Page 53 of Love and Other Chances

“You would have been great at that, Teeg,” Brooks affirms. “I mean, you’re clearly amazing at what you’re doing with Arrow, but I could totally envision you in that kind of education setting.”

I look down, nudging chips around the nacho plate. “I’ve . . . well, I’ve been sort of considering trying teaching instead of continuing on staff with Arrow.” I murmur it quietly, not making eye contact.

“Then try it,” Brooks states matter-of-factly. I look up at him. “Give it a shot if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know. I may have missed my chance.” I sigh. “Even though I completed student teaching and got my degree, I never got my teaching license.”

Brooks bursts into laughter. “Teegan, you have not missed your chance. Getting your license wouldn’t be hard. Schools are dying to have more quality educators. Plus, you’re amazing. You’d have a position offered to you the second your license came through.”

I eye him, trying not to let my thoughts run away with themselves. “It really wouldn’t be that hard?”

“No. I promise it would be easy. And I’d help you through all the steps,” he assures me.

I pop a chip in my mouth to buy time. After chewing slowly, I shrug again. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about. I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do.”

“It’s not like you’re making a lifelong vocation decision,” Brooks muses. “It could be thenextright thing that God’s moving your heart to, like staff with Arrow was the first right thing out of college. He places passions on our hearts, gives us talents and gifts for a reason. If you have this burden to help kids learn, it might be there for a purpose. So keep thinking about it. I’m always here to give you a clear picture of the education world—the fulfilling and the frustrating,” he finishes with a grin.

I grin back at him. “I mean, you do have all that ‘Mr. Murphy rizz’ the middle schoolers were raving about.”

Brooks groans and bangs his head against the table. “I’ll never hear the end of that from you, will I? Just like I’ll never hear the end of it from them until you and I are dating.” He pops his head up with a smirk. “Oh wait—I can hear the end of it from them now.”

Playfully smacking his shoulder across the table, I give him an exaggerated glare. “Let’s not publicize this to the whole middle school quite yet.”

“I won’t do anything until you tell me to, Sneaks,” Brooks says. His gaze turns sober, heated. “Not a single thing. I won’t risk screwing this up.”

After two more rounds of insane trick shot HORSE bowling (winners redacted), Brooks drops me off at home. He walks me to the front porch, and so many memories of this exact scene play out in my mind. It’s a familiar groove, yet distinct at the same time. Like déjà vu, where you have the same vibes but different precise details.

We pause on the porch, both reluctant for our time together to end. Brooks rests his hands in his pockets, and I know it’s a move designed so he’ll keep his hands to himself. It’s therightmove for our first date, but it also feels unnatural since it feels more like a hundredth date.

These second-chance waters are so murky right from the start.

I draw in a breath to thank Brooks for the date, but he beats me to the punch. “Teegan, thank you for going out with me tonight. Thank you for . . . for everything.”

There’s so much heat, so much intensity radiating from his steel blue eyes that I’m milliseconds away from plunging head first into the murky waters.Would it be so bad to kiss him on a first date that’s only kind of a first date?

Yes, Teegan, it would be bad. A week ago, you weren’t sure if you were going to date him at all.Control yourself.

“I had a really,reallygood time tonight,” I answer. “Although, you set the fun date bar pretty high—not sure where you’ll go from here.”

Brooks smirks. “Oh ye of little faith. But speaking of next dates, I did want to let you know that the next two weeks are a little crazy for me. I have my finals for my master’s courses this coming week, and then I give midterms to my students the following week. So if I’m less available or attentive, I swear it’s not because I’m not thinking about you. That’s literally all I do these days, which is both elating and exasperating.”

“Look at you with the fancy adjectives and alliteration,” I tease, but then my expression softens. “I promise not to take it personally.”

Brooks steps down off the porch, turning one final time to call “Goodnight” over his shoulder.

Once inside, I grin like a fool in the emptiness. Despite the semi-late hour, I text the Beefs.

Awake? Video call?

AMAYA

I’m still up, but Lana might be asleep an hour ahead

A minute later a video call rings through from Lana, and Amaya immediately pops on after I answer.

“Yeah, right—you forget I have finals to study for,” Lana says before yawning.

“But it’s Saturday night! You shouldn’t be studying!” I exclaim.

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