Chapter 4
Nate
Shoving through the door to the teacher’s lounge, I head straight for the coffee pot after an intense round of dodgeball with my sophomores that somehow ended up with me joining in and kicking all their asses.
My shirt’s still sticking to my back, and I’m hoping the caffeine will get me through the last class of the day.
I stop at the sound of laughter.
I recognize Layla, loud, carefree, but the other one is more hushed.
Like someone who doesn’t laugh out loud very often.
“Talkin’ ‘bout me, ladies?” I ask, strolling toward the coffee pot.
“Oh yeah,” Layla says, without missing a beat. “We were just talking about how good your ass looks in those jeans.”
Iris gasps, scandalized, and I think I hear a thump under the table.
“Hey now! Don’t be lookin’ at my ass.”
Layla cackles while Iris glances down at her cup with color rising on her cheeks, the crude comment making her blush.
Fuckin’ cute.
But I can’t help but notice she looks different than last week.
Sure, she was awkward when we talked, but I can’t blame her. She doesn’t know me, and I approached her out of nowhere. It’s not like I was making my attraction to her a secret either.
Today, she just seems uncomfortable, a tension that wasn’t there when I talked to her in the hallway.
“You okay?” I ask, even though it ain’t my place.
Something about seeing her like this, I have to check on her.
“Mhm,” she responds, still staring down at that damn cup.
“Some of your team weren’t being very nice to Iris today,” Layla jumps in, giving me a pointed look.
I frown, a flicker of anger coursing through me.
I know my team. Most of them are good guys, but I’ve seen the way they treat the kids who don’t quite fit the mold. The way they mess with their teachers, especially the new ones.
I try to shut that shit down, but it was going on when I was in school, too, and I know there isn’t much I can do about it. But the thought of them messing with Iris, making her look like this?
I don’t like that at all.
“It was nothing. Everything’s fine,” she says, but I shake my head.
“It ain’t fine if they’re makin’ you upset. I don’t like to see that, Ms. Patel.” Her eyes meet mine for the first time. “You’ve got enough to deal with being new. You don’t need them making it harder.”
She presses her lips together, like she doesn’t know how to respond. And maybe she doesn’t, maybe that was too much, but I mean it.
That sad look doesn’t belong on that pretty face.
“I’ll talk to ‘em,” I add. “Promise.”
The guys are crowded in the locker room after a long practice.
Everyone needs a shower, myself included, but there’s something I gotta address first.
I’m standing near the whiteboard, arms crossed, while they pile into the small space. “Alright, listen up,” I say, raising my voice.
The chatter dies down, and a few seniors straighten up at my tone.
Alex is perched on a bench near the back, earbuds in like they always are these days, looking at his phone. Probably playing one of his phone games, waiting on me for a ride home.
Kid needs to get his license.
I turn my attention back to the team. “Heard some of y’all were acting like little punks in art today.”
That gets their attention. Some snicker. Jamal elbows his buddy.
“We were just jokin’, Coach. Wasn’t that serious.”
“If it wasn’t that serious, why does she look like she’s second-guessing comin’ to work here?” That shuts ‘em up real quick. “She’s new. She’s trying. And from what I hear, she’s damn good at what she does. Now, you don’t gotta love art, but you will show her respect. That ain’t negotiable.”
Trey pipes up from the back. I should’ve known. “She’s pretty, ain’t she, Coach? That’s what’s got you all worked up?”
A ripple of laughter rolls through the locker room.
“That ain’t the point.”
“C’mon, Coach, you crushin’ on the art teacher?”
“Y’all need to worry less about my personal life and more about pass coverage,” I mutter, but I can’t help the way my jaw clenches.
“Aww, Coach got a cruuush,” Cam says, making the team start up again.
And okay. That’s enough.
“You boys got time to joke, you got time for extra drills,” I threaten, a collective groan following.
