Her phone swooshed with a text message, and she braced, thinking it was Carlotta, but instead it was Mick.
Dear, sweet Mick.
How’s it going?he asked. He must’ve arrived at his meeting, because Mick did not text while he drove.
She smiled as she texted him back.I already miss you, but this book is SO GOOD. Will you do me a favor and when you swing past my house to pick up my fleece—the desert nights were colder than she’d expected—can you also grab the books from my bedside table?
He answered almost immediately with the dancing man emoji.
She’d mentioned in passing that, to her, the dancing man looked like Cary Elwes, who played Westley inThe Princess Bride. And now Mick used it all the time. It was his emoji forAs you wish,and it made her melt a little inside.
She sent him a heart in reply.
The past was so clearly in the past, and here at the pool, with the man of her dreams thinking about her despite the miles between them, the present was pretty darn good.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jules: Age Seventeen
Connecticut
Mr. Harrison was grading papers at his desk with a red marker when Jules stopped, just outside his classroom, on Monday afternoon.
He’d dug a bit into that SOP or standard operating procedure that Mr. H had mentioned on Friday, after the altercation with Sneerface. Jules had discovered that there was no budget for guidance counselors at this tiny rural school, so the task fell on the staff, who were assigned to mentor the juniors and seniors as they contemplated their impending post-graduation options.
So he really wasn’t in any kind of trouble. This was just gonna be a quick exchange, like, “You thinking about college?” “I’ve already applied to UCLA.” “Great, see you later.”
Jules knocked on the half-open door.
“It’s open! Oh, hey kid. Come on in, grab a seat. Gimme just... ten... more... seconds... Done.” The teacher finished the paper he was working on, then pushed the entire pile to the side.
“Lucky you, you got assigned the new kid,” Jules quipped as he set his backpack down on the floor next to his chair.
“No, no, I requested you,” Harrison told him.
Really?
Harrison leaned back in his chair. “How’s it going, so far?”
“It’s... okay,” Jules said. He was still feeling his way among his brand new, ready-made, off-the-rack gang of friends. But having Belle and her wildly entertaining entourage in his classes, and going with them to get pizza after school on Friday had been a vast improvement over the earlier part of the week.
Saturday’s trip to the beach had been fun, too. Although when it was time to go home, Jules had gently but insistently taken the car keys out of Tom’s hand because the boy had consumed way too much of the cheap beer from their very large cooler, while Jules had just had one. The concept of designated driver seemed alien to them, but they rallied around the idea instead of mocking him for not drinking more, so that was a win.
Now Harrison was just sitting there, looking at Jules as if waiting for him to expound, so Jules let loose some of the many reassuring statements he’d gotten into the habit of telling his mother. “Being here’s a new experience, but college will be, too. I’m looking at this like a practice run. You know, honing my people skills, seeing what works, what gets me punched in the face. So far, negative on the face-getting-punched, so yay.”
Harrison laughed at that. He had kind of a weird laugh,just one short exhale, “Hah,” but it came out more like “Huh,” as if his amusement was laced with disbelief or confusion that the world could be so stupid.
He didn’t add any comments to his exhale as he sat there watching Jules.
Who’d answered his question and then some, so he sat and just looked back at Harrison.Your turn, Mr. H.
The clock on the wall was ticking audibly as the second hand swept around and then around again while Jules just waited.
“Hah,” Harrison laughed again, finally breaking the silence. “You interested in learning how to fight?”
That was not even close to the question Jules was expecting, so it was his turn to laugh. But the teacher was dead serious. Jules sat up. Leaned in a little. “You mean... self defense?” he asked.
“That’s part of it.” Harrison adjusted his mug filled with pens, lining up the handle with the front edge of his desk. “Sometimes it’s defending other people, sometimes it’s just... good to know. I learned a lot in the Marines and, well. I thought you might be interested.”
