Mia
EIGHT WEEKS LATER
South Bronx Classical
Friday
“Eight parents have pulled out.”
Lilly leaned forward in her seat. “Is it because of me?”
We were in Principal Rutton’s office, watching her settle into her oversized desk chair.
Her room had the kind of official feel that made it impossible to relax—spacious but overpowering.
The cream walls and thick navy-blue carpet were just too neat and tidy.
Her clunky wooden desk reminded me to put my teacher filter on, and the frames littering her walls reminded me that this was my boss, Lilly’s boss, and the last time we were in here, my best friend almost lost her job.
And this time? The look on Rutton’s wizened, round face could’ve melted paint. She wasn’t happy.
“No, it isn’t just you. It’s mostly the test score issue. The parents are upset with how we’ve handled this.”
I reached over and touched Lilly’s shoulder. When she looked up at me, I could see it all there on her face. She was anxious. And she was anxious because our last Language Arts head teacher spent the better part of last year forging her class test scores.
It was his insane attempt to convince the principal to fire her, but it backfired. When Rutton found out, he was let go, and Lilly was given his job. We thought it would end there, but it looked like our own attempts to smooth things over weren’t going well.
“What do you need us to do?” I asked, crossing one leg over the other as our boss rolled her shoulders back.
“There’s nothing we can do about the test scores. It is what it is. All we can do is make sure this semester goes smoothly. But with Shawn rolling out his statewide initiative, the two of you are all I have. I’m not sure we can make this work.”
I straightened in my chair. “I don’t see why we can’t. Our timetables are set, the students are streamed, and Shawn will still be here twice a week.” I waved my hand at Lilly. “She’s done her job. Everything’s handled.”
“Almost everything. We still have to deal with the Advanced Placement Program.” Lilly’s voice was soft but sure, and I hoped that meant she was feeling less anxious about all this.
Rutton stared us both down. Her tone was measured but condescending, and the more she spoke, the more I felt like a five-year-old.
“This is the most important program we teach here; it’s what sets us apart from other schools. We need to make sure it runs smoothly this year.” She stared at us like she was letting her words sink in, then asked, “Which one of you is taking it on?”
Lilly gripped her knees, and I knew she was telling herself not to fidget. She wanted to be in control of this, but she swallowed hard, her eyes dropped to her fingers, and I just–I wasn’t okay with Rutton heaping all this pressure on her.
“I’m doing it.” Both Lilly’s and Rutton’s focus swung to me.
“You’re doing it?”
The way Rutton asked made me itch to take my teacher filter off.
“It’s a lot of work, Mia,” Lilly said.
“Well, it needs doing, doesn’t it? And you’re too busy running our department.”
Lilly’s gaze searched mine. From the corner of my eye, I watched Rutton lean back in her chair.
A few moments beat by before either of them said anything, until finally, Rutton put me out of my misery.
“The parents are watching everything we do right now, and we need this program to deliver results. We need all five spots this year. Do you think you can manage that?”
Her tone was goading me, and I clenched my teeth. My filter was slipping.
“Yes,” Lilly answered, and I was grateful. I didn’t need to make things worse by sniping at our boss.
Rutton’s glance narrowed on Lilly. “Good. It’s up to both of you to get those spots, because if you don’t, I’ll have to find a new head teacher.”
Lilly’s breath caught in her throat, and a flare of irritation speared right through me. The words flew from my mouth before I could think. “You can’t just–”
Lilly put her hand on my shoulder, and I clamped my jaw shut. “It’s fine. I understand. The parents expect results, and as head teacher, it’s on me to deliver them.”
Rutton raised a brow. “And you’re comfortable with leaving this program to Mia?”
She nodded, and this time, she sounded firm. “Mia’s never let me down. She’ll get those spots.”
A flicker of warmth cut through my frustration. Lilly’s faith in me almost made me forget how awful Rutton was.
But then the principal’s tone brought me back to reality.
“She’d better. I’d hate to have to take back your promotion,” and just like that, I was back to biting my tongue.
