Page 78 of Until We Meet Again

Thanks, Nancy.

"We have. It's nice to see you both away from campus."

"How are you finding it?"

"So far, everything has gone well. The students have made things much easier for me than I expected." I respond to Catherine, who gazes up at me with a smile. The art teacher is a petite redhead with long hair cascading down her back, perfectly complementing her purple-framed glasses.

"Most of those kids are little shits. I can't wait for the school year to be over."

My gut tells me that David is a dick.

"It sounds like you're in the wrong job, my friend." I flash a smile at the older guy. He looks to be in his early fifties, with a full head of gray hair and a face you'd expect to see on someone who hates his students.

"Of course you don't have a problem with them. They all want to be on your good side." David says it in a tone that I'm not entirely comfortable with and confirms that he is, in fact, a dick, and my expression must reflect that.

"You must've heard the whispers about the hottie teaching English, Zane." I turn my face toward Catherine and shake my head. It's true that I haven't heard anything, but I'm notoblivious to it. I see how some of these girls look at me, which makes me uneasy, but it's easily ignored. It's not what I'm about, and besides Tessa, I have never looked at a student in that way before. I never would.

"Yes, you seem to have piqued the interest of quite a few of the females at the school," Nancy adds, and I'm starting to see Tessa's point. Her attention's centered on me, giving off an air of confidence that feels different now that we aren't limited to the school's walls.

If there's anyone out there listening, please swallow me whole or get me the hell out of this conversation—the universe, Kimberley, God, anybody?

"Does anyone want a drink? I'm heading to the bar."

"I'll take another beer, please," David says as he slams his empty bottle on the table. At the same time, Nancy and Catherine shake their heads while holding their nearly full glasses of white wine.

Strolling over to the bar and wondering what the hell I'm doing here, I lean over and let my head hang low, taking a moment to myself as I try to mentally prepare myself for the night ahead.

This is not my thing.

At. Fucking. All.

I thought I'd be okay coming here, but I'm not. Everything here reminds me of Tessa; everything I do reminds me of her, and if I don't get a handle on my emotions, I'm going to end up going against everything I believe and everything I want—or thought I wanted.

I need to see her. I need to speak to her.

I snap out of my thoughts as Nancy's gentle touch on my shoulder and her voice close to my ear bring me back to reality.

"I’m sorry about David. He’s not to everyone’s liking." I turn to face her, and she takes her hand away. "Just ignore his little comments; that’s what I usually do."

I return to the table, following Nancy, after ordering David's drink and my favorite bourbon from the only man I've ever been served by here. The man who has a mustache that has curls on the ends that look like they're heading toward the stars.

"So, Zane, you've been with us for a while now, and this is your first time out with us." While sipping my drink, I give Catherine a nod.

"Not for lack of asking." Nancy throws out an awkward laugh before continuing. "Anyway, is everyone ready for graduation next month?"

"I wish I had more time with my students, but they're all ready for it," I say with confidence because there isn't a single student in any of my classes who's fucking about and not working to their full potential. Unless you count the issues I was having with Ashlee Johnson, but I think her ego took a knock, and she's calmed down since.

For the next hour or so, the four of us sit and talk, and I'm almost certain that Nancy and David can't stand each other. They're pleasant enough to a point, but both have an edge. Either it's a hate game, or they're desperate to fuck—either way, I don't want to be here for it. I sit and watch how they interact because, even though they do this every week, they don't seem to be having fun. Or are there usually more of them here? Or perhaps less of them? Maybe David doesn't turn up to these that often.

Considering he's the human version of a migraine, I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't usually invited.

I overhear Catherine and David talking about Rome and how she and her wife are going there for a couple of weeks this summer while I sit here listening to Nancy talk aboutShakespeare and how her love for all things Montague and Capulet led to an unhealthy fixation with Leonardo di Caprio, but then every girl I went to school with had the same obsession.

One minute, I'm being told that Claire Danes wasn't the right Juliet, and the next, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, and I quickly—and unintentionally—interrupt her.

"I'm sorry, Nancy. Could you excuse me? I need to take this."

"Sure," she replies with a smile.

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