Page 35 of Class Act

“Heather wasn’t a big fan, but initially she came because I liked it.” His response was halting, as though he was dragging the words out against his will. “Eventually, she said she couldn’t get into it, and it was something I could do on my own.”

I dared a glance back at him. He had a far-off look in his eye as he spoke, not really focusing on anything. “Her name was Heather?” I asked, like I didn’t already know.

“Yes. Like Hillary said, it started with an H.”

“Which is fair because they all had your last name,” I repeated Hillary’s words.

One side of his mouth raised in a sad sort of half smile. “Makes sense, right?”

I wasn’t sure if it did or not, but it wasn’t my place to dissect that situation. “Only if it didn’t hurt your feelings.”

He blinked, and his expression transformed back to the easy one I was used to seeing. “It didn’t.”

I kept any further thoughts to myself as the lights dimmed. I was happy to lean closer to my mom and watch the stage as the music picked back up. Even sitting next to Ford couldn’t distract me from Carmen. The music swelled, and my heartbeat picked up, matching it beat for beat. I loved the second half of the opera, the music and acting, all of it. My hands gripped the arms of my chair and moisture filled my eyes after a particularly beautiful song. When it was over I leaned more fully against the back of my chair and reached up to dab under my eyes.

A white tissue appeared as Ford said, “That was incredible.”

The low, gentle, and intimate tone unraveled all my best plans to keep him at bay.

I took the tissue and dabbed away the wetness before balling it up in my fist and refocusing on the stage. Only, I couldn’t focus anymore. Knowing he was sitting there, loving opera as much as I did, knowing he too felt the power behind the music, well, it was a distraction.

His soft breathing stole my thoughts, and every shift of his leg brushing against the skirt of my dress was a jolt to my system. His shoulder bumped mine, leaving confusion when he didn’t pull away. For the last twenty minutes we were touching, shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee. I wanted to pull away, but more than that I wanted to snuggle in closer to the strength and warmth coming off him.

When the last note was sung and the audience sprang to their feet with applause, I was more than happy to join them. I stood so quickly that I wobbled on my heels, but Ford reached out and steadied me before I could tip over. Once I was standing firm again, he let go and joined in the clapping. I didn’t dare look at him or say one word. I kept my eyes down as we gathered our things and left. When it was my turn to say goodbye to him, I said it to his nose, too scared to look into his eyes and let him see the vulnerability and longing in mine.

Even more scared of seeing something else entirely in his.

CHAPTER TEN

It took me almost a week to admit it, but after some time spent separating fact from fiction, I fully accepted that I was lonely. I was lonely enough that I’d created a pretend world in my mind where I got all the benefits of love without any of the risks involved in dating. Once I’d accepted that, I was ready to do something about it.

I’d given Aryn the official green light, and midway through the week she had approached me with the name of a guy who she thought would be a great fit for me. Although my heart had beat hard in my chest with nerves as Aryn gave me the rundown on him, I’d accepted, and tonight I’d be going on my first blind date ever. I was only a little panicky about it.

His name was Shane, and he was a friend of Ayrn’s brother. Shane had been divorced almost two years ago and was ready to get back into the dating scene. I didn’t have anything against a divorced person. I was realistic in understanding that dating at my age often meant dating men who had experienced some things. However, I did wonder if his heart was still broken and what we’d have in common. I was trusting that Aryn knew me well and would be selective in who she set me up with.

We had agreed to meet at a local restaurant for a light dinner and then he said he had an after-activity planned and to dress in layers. Layers meant cold, which didn’t exactly leave me with an excited feeling. I was kind of a fair-weather person and made it through the northern Utah winters with a lot of wool socks and hot tea. Still, I was keeping an open mind, so I dressed in jeans, a blue sweater that did amazing things for my eyes, and my best pair of leather boots. I shoved mittens and a scarf in my purse before heading out with my coat draped over my arm.

When I entered the warm lobby of the Thai restaurant he’d chosen, my eyes immediately started scanning the people around me for anyone meeting the description Aryn had given me of a tall man with black hair and a mustache. It was a busy Friday night, the lobby filled with a mix of college kids and middle-aged parents out for a free night. He saw me before I saw him, and a tap on my shoulder had me turning around. I had to stifle a giggle. Aryn had said tall, but she’d meant gargantuan. I wasn’t short at five foot six, but Shane was probably at least six foot five, and my eyes had to climb forever before landing first on his mustache and then up to his eyes. His shoulders were broad, and he blocked some light as he leaned toward me.

“White hair, dressed nice? You must be Hailey,” he said in a gruff, low voice.

I smiled up at him, amused at the description of me. It was lucky he hadn’t tried to pick up a ninety-year-old. “Hi Shane, nice to meet you.”

He offered me a huge hand that fully enveloped mine as we shook. “I was already seated. Our table’s over here.”

I followed him through to the back of the dining area where there was a small two-person table pushed up against the windows. His large coat was hanging off the back of the chair, tickling the ground, and I thought about Aryn and her extra tall brothers. She probably thought Shane was a normal height.

“So you teach school with Aryn?” Shane asked, sitting down.

I nodded as I took my seat. “I do. I teach second grade. What do you do?”

“I’m an accountant for the university,” he replied, picking up his menu.

A sudden image of a floor full of cubicles with his head and shoulders popping out of the top made me want to grin again. “Do you like it?”

He glanced at me and pursed his lips in thought. “I’m not sure if it matters. A job is a job. Pays the bills, and I don’t dread going to work.”

Okay. Fair enough. I picked up my own menu and looked over it even though I already knew what I wanted. The Massaman Curry here was to die for. I wanted to ask Shane more about his thoughts on not needing to like work. It was an interesting concept, to not be seeking for his passion but to only see it as a job that paid the bills. So many people put work first and wanted it to be their identity. Did it mean he wasn’t driven to find more, or did it mean that he was content and laid back? It was probably a healthy mindset in some ways.

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