Maybe I could even teach some classes for women and LGBTQ people, since those spaces could seem or be unwelcome for anyone who wasn’t a straight man. It seemed like a way to take some of the good stuff my dad gave me and to use it to do more good.
Getting dressed, I decided to keep riding my good feelings, and I grabbed the lipstick. It was a red that could be kind of bold, but I liked that.
With just a touch of makeup, I suddenly felt like myself again, and I tucked my button-up shirt into my jeans and headed out the door.
I hadn’t told the guys about my idea, or River, for that matter. It was still taking shape in my head, which was one of the reasons I wanted to talk to Mr. Kooning. He was the only person I could think of who could tell me the basics about teaching woodworking and what I’d have to do to actually teach my own class. Since he’d already encouraged me, I figured I’d start there.
It was kind of embarrassing. I’d pretty much gotten over being insecure around Blake and Casey. But I still wanted to impress them, and sharing this idea felt like sharing a part of myself. I fully intended to do it right and to show them what I was capable of.
“Mr. Young,” Mr. Kooning said as I entered the small office he used on the edge of main woodshop. “What can I do for you?”
I stood in the doorway, and as I watched, his eyes landed on my painted lips. It was subtle, but somehow, I knew he was staring there.
My heart thudded, and anxiety prickled the back of my neck. “Hi. Do you have a minute? I have some questions about teaching woodworking classes.”
He stared at me. The encouraging but stern teacher was gone, and someone else was in his place. His lips were curled, like he was grossed out, and his eyes moved between my eyes and my lips.
Shit. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“What’s your question?” he answered coldly.
My anxiety spiked again. He hadn’t offered for me to sit down, so I just stood there, sweating and feeling embarrassed. “You said the other day that I could teach a class, and I thought about it more and decided I might be interested in doing that.”
His bushy gray eyebrows rose slightly. “I don’t think you’d be right, unfortunately. It’s a shame, someone with your talent.”
It felt like there was ice on my skin. My brain tried to process what he’d just said to me, and the more I thought about it, the more horrified I became.
I gritted my teeth together. “Oh? But you said—”
“I wouldn’t waste your time,” he interrupted, then turned to the papers on his desk. “I’m sure there are other things you’re good at. Have a good afternoon.”
I stood there, kind of in shock that he had dismissed me so quickly. I wanted to argue with him, but I couldn’t find the words, and even though I fucking hated it, the fact was… I felt embarrassed for myself.
Like I was some naïve kid after all, thinking the world could be a certain way, when everyone else knew it wasn’t.
I turned to walk away, frustration boiling and threatening to become tears, when behind me I heard Kooning cursing under his breath. “Damn queer.”
The words froze me. His voice was so soft, I almost couldn’t be sure, but no, I actually was sure. The humiliation of it all nearly overpowered me, but then I stopped myself.
Nope, I was done being embarrassed about things I shouldn’t be embarrassed about. I knew myself, and I knew what I was capable of, and I wasn’t going to let anyone tell me differently.
And when I went home that night and talked to my guys, I wanted to be proud of the story I told them.
I turned around, then walked straight back into the office. “Mr. Young—” he started.
“I’m a better woodworker than you are,” I said. “My angles are cleaner, and I work at a faster rate than you do, not that it matters. But you veer off early at the very end of your cuts, and your lectures are no fun, and you’d be lucky if you had me here teaching with you.” I sucked in a breath, then nodded. “And I look great in lipstick.”
Before he could speak, I turned on my heel and stormed back out. My heart was exploding and my cheeks were hot and I couldn’t believe what I had just done, but I had done it. And so I walked straight to the cubby where I kept some tools, then called a car to work.
I’d just sacrificed the woodworking class, and I couldn’t imagine returning to the studio anytime soon, but I didn’t care. I was high on what I’d just done. I’d learned all I was going to learn from that man anyway, and telling him off was one of the most freeing things I’d ever done.
But as the day passed at the bookstore, the other thoughts started to make their way in. Maybe woodworking and makeup didn’t mix, at least not for me. Maybe I was living in some fantasy where everyone would be as accepting as my guys were.
Maybe I’d fooled myself into believing a lot of fantasies. When I got back to the house and tried to talk to Blake and Casey, were they going to think I was out of my mind, wanting something more? Thinking a triad could be, what, a marriage?
No matter how much I tried to force the memory away, I still couldn’t un-see the way Kooning had sneered at me. That was hatred and disgust on his face, directed straight at me, and it was ugly as hell.
By the time I made it home, I was exhausted just from thinking about it all and worked up in an anxious ball about the conversation me and the guys were supposed to have. When I walked in and saw Blake standing there in the living room, it was like the bad feelings that had been simmering all day boiled over, and my emotions came exploding out.
