“Oh my God. Okay.” Thank God he could talk about this now, because he felt like he was going crazy. “So there’s this cover band playing, right? And they start singing ‘Boyfriend.’ You know. The one where Dove Cameron is convincing some girl to leave her boyfriend—”
“Because she’s better in bed and all her clothes would fit, yeah. Hot.”
“Yeah, well. Imagine grinding to that song and all you can think about is how this guy whose hands have been all over you all night paid for everything you’re wearing. And that’s apparently something you’re super into.”
“Oh my God. You’re like, the world’s most natural sugar baby.”
He rubbed the back of his neck again. “Not gonna lie, I was really confused he wouldn’t let me return the favor. And then the next day he invites me over to justhang out. Who does that, Tori? Like yes, twelve hours ago I had my hand on your dick in some indie movie producer’s bathroom. Would you like to come over and listen to Taylor Swift and do a lesson plan while I play guitar?”
“I am really not seeing a problem here.”
“I was starting to think maybe he wasn’t, like, into orgasms! Weirder shit has happened.” Not to Jem, but still. “But it turns out he just didn’t want me to feel obligated. So he gave me a car because he knows that’s why I took the gig in the first place, that I needed to fix the Prius, and he said I could quit whenever I wanted.”
“So on a scale of one to ten, what are the odds of you walking funny on your way into work tomorrow?”
“Oh, like, fourteen.” Jem gave an incredulous laugh. “He gave me a car, so I’m going to drive it over there and—yeah.”
Tori held out her hand for a fistbump. “Get it, Jem.”
The conversation didn’t get any further, as the warning bell went, so Jem had to book it across the school to get to his classroom.
Somehow the morning passed quickly. Sometimes kindergarten was like that. This morning’s letter wasC, so theyspent some time brainstorming words that started with theCsound, likecarandcatandclock, which Jem misheard ascockand therefore almost resulted in disaster.
At lunch, he couldn’t resume his conversation with Tori—partly because she was on the phone with Ivy, who was hyperventilating about the nursery not being finished even though she wasn’t due for another four months, and partly because Jem’s own phone was blowing up.
He shoved a bite of sandwich into his mouth and pressed his thumb to the screen, hoping it was River.
Nope. It was Andrew.
Jem’s stomach tied itself in a knot. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about his mom giving Andrew his number and address. The wedding invitation was still sitting on top of his fridge, where he didn’t have to think about it.
Okay, where he didn’t have tolookat it, at least, because the stupid thing had been sitting at the back of his conscious mind, irritating him like a grain of sand in an oyster, ever since it arrived.
Jem was well aware the RSVP date—and the wedding itself—was fast approaching. But dealing with that right now felt impossible.
Unfortunately, he was going to end up dealing with it by default if he didn’t reach out or at least answer Andrew’s texts.
Sadly, with Tori preoccupied, he had no one to whine to and no excuse to put off the inevitable. If he didn’t make himself look busy, someone would come by and ask him about his new watch. Or his new boyfriend. Chances were that word would get around the school by the end of the day.
Jem opened the text message.
Hey, Jem. I know you need time to think, and I get it. I’ll be in LA Wednesday through Sunday for work. I’d love to meet up and apologize in person. Let me know.
Fuck.
The thing was, Jemdidwant to meet him. The worst that could happen was he still wouldn’t talk to Andrew, but he’d have closure about it. Best case, he’d have his childhood best friend back and maybe stop feeling like shit about how things had gone down between them senior year.
There were also some muddy middle-of-the-road scenarios, including ones where they repaired their relationship and Jem felt like shit about his present instead of his past. On his good days, Jem knew being a kindergarten teacher was important, knew he was damned good at it. He knew being a sugar baby didn’t make him less of a person, and he believed River genuinely liked him and wanted him around.
But sometimes he found it hard to remember all that when he thought about Andrew, their father’s legitimate son. The heir. The successful businessman with the beautiful fiancée. He’d made a name for himself in the software world. After his DUI, he turned his life around. And just like he had when they were teens, Jem was still dressing up in fancy clothes to get by. Only now it was River and not his father who was footing the bills.
“Jem, man, your sandwich doesn’t deserve that. If you’re not gonna eat it, I will.”
Jem blinked himself out of his funk and realized he’d plucked the crust off his bread crumb by crumb. He glanced up. “Hey, Frank.”
Frank nodded at him. “You good? Gremlins didn’t riot on you again, did they?”
You readClick, Clack, Mooone too many times and your kindergarteners would unionize and your coworkers would never let you forget it. “No strike this week,” Jem said. “Just family stuff.”
