level—a dream he’d held since college.
Well, dreams were for suckers.
There would be no celebrating with the man of his eternal longing. No, he’d be alone, sequestered in a hut with his books, paperwork, and bugs the size of his head.