I let it linger a second, then add, “If I hear anything else about disrespecting Ms. Patel, people are gonna start gettin’ benched, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Coach,” They respond, properly scolded.
I scan the room and notice Jason isn’t even watching me. He’s got his head turned toward the back of the room. “I’m over here, Barnett.”
He snaps back to attention, looking caught.
“Yes, sir, sorry,” He mumbles.
“Alright then.” I clap my hands. “You’re dismissed. Hit the showers. And don’t embarrass me in front of the pretty teacher again,” I offer, throwing them a bone after chewing them out.
They perk up, shouting over each other. “I knew it, Coach!”
“Oooh, Coach got a girlfriend!”
I head to my office and grab my stuff, expecting to see Alex waiting when I come back out.
He’s not.
Must’ve found something better to do.
The living room is dim except for the flicker of the TV and the light from the kitchen. I’m parked on the couch, half-watching the end of the game, a cold beer sweating on the coffee table.
It’s late, well past nine, and Alex still isn’t home.
That’s not so late, but it’s not Alex. A good night for him is playing video games in his bedroom or messing with his guitar.
Maybe I should be glad he’s out having fun.
I check my phone for the fifth time.
Nothing.
The screen lights up right as I set it down, and I quickly pick it up, expecting to see Alex’s name pop up on the screen, but instead, it’s Liz.
I try not to be disappointed.
“Hey, sis,” I answer, hoping the nerves aren’t audible. “How’s my favorite niece doing?”
“I’m telling Sammy and Margot you said that.”
“Hey, now. They’re all my favorite nieces.”
“Right, sure they are.” She laughs and then cuts herself off with a painful groan. “I’m horizontal with a heating pad and a tub of ice cream. Baby girl is kicking my ribs like she’s trying to make varsity from inside the womb.”
I chuckle, sinking deeper into the couch. “Taking after Uncle Nate already.”
“Yeah, well, she needs to calm the hell down. My back is killing me.”
“How’s Calvin holding up?”
“Better than me. Snoring like a damn freight train.”
“Man’s gotta rest up, y’all are about to be losing a lot of sleep. He still serious about that fishing trip?”
“Uh-huh. He was talking my ear off about it last night. I think he even bought a new rod.”
“Course he did,” I mutter. “He keeps this up, I might actually let him catch something for once.”
“You boys better enjoy it now. Once the baby’s here, he’s not going anywhere but the diaper aisle.”
Liz is still talking about her plans for the nursery and how I might need to help build the crib when there’s a thump from the front porch.
“Hang on,” I say into the phone, getting up and going to the front door.
It’s Alex.
Finally.
I open the door as he’s fumbling with his keys.
“Hey,” he says too quickly, not looking at me. Hood up, earbuds dangling from one side, backpack slung over one shoulder.
The boy put me through the wringer worrying about him, and all he’s got to say is “hey”? I’m not letting that slide.
“It’s damn near 10 o’clock,” I say, letting a little bit of my worry bleed through.
He shrugs. “Got caught up. Sorry.”
“I’ll call you back,” I mutter into the phone. “Alex just walked in.”
“Everything okay?” Liz asks.
“Yeah, talk soon.” I hang up and turn to my brother. “You could’ve texted.”
“I know.”
“Location’s off.”
“Yeah, sorry. Battery died.”
“Your phone’s in your hand.”
“It came back on.”
I let out a slow breath, trying not to let my irritation take over my common sense. He’s a teenager doing what teenagers do. Everything’s fine.
He’s home safe.
“You hungry?”
“Nah. Ate with friends.” He still won’t look at me.
“What friends?”
He shrugs, heading toward the stairs. “People from school.”
“What people?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because you’re seventeen and you were being all quiet with the door like you were trying not to get caught.”
He sighs and shakes his head, pushing his hair back. “I’m fine, Nate. I’m just tired. I wanna go to bed.”
“Look, I get it. I was your age once. I just want to know you’re okay.”
He doesn’t answer, heading toward his bedroom without another word.
