Page 20 of Interpreter

The music teacher cocks her head to side. “Do I know you?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

Intent on going back to Milah, I take a step back.

“Timaeus….”

Don’t panic. Lots of people know you from the foundation.

“Yeah, but—”

“Lambros! Penelope and Tom’s brilliant boy!”

Well, there goes the foundation theory.

“Come inside,” she says, pulling my arm and leaving me no room to argue.

“On a scale of ‘I would let him go down on me only after an expensive meal’ to ‘he could lick up the crack of my ass without telling me his name first,’ how hot are we talking here?”

Why is Felipe my only friend? Why couldn’t I have called up a fellow teacher and had drinks over grading papers?

Because I’m not a boring ass, that’s why.

“He’s ‘lick up my ass crack’ hot,” I reply with a nonchalant shrug, hiding my grin behind the glass tumbler clutched in my hand.

“You lucky bitch!” he singsongs, clapping his hands and folding his legs underneath him as if he’s settling in for a long story. “What’s the problem, Mami?” He waggles his brows. “Too much man for you to handle?”

Sharing this information with Felipe was a terrible idea. Anytime hotness is involved, he can’t be objective. He calls it dickbrain. Not love on the brain but dick on the brain.

Sighing, I sink into the leather of the bar’s most comfortable sofa and take a slow sip of the red wine Felipe poured us about ten minutes ago. “He’s not thrilled to be stuck with me.” I shrug like it’s no big deal that Tim barely glanced in my direction and purposely ignored my welcoming smile. I’m a nice person, dammit! He could have at least smiled back. He didn’t have to turn away and sign “I changed my mind,” to the woman with him. And when she shook her head and signed, “Too late,” he didn’t have to turn his lip up in disgust and force out a smile.

“Maybe he’s shy?” comes Felipe’s brilliant response.

He wasn’t shy. He was pissed. Tim wanted to be there like I wanted to hug Samuel.

I roll my eyes dramatically in Felipe’s direction. “And maybe I’m a virgin,” I pop off with way more bitchiness than I should after two glasses of wine. But seriously, Felipe wasn’t there. He didn’t see the way he reacted to me. It was like he was stuck in hell, forced to sing the gospel in A minor. And then he just walks out after seeing Oliver? What the hell? I mean, if this is the kind of professionalism I can expect out of him, then I’m going to need to speak with Principal Moorehouse.

Felipe burst out laughing. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he isn’t happy to be ‘stuck with you,’ but it was the first day. Give it time.” His bloodred nails trace up my leg in a loving gesture. “Who knows? Maybe you both can benefit from a little hate fuck.”

And it’s time to go. Wine o’clock is officially over. I chug the last of my drink and kiss Felipe’s contoured face. “The last thing I need is a man. Especially one as salty as this one. I don’t have time for drama.”

Felipe’s phone buzzes on the table, but he ignores the call. It’s Marcus, his boyfriend. Again. Since I’ve been home, he’s called over a dozen times. Apparently, they’re arguing.

I stand, correcting myself, handing Felipe his phone. “At least anymoredrama.” I give Felipe a pointed look. “Call him. It’s not even Friday. Don’t be a cunt.”

He gasps like he’s seriously insulted. He’s not. He’s just a diva—seriously.

“Pura vida,” I say on the way up to my room, wishing him a Costa Rican farewell before he opens the bar doors and I fall asleep with my noise-cancelling headphones on.

The next morning, I reason out that Tim is going through something that I will never understand. He’s entitled to be standoffish and a bit… asshole-ish. So rather than judge him on first impressions, I’m going to pretend today is our first day together. I can relate to being in a new environment and not knowing what the hell you’re supposed to do.

So, I’m only slightly bitchy when I try juggling the two coffees in my hand—yes, one is a peace offering to Tim—while attempting to open my car door that seems to be rusted shut. It isn’t. The damn thing just likes to piss me off by making me look like a complete idiot while cars are stopped at the light across from Magic Michelle’s parking lot. Finally—and after only a couple of horn blows—I’m inside the car and stain-free, which is a freaking miracle in itself. And if I didn’t already feel lucky enough, the angels shine down on me one more time, making the traffic a breeze. Once parked, I shuffle all my bags to one shoulder so I can hold Tim’s full coffee in one hand and my almost empty one in the other.

“Good morning, sweets,” Gretchen calls as soon as I enter the teachers’ lounge. “Is that for me?”

I try not to sound shitty. “You don’t drink coffee, Gretch. You said it gives you gas.”

Her Care Bear-size eyes go wide while she sweeps the room, searching for witnesses. “Can you not keep a secret?” she whisper yells at me.

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