Wrinkled Pages
Saturday
“No, I didn’t hook up with that asshole guitarist. Why would I?”
“Because you’re randy and he was cute,” Lilly drawled.
I scoffed into my phone. I didn’t care how cute he was–an asshole was an asshole.
“I shouldn’t have taught you that word.”
“What? Randy?”
“No one says it anymore.”
“Stop trying to distract me. I love Shawn, but that guitarist was one of the greatest things to come out of that fundraiser, and you know it.”
I rolled my eyes but gave in. “He was a bit ridiculous, wasn’t he?”
My best friend’s laugh was a shot of serotonin straight to my brain. I was smiling at strangers on the sizzling sidewalk, and they were staring back at me like I’d lost my mind. I held my phone tightly against my ear and kept walking.
“He was. Forget about the band, we could’ve met our goal if we charged admission just to see him. Women were drooling. Those eyes and that hair? Are you kidding me? It’s not right for a man to look that good.”
“Especially one that’s as big a grump as him. Nice to look at, awful to talk to.”
Lilly sighed, and it sounded almost wistful. “Maybe you should’ve hooked up with him. Enemies-to-lovers is my favorite trope.”
I huffed out a laugh and said, “Excuse me, have you been reading your horny novels again?”
“Mia, they’re not horny novels.”
I turned a corner and dodged another surge of sweaty New Yorkers. The summer break might’ve been over, but this bloody heatwave wasn’t.
“If an author forces two complete strangers into having sex, it’s a horny novel.”
I could picture her rolling her eyes now.
“Other things happen. It isn’t just sex from page one.”
I let out a laugh, and the person across from me gave me a look of disgust. I understood.
No one should be laughing with beads of sweat rolling down their back.
Most people were covered in suffocating business wear, which was just wild for a Saturday.
Meanwhile, there I was in one of my usual breezy boho dresses and sandals, swishing along the sidewalk like a British hippie from the seventies.
I definitely couldn’t relate to these poor sods in suits.
“Knowing you, you’re only reading them because they make your panties tight.”
I walked by a store, and as their sliding doors opened, a gust of cool air hit my neck. I almost groaned. Why did the bookstore have to be so far from the subway?
“Cowboy romances are your favorite, aren’t they?” I teased. “Do we need to put Shawn on a horse?”
Lilly grumbled, “Shawn doesn’t need a horse, and I’m not reading them for the sex. There’s more to them than that.”
I scoffed. “If there was more to them, they’d be part of the syllabus.”
“But there is more. Romance is about change. And healing. We could teach a whole unit on transformation through positive relationships.”
“They get their fill of that with Shakespeare, and we give our students too much of him as it is.”
She blew a breath through her nose, and my phone made that awful staticky noise in my ear.
“That’s a fair point.”
I could practically hear the gears turning in that people-pleaser brain of hers. After that meeting with Rutton yesterday, she was on edge. I had to talk her down, or she’d shackle herself to her laptop, and then I wouldn’t see her until the semester started.
“I know Rutton messed with your head, but you’re thinking too hard about this. Our classes are set for the rest of the semester. Just enjoy it.”
She scoffed. “Oh, like you’re enjoying it? What’re you doing right now?”
“I’m buying one bloody book, Lilly. It’s not like I’m donating a library.”
But expectations were pretty high.
It wasn’t lost on me that, though she could’ve handled it better, Rutton was right. The A.P.P. was the most prestigious program we offered at our private school, and after what happened last semester, our reputation couldn’t afford to take another hit.
But my mind was on Lilly.
For the sake of her career, she needed this class to go well. She was counting on me.
And I was going to teach the shit out of this program.
Every year, a select group of private schools competed for advanced placement into Ivy League universities, and this time, the theme was Breakouts: Texts That Shatter the Cultural Glass Ceiling.
My class was going to study a literary fiction piece titled Misplaced–a story about a teen going through loss.