I watch him until he disappears, my heart feeling heavy in my chest.
This ain’t like Alex.
After practice, the school parking lot is mostly empty, with only a few scattered cars and a group of kids still lingering at the edge of the lot smoking.
And Layla, leaning against her beat-up Honda Civic, scrolling on her phone.
I’m walking to my truck, keys in hand, my mind still on Alex and his weird behavior from a couple nights ago. We haven’t talked about it, and he’s been normal, but I’m worried.
About what, I’m not sure.
Alex is a good kid. I know I should trust him. But something feels off.
“Well, well,” Layla says, sliding her sunglasses up onto her head, pulling me from my thoughts. “If it isn’t Coach Wesley himself, looking like he’s got something on his mind. A rare occurrence.”
I force a smirk onto my face. “Always got something on my mind. Usually ain’t worth talking about.”
I lean against Layla’s car since it’s been a few days since we’ve caught up. She’s a good friend.
We started teaching the same year and have been friends throughout the last, hell, almost a decade.
“How’s the ole ball and chain?” I ask, referring to her husband, Grant.
He doesn’t like me much, and the feeling is mutual. Guy’s a dick.
She raises her eyebrows. “I thought I was supposed to be the ball and chain.”
I scoff. “No way. It’s definitely him in your case. Weighing you down, not wanting you to hang out with the coolest person in Rosehill.”
She snorts. “You wish.”
“I don’t gotta.”
“Something’s bothering you,” she says, her gaze narrowing, like she sees right through me.
“It’s Alex. He’s been, I don’t know. Off.”
“Teenage boys are always off.”
“Yeah, but he’s not usually sneaking in late and acting like I’m the FBI when I ask where he’s been. Shit, I don’t remember a time that boy didn’t tell me exactly what he was doing in way too much detail.”
“You think something’s going on with him?”
I let out a slow breath. “I don’t know. But it’s sitting heavy.”
Layla opens her mouth to respond when someone catches my eye.
Iris.
Her floral dress hangs on her thin frame, her dark hair flowing down her back in messy waves.
She’s damn beautiful today.
I wave, and she waves back awkwardly, instantly putting a smile on my face.
When I look back at Layla to continue our conversation, she’s staring at me with a big knowing smile. “What?” I ask, my tone too defensive to play innocent.
“So, Iris?”
“What about her?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. Why does everybody gotta keep calling me out over my little crush?
I admit it, I think she’s pretty.
So what? I’m sure everybody else feels the same way when they see her.
How could they not?
Layla doesn’t say anything, just waits with her eyebrows raised until I sigh and scratch the back of my neck. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“No way,” she shoots back, all fake shock, like she already knew.
Which she didn’t. I’m not that obvious.
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
She grins. “You never talk about your feelings. This is the first real confession I’ve gotten out of you in years. I’m taking a moment to appreciate it.”
“It ain’t a confession. It’s an observation.”
“So you don’t want to take her out?”
I don’t say anything to that. I hate when she’s right. “That’s what I thought.”
“I’m serious, Layla. She’s—” I pause, looking down at the cracked pavement. “I think she might be the real deal.”
I glance up and watch the clouds move slowly across the sky. I don’t like talking about shit like this, but hell, Layla already knows.
“I want to know her. Actually know her, not just sleep with her.”
Layla whistles, “Damn. You like her.”
I let out a disbelieving breath. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
“So why haven’t you asked her out yet?”
I shrug. “Didn’t want to be weird. She’s new, probably still trying to get her bearings. Besides, what would she want with me?”
Layla swats me on the chest with the back of her hand, ring and all. “She’d be lucky to have you, Wesley. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
“Damn, that hurt,” I complain, rubbing the spot. “I was thinking I might ask her to dinner. Nothing big, just something to get to know each other outside of work.”
“For what it’s worth? I think she’d say yes.”
“Really?” I ask, skeptical.
“You’re a catch, Nate. She’d be crazy not to.”