Page 38 of Ancient History

“Did you ever come here in high school?”

“I wasn’t cool enough to have a fake ID.”

“Same,” I said. I forgot about the struggles of being underage now that I could go anywhere and not get carded. I could even rent a car, a fact which was less fun than it seemed.

Amos licked his top lip, one of his nervous tells. I liked that he was nervous. That made two of us. “Are you having fun by yourself in the corner?”

“It’s all right. Just scouting out the joint.”

“Are you planning to rob it later?”

“You’ve found me out.”

“Why don’t you come hang out with me and my friends?” Amos pointed his thumb behind him, and I followed it across the dance floor to a large hi-top with three familiar-looking fellow teachers.

“Your faux brothers,” I recalled from our message chain.

“Correct.” Good on him for having a tight-knit group. A twinge of jealousy hit me because I didn’t have something similar.

“Join us,” he said again.

“I don’t want to barge in on your night out.”

“You’re not barging. I’m inviting you.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes!” He rolled his head back and exhaled a heaving, frustrated sigh from deep within his lungs. He returned to normal and flashed me a fun little smile. “Must you make everything difficult?”

“Trying to live up to my bad ex-boyfriend image in your mind.”

“Mission a-fucking-ccomplished.” He grabbed my elbow, his fingers slipping onto my bare forearm, sending another current down south.

* * *

If I’d knownteachers could be this ribald, I would’ve hung out with more teachers earlier.

Amos’s friends were hilarious. They played off each other so well, it was incredible they’d only been friends for a few years. The hell of teaching hordes of puberty-crazed teenagers must have expedited their bonding.

“So, Hutch…” Julian bobbed his straw around his drink and had that look that made me steel myself for an awkward question. “What brings you back to Sourwood?”

“Pop–my dad, he collapsed a few weeks ago at work. His health hasn’t been great, so I wanted to take care of him.” I didn’t want to bring down the energy talking about Pop, but I felt an instant comfort around these guys. They were genuine.

“Is he okay?” Amos asked with grave concern.

“Yeah. He’s doing better. He’s being a baby about taking his medication and taking it easy, but what can you do?”

“If you need any help…” Amos started, then stopped himself. His eyes brimmed with concern.

“Thanks.” I went to pat his hand. Was that too much? An overstep when I was lucky to have a literal seat at the table? I went for it anyway. His thumb gave the side of my hand a stroke, a subtle caress that rivaled my drink for biggest buzz provider.

“Are you going to stay here once he’s better?” Chase asked, breaking that little moment between Amos and me.

“I’d like to. We’ll see how coaching goes. Hopefully I’m asked back for next year.” I caught myself. I actually…did like Sourwood. I couldn’t wait to get out of here when I was a kid, but now that I was back, the familiarity and friendliness was like a warm blanket. “I love it here.”

Amos met my eyes, and before I let myself get lost in their beauty and made things even more awkward, I rubbed my hands together.

“All right. I’ve been at South Rock for a few weeks. Give me the dirt on all the other teachers. We can’t be a group of gay men at a gay bar drinking fruity drinks without gossiping.”

---