I had a new student joining us on Monday and didn’t have a single copy I could loan her, which was why I was on my way to the closest bookstore I could find. My students wouldn’t show up to my class with blank faces. Not even the girl I hadn’t met yet. Too much was riding on this.
“It’ll be fine if she doesn’t have the book for a day,” Lilly reasoned. “She’ll probably need time to settle in.”
Not on my watch.
Lilly’s argument was a moot point anyway, because there it was–the bookstore sign. I’d never been happier to see the words Wrinkled Pages in my life. I turned the corner into the sliding glass doors, desperate to get out of the heat, and smacked straight into someone.
Immediately, my stomach dropped, and so did my tote bag. But I couldn’t look for it until I’d dislodged myself from this bulky blue wall of a person. He smelled of musky soap and felt firmer than anyone had a right to be.
The bulky wall grunted, took half a step back, and gripped my elbows. As I looked up, the surprise of seeing Theo’s face made me forget about my tote. I didn’t even notice that something had rolled out of it.
Still holding my arms, Theo led me away from the entrance as Lilly asked, “Mia? You okay?”
“I’ll call you back,” I answered, jamming my thumb on the end-call button.
As he let me go, I watched, stunned, while he bent to pick up my things.
Well. What were the odds?
I’d just been talking about him with Lilly. The last time I’d seen him was onstage during the fundraiser. He was a tattooed, broody nightmare. When it ended, I thought I’d never have to see him again.
And really, what was the point of living in a city as big as this if I was just going to run into him anyway?
His broad shoulders were tense as he handed me my bag, his blue eyes refusing to meet mine as he said, “Is this yours?”
Sitting in the palm of his hand was my purple bullet vibrator. Of course it slipped out and rolled across the floor–because why wouldn’t it?
I snatched it from him and refused to feel embarrassed. A woman does what she needs when she needs to, and no one was going to make me feel bad about it, especially not some asshole guitarist in an expensive blue polo shirt.
“What are you doing in a bookstore?” I asked. “I thought you could only read sheet music.”
His brows lifted, and for a second, I almost thought he was fighting a smile, which would’ve been a better look for him than his usual scowl.
With his stubbled jawline and tousled honey-brown hair, he reminded me of a midwestern cowboy who had just moved to the big city to ‘figure life out’.
I could picture him in flannel and denim, which wasn’t a stretch considering he already had an actual honest-to-god tan, which seemed like something a man got out in a field while wrangling cattle.
He would’ve fit perfectly in one of Lilly’s horny novels.
Someone just had to get rid of the business-casual polo shirt and dark slacks he was wearing.
I sucked in my bottom lip, thinking about panties tightening, as he stared down at me and said, “I just picked up a book for my daughter.”
I eyed the brown-paper-wrapped book in his fist. “Well, that makes more sense.”
He gave me the kind of nod that would’ve looked better if he had a wide-brimmed hat on his head, and oh my god, what was I doing thinking a thought like that? Lilly and her damn horny novels were getting to me.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mia.”
I scoffed. “No, it isn’t. I know you and the band hated me as much as I hated all of you.”
His lip twitched again, still fighting that smile, but he managed to control it as he said, “I don’t remember saying that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I missed rehearsals because I was busy.”
“Busy doing what?”
“Working.”
“On what?”
“My job, which is what I should be doing now.”
I gestured behind me and moved aside. “Well then, don’t let me get in your way.”
Something that almost resembled a smirk crossed his features before he went back to his default setting of unbearably broody.
This man towered over me. Not that that was saying much. Most people did. But his body almost leaned toward mine, like he was a breath away from caging me against the stack of books at my back. A shiver pulsed low in my stomach, and I pushed the thought away as Theo passed by without another word.
I watched him through the glass doors, and finally let out a breath. I didn’t realize I’d been holding it in.
There, I told myself, He’s gone, and I’m fine. No damage done.
Now, if the next semester could hold that sort of luck for me, I might have a fighting chance at getting those spots.
“Okay, let’s focus here,” I muttered to myself. “I just need that book.”