Page 12 of Under His Sheets
“Alas, I am a lone gay wolf. Not cougar bait.”
They burst out laughing and all hugged me.
“Well then, we shall have to keep our eyes open,” Josette said, waggling her eyebrows. “Alonso came a few weeks or so ago? Never speaks to anyone, only to Lara, so I cannot confirm his status.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” I said, trying to play like I wasn’t hanging on her every word. I happened to know that Alonso was into men, but I wasn’t about to admit that to them, nor how I knew. My little secret.
“I’ll admit this to only you three,” Camille said. “He’s shit at cleaning. He can fix things well enough, but I vacuum my own carpet and clean my own desks now.”
“Does it really matter how well he cleans, though?” Sasha said demurely. “He contributes so much beauty to our school, don’t you think?”
“Definitely.” Josette said. “A one-man beautification committee.”
The three women giggled again, completely aware they were being ridiculous. They weren’t mean-spirited at all in their appreciation for Alonso. I was pleased they’d taken me under their wing. It had been a long time since I’d had a group of women friends.
The subject changed as I paid for my purchases to whether any of them were going to go home for the holidays. We were back to our complex before it was my turn to answer that, no, I would not be going back to the States anytime soon. I thanked them for inviting me to brunch, and after all the hugs and cheek kisses I was still getting used to, I went up to my apartment, cracked open the bottle I’d bought for myself and sighed as I realized it was exactly the right one.
Inspired, I pulled out a brand-new notebook and put pen to paper. Without a band in mind, I was free to write whatever kind of music I was feeling. The words that began to come out of me were hopeful, curious, flirty. How to know theallof another person. If Alonso wasn’t going to acknowledge me, I could wonder. The possibilities were indeed endless.
The next morning I arrived early and snuck into the custodian’s workroom. I located a desk where there were a few leftover condiment packs and napkins, which I assumed was where he ate. I was about to set the bottle, in a brown paper bag, and the mostly blank thank you card that I’d merely signed myname to on the desk, when I noticed a student schedule printout sticking out from the top drawer. Pere Ferrer’s schedule.
Why would Alonso have Pere’s schedule?
I opened the drawer and there was also a printout of his demographic screen, with his address and list of emergency contacts. What would the custodian be doing with student information like that?
Sure, I was the one snooping, but that didn’t make my discovery any less suspect.
I checked my watch and realized my first student appointment would be arriving in fifteen minutes and I hadn’t yet organized all of my sheet music for the day. I turned on my heel and sped out of the custodian’s room?—
And smacked right into Alonso.
His eyes went wide. I couldn’t help the flutters in my stomach—equal parts excited and suspicious, but then…what was I supposed to say?
“I’m sorry, excuse me,” I said.
“¿Necesitas ayuda?”
That voice. I fucking melted into a puddle of sensory memory. It washed over me like?—
“Señor Sutter? Necesitas ayuda?” he asked with an irritated tone, not making eye contact.
“Um, no, gracias.”
The flutters in my gut crashed to the bottom and sat so heavily I might as well have had a brick in there. Why was he being like this?
He opened his mouth to say something else when a group of kids came running into the hall, distracting us both. I turned to tell the kids not to run, and when I turned back, he’d gone around me and slipped into the custodian’s room. I wanted to see the look on his face when he saw my gift. That would tellme whether or not he’d been hit over the head or something and didn’t remember me. But he shut the door.
How could he act like we were strangers? We’d been so good together, or was that just my imagination? Was I such a bad lay? So easily forgettable? Maybe I should add this to the list of causes for bands to break up: Rule Four, forgettable front man. God, could my ego take any more of this shit?
I trudged back to my classroom in a foul mood, only to find Pere Ferrer sitting outside on the ground, looking more miserable than me.
“Pere? What’s the matter?”
He perked up. “Bon dia, senyor Sutter. I was hoping I could stay with you this morning? I don’t have class until after morning break and I usually go to the library, but I was hoping I could practice on the piano with my headphones?”
Aw, my first little teacher’s pet. “That would be fine with me, Pere, but you should get a note from the librarian. I don’t want either of us to get in trouble.”
His face lit up and he nodded. “I’ll go see Mademoiselle Arnault for a note.” He ran for the door and I called out for him not to run, but he was out the door before I finished speaking.
