Page 14 of The Hot Chocolate Hoax
“Yep.” There’s a great pub down the street, Eddie’s, that’s been there for decades. Nothing fancy, but they have great burgers and a decent beer list. Plus, we usually get out ofhere fast enough to make it there in time to grab a good table.
Once my classroom is clean, I focus on getting through a stack of worksheets. Deciphering study handwriting is always an exercise in imagination, but thankfully, it’s only a few words and not a whole essay.
An hour later, I’m sitting in a booth, sipping a local IPA.
“So, rough day?” I ask once we’ve both had a few sips.
“Ugh. I hate this time of year. It’s like every single one of them takes a shot of sugar and caffeine on the way in the door.”
“Yours, too, huh?” Silas teaches fifth grade, which sometimes sounds nice until I remember how sassy his kids are. They’re also figuring out that adults are not all-powerful.
“Yeah, today was particularly bad.” He takes a long drink of his beer, and I wait for him to elaborate. “You know Eric Rogers?”
I nod. I didn’t have him, but I had his younger brother last year. Super smart kid with lots of questions. Lots and lots of questions.
“His parents are getting a divorce, and he’s not taking it very well.”
“Really? I always thought they looked so happy.” That’s a standard refrain muttered behind closed doors throughout the school. It’s always the ones we don’t expect. I shouldn’t be surprised. My parents divorced when I was a teenager, and I never saw it coming. If someone asked, I’d have told them that they were as happy as could be right up until the day they sat me down and broke the news.
“I know. I saw them together at the open house in September, and they looked like a model family. His mom called me last week to let me know.”
At least they gave him a heads-up. “Eric’s misbehaving?”
“Yeah, pushing other kids around, talking during class. Today, he ripped up another student’s worksheet.”
“Yikes. Looking for attention?” I took one class worth of child psychology, but some things are easy to work out.
“Probably. I’m trying, but you know how it is.” Silas shrugs, and I give him a knowing nod. Our classrooms are packed with students, and as much as focusing on a single struggling kid is appealing, we have to make sure the other twenty-seven also get the attention they need. “I don’t want to think about it. Tell me about your fake boyfriend.”
I wince a little. Silas doesn’t know our families, but I didn’t ask Covey if I could tell Silas the truth. He probably wouldn’t care, but I probably should’ve asked first. “It’s… rough.”
“Trouble in fake paradise?”
“No, we get along fine. It’s more that we know everything about each other, right up until the age of about fourteen.” As much as I sometimes like to believe that I’m still young, I’ve outgrown some things in that time.
“Called that one.”
“It’s fine.” It’s not, but I don’t want to see how smug he gets if I tell him that he got the whole thing right.
“Is it?”Ugh.It’s as if he can look into my mind.
“It will be. We’re going to hang out a bit so we can get to know each other.”
“So, dating?”
“Not dating. Hanging out, like us.” I point back and forth between us. As far as I know, Silas is one hundred percent straight. Even if he wasn’t, I’m not sure I’d ever want to date him. We’re great friends, but there’s no chemistry.
“If you say so.” He takes a large gulp of his dark beer.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Aidan, I know you. You’re going to get attached to him. And then what? The fake breakup will break your heart.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Yes, I have a reputation for falling fast and hard, but that’s with people I’m in a relationship with. The thing Covey and I are doing doesn't qualify as a relationship. If we were going to get together, surely it would’ve happened long before now.
It’s taking us a little time to find our rhythm. That’s the only reason I’ve been nervous around him. We’ve been apart a long time, so it’s expected that it would take us a little time to reconnect.
“Is it?”
