Page 77 of Napkins and Other Distractions
Geoff glances up from his screen and cocks his head. “And you’re ready for the training? The principal knows what to do?”
The principal. Kent. He most surely knows what to do. With his hands. His tongue. His cock. Sweat pools on my brow, and I grab a napkin from my pocket to wipe it.
“He knows. Or he will. I’ll make sure.”
Besides providing the data dump, Kent’s job is to champion and cheerlead the process. People don’t love change. Teachers are busy. Any way we slice it, this is a pain in the ass for them. I need Kent to sell it and bring teachers up to speed quickly.
Shreya arrives, holding a carrier with coffee and a white paper bag. She’s wearing a yellow and purple plaid dress belted at the waist and her signature black combat boots. The short sleeves let her tattoos shine, and she’s pulled her hair up into a messy bun.
“Coffee and cronuts,” she says, placing the tray on the conference table.
“What the hell is a cronut?” Geoff asks.
“What are you, a Neanderthal? It’s a croissant–donut hybrid. Flaky. Sweet. Heavenly,” she says, opening the bag. “I was up most of the night coding. Why I thought going live with Avandia and a project here at the same time was a good idea is beyond me.” She pulls a large pastry from the bag. It looks like a donut on steroids. “If you don’t want yours, I’ll eat it. Or split it with Vincent.” She gives me a mischievous grin.
“Oh no, I’m good,” I say, patting my stomach. The sticky, crumbly treat would require a truckload of napkins.
“I’ll eat it.” Geoff grabs the cronut, shoves it in his mouth, and resumes typing with his free hand while the other holds the treat.
“Okay, well, I’m going to make sure Kent is ready,” I say, heading to his office.
When I arrive, Kent and Ruth, the PE teacher, sit at his table, so I knock softly.
“Am I interrupting? I can come back.”
“No, come in,” Kent says, standing, “and shut the door.”
“So, this is the famous Vincent.” Ruth stands and extends her hand. I shake it, and the woman could strangle a rhino into submission with that grip. Her bicep flexes and expands as we greet each other, and I make a mental note not to piss her off.
“Oh, there’s nothing famous about me,” I say.
“This guy,” Ruth says, motioning her thumb toward Kent, “would disagree. He hasn’t shut up about you.”
“That’s not true.” Kent’s face tinges pink and, fuck he’s adorable when he’s embarrassed.
“Um, excuse me,” she says, sitting. “We’ve barely talked about my escapades for weeks.”
Kent nods to the empty chair, and I join them at the table.
“I used to be the one with all the action,” Ruth says. “At least, more action than this one. But now? Who cares about an old lesbian when the principal is shtupping the hot software guy?” Ruth laughs, her bright teeth shine, and I glance at Kent to gauge his reaction and how to respond.
“Ruth Parrish, first, you are not old,” Kent says.
“I’m going to be fifty.”
“In three years. You’re a forty-seven-year-old ex-Olympian with a body most thirty-year-olds would envy.” Kent dips his chin, and a shadow of a smile peeks from behind his beard.
“Quit objectifying my body, Mr. Lester.” Ruth smirks, and Kent chuckles. “Anyway,” she says, giving me the once-over, “I can see why Mr. Lester has been so smiley lately. You’re gorgeous.”
My face flushes, followed by my ears, and finally, the top of my bald head warms like a radiator. I know I’m not unattractive, but with all the issues I deal with, my appearance never seems to be the focus.
“Th-th-thanks,” I stammer.
“You’re embarrassing him.” Kent places his palm on the small of my back, rubbing little circles. I silently count each pass around. One, two, three, four, five …
“He’s a keeper,” Ruth says. “I can tell. I know queer people, and this one’s special.”
“For sure. He’s a mensch.” Kent nods, stopping the circles on my back at odd number seventeen.
