Page 95 of A Class of Her Own

Wednesday was terrible puns. “There might be other fish in the sea, but you’re my sole mate.”

Thursday he called the front desk at school and asked them to please have me call my boyfriend. This caused no end of delighted questioning by the entire office staff, which left me both amused and determined to pay him back. I’d responded with a text.

Me: I got a message asking me to call my boyfriend

Him: Spoiler, it’s me

And so on. I had a perpetual smile on my face, and even my students noticed. When I told them I was dating someone new, they insisted on cutting out hearts and writing messages on them for me to give to him, so, after school on early-out Friday, I taped them all to his front door for him to find when he came home. That had been a memorable night leading into a weekend filled with mindless togetherness. Chores were scrapped in favor of playing board games. Dinner ended up being frozen pizza and ice cream. I’d read once that your brain literally stopped working logically during the early phases of infatuation, and I could see that in the way that I didn’t care about dirty clothes or grocery shopping, only about teasing him and finding ways to make him look at me like he’d won the lottery.

And I laughed. I laughed more than I knew was possible. I laughed until my throat was sore and my eyes were watering, and then it turned into sobbing because I didn’t know someone could feel this much euphoria and survive it.

Monday morning found me on a happiness hangover. My mind tumbled over memories of the weekend, and a mixture of dread and excitement over what today would bring. Today was a special day. It was my birthday. I was turning thirty-six and couldn’t remember the last birthday I’d celebrated with someone I was dating. Willow and Ash were always sweet to send cards and call, and my friends always took me out for dinner, but today, I had a boyfriend. An actual boyfriend. I wasn’t sure what to expect, which Brooks knew gave me hives. The thing was, I hadn’t really told Brooks about my complicated feelings surrounding birthdays and holidays. I’d hinted at it but not admitted the full scope of emotion. I tended to have a knot in my gut every birthday morning even though the days of being forgotten were behind me. But those types of feelings were hard to shake. I didn’t know if he was a big birthday person or a low-key celebrator, and I was trying to be Zen about it.

When I entered my classroom promptly at 8:00 that morning, my friends were waiting for me. They had party hats on and blew whistles as I walked through the door. My initial foot-high jump followed by startled screaming quickly turned into laughter and smiles.

“Happy birthday,” they called, clapping and cheering.

“We brought you birthday breakfast since we know you have plans withyour boyfriendtonight,” Hailey said, holding up a tray of cupcakes.

I wasn’t against cupcakes for breakfast, even though I’d already had my overnight oats with fresh fruit and chia seeds. “Yum. Thank you.”

We ate around the back table, our knees banging up against the edges, and talked as we licked frosting off our fingers.

“Three dozen years you’ve been on this earth,” Ruby said. “How does that feel?”

“Like a lot. As the grandma of the group, I’d like to thank you all for keeping me young,” I replied.

“Three years doesn’t make you the grandma,” Aryn responded. “But something tells me we do keep you young.”

“I think I was born old,” I said, picking up a second cupcake.

“My parents say that about me a lot,” Hailey piped in. “They say I have an old soul. Probably why finding a good group of friends was hard until my twenties. I didn’t relate to boy-crazy, poster hanging, giggling girl drama in my teens.”

“Good thing you relate to that now,” Ruby teased, “or you’d never be friends with me.”

“Any advice, oh wise, elderly friend?” Aryn asked me.

I nodded with a serious expression. “Trust dogs. They’re good judges of character. Never trust cats. They hate everyone.”

They burst out laughing, and I joined in. We cracked a few more jokes until it was time for us to all prep for students to arrive. They all hugged me on the way out and wished me luck with whatever Brooks had planned.

The phrase ‘whatever Brooks had planned’ was what worried me.

Brooks picked me up at half past five, sharp. He was freshly showered with a newly trimmed beard and curly hair. I stood in the open doorway looking at him, amazed once again that this man had turned out to be basically perfect for me. He smiled and opened his arms, and I stepped into that familiar place, snuggling my nose into his neck as my arms coasted around his waist.

“Happy birthday, my little tiger,” he said.

I shook my head. “Don’t call me that. It’s demeaning.”

He squeezed me close. “Lioness?” I shook my head. “Slayer?” This time I scoffed. “The Ripper?” I pinched his back and laughed as he squirmed. “Warrior Princess!”

I leaned up and pressed a kiss under his chin. No one had ever dared tease me like he did and I secretly loved it. “Nicknames aren’t my thing. But I could start using one for you if you’d like.”

He nodded. “I have one prepared, already. I’d love to be called Hunky Monkey.”

I plopped my head against his chest and laughed. “No. That is not happening.”

“Just Hunky is fine if you’d prefer to shorten it.”

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