Page 113 of Ancient History

We enjoyed our slow dance, my head on his shoulder and the blissful feeling of things feeling right in my world.

“This is the best prom I’ve ever been to,” I said.

“Is it what you imagined?”

“No.” I kissed him, one in a long line of kisses I planned to give him throughout our lives. “Better.”

31

HUTCH

Afew weeks later, there was much celebrating to be had. It was the end of another school year, the end of my first season coaching soccer, and the (re)start of a wonderful relationship with Amos.

On the final day of exams, Aguilar had the teachers over to his house for karaoke and cocktails. He lived in a cute house with his boyfriend Clint, who had a mini apple orchard growing in his backyard, and Clint’s nephew Terence who’d graduated from South Rock two years ago. Clint worked in construction and had added lots of little custom touches throughout the house, like unique moldings and a special shelf for Aguilar’s cacti collection.

Chase and the science teachers played beer pong on the patio table outside, while Raleigh was double-fisting two drinks.

It wasn’t only students who needed to let off steam after another school year. And here I used to think teachers dreaded the school year ending. For some reason, I pictured them solemnly returning home dreading three months without us.

I was very wrong.

“Hey Rafael, is it possible to make me a triple Rum and Coke?” asked Marnie Washington, a seemingly mild-mannered English teacher who wore cute skirts and cat-eye glasses. It was weird hearing Aguilar called by his first name.

“I don’t have a glass big enough,” Aguilar said back.

“Then I’ll do a Rum and Coke and two shots of rum on the side.”

I raised my eyebrows. If only students knew what their teachers were like.

“Don’t give me that judgmental face, Hutch Hawkins. I already have students emailing me questions about the summer reading list and parents complaining about the books I put on there. You think coaching a bunch of kids to kick a ball into a net is tough? Try getting them to read Ernest Hemingway.” She downed both shots and waltzed away with her mixed drink.

I held up my beer to her back. “We’re on the same team, Marnie.”

She swiveled around and blew me a playful kiss, then joined her fellow English teachers.

“Maybe I should do a shot,” I said to Aguilar.

“You should!” Clint swooped in to help Aguilar behind the bar, which consisted of giving the principal butterfly kisses. Clint’s flannel and worn-out jeans were a sharp contrast to the shirt and tie Aguilar had on. They made a freaking adorable couple. “You deserve to celebrate!”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“Don’t be modest. You led the Huskies to regionals.”

“We lost regionals.”

“But you got there! In your first season as Coach,” Aguilar chimed in. “That’s very impressive.”

Amos swept in next to me. “You got the team to its first regional championship game in five years despite losing your top player to an academic scandal. Your team had its highest goal average and passes per game average in two years. I’d say that was impressive.”

Amos had been studying his soccer stats and regularly watching games with me, and it was such a turn on to listen to him talk sports.

He held up the shot to my lips. “You deserve this.”

I supposed I did. Bergstrom officially offered me a contract to stay on as soccer coach. Even Coach Legrand called me and congratulated me on a great season. Yeah, we weren’t regional or state champs, but there was always next year. Not bad for a rookie coach.

So maybe I did deserve a celebratory shot. I downed it before I could second-guess myself.

I wrapped my arms around Amos’s slim waist. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

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