“Were students flicking their paintbrushes again?”
“We weren’t even painting today. Which means I did it at home and left the house this morning without noticing.”
I chuckled. “You’re a mess.”
“Tell me about it. Thanks, Sean, for the heads-up before I walked out the door.”
I grunted a noncommittal reply. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her boyfriend. It was just that—
No, I didn’t like him.
Not because he was with her. I wasn’t jealous or anything. He was just one of those guys who made you want to put a fist through his face just for existing. You know the type. Douchey and a little doughy with a cocky sneer he couldn’t back up.
I didn’t know what Penelope saw in him, but it wasn’t any of my business. I tended to avoid saying anything when he came up in conversation. Getting my sandwich out of my paper lunch bag and taking a bite was a good excuse not to comment on Sean and his lack of warning that she had paint on her nose.
“Why are your lunches always so boring?” she asked.
“What’s wrong with a ham sandwich?” I asked around a bite, eyeing her glass container filled with a colorful salad-like concoction. “Why are your lunches always so pretentious?”
“At least tell me there’s cheese on that.”
I pulled open the bread slices to look. “No. Forgot.”
“Ugh, just ham? And this isn’t pretentious; it’s a chopped salad. It’s healthy and also delicious, thank you very much.”
I swiped her fork out of her hand, dug into her salad, and shoved a big bite in my mouth. Damn it, she was right. It was good.
“Okay, fine. This is better than my sandwich.” I stuck the fork in her bowl and started to drag it in front of me. “Can we switch?”
Our fingers brushed as she put her hands around the container and pulled it back. “Absolutely not. It isn’t my fault you suck at packing lunches.”
Involuntarily, I flexed my hand—the one that hers had touched—and I jokingly scowled at her before taking another bite of my stupid sandwich.
“The recipe isn’t hard,” she said. “I use variations of it for meal prep all the time. You can make a big batch, portion it out, and then eat it for lunch every day.”
“That sounds like planning and work.”
“Theo, you’re a teacher and football coach. You plan things all the time. Lesson plans, practice drills, formations, starting lineups.”
“I know, which is why I don’t meal prep. You think I have time to do more than throw some ham on bread?”
She snort-laughed. “You’re a big boy. I’m sure you could figure it out.”
“Boy?” I gave her a crooked grin. “Honey, I am all man.”
Another snort-laugh. She was actually pretty cute when she did that. “Sure, you are.”
I opened my mouth to fire back when Ashley, another of our colleagues, came in. She was around our age and taught English. But that wasn’t why Pen and I pretended we weren’t watching her, while absolutely watching her.
She was totally hooking up with Jeremy, who taught history and social studies. At least, Pen and I were convinced they were hooking up. We’d been trying to find out if we were right since school started in September.
I kept an eye on Ashley while Pen shifted in her seat so she had a view of Jeremy. Ashley got a drink out of the fridge, then chose the seat right behind him.
“So there’s that new movie out,” Pen said.
“Yeah, looks good. Maybe I’ll go this weekend.”
There wasn’t a movie. We were just covering. It wasn’t like we were going to spread gossip about our coworkers if we did find out the truth. Pen and I wouldn’t tell anyone—we just wanted the tea for ourselves.
