Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sayla
“You did what?” Loren’s squeal boomerangs off the ceiling of the theater.
“Believe me,” I say. “I’m as surprised as you are.”
After Dex and I met with the faculty to update them on our plan for the SACSS visit, Mr. Wilford freed everyone up “to pursue individual staff development.”
I interpreted this as catch-up time with Loren. So I dragged her straight to the empty theater, where I knew we could talk alone. Now we’re sitting in the front row, directly across from the orchestra pit, with the stage lights illuminating us.
“So how was he?” Her question is a strangled laugh. “I mean, how was the kiss? On a scale of one to ten.”
My cheeks pink up, and I’m almost embarrassed to admit how amazing at kissing Dexter is. “I’d have to say a solid twenty.”
Her eyes go wide, and she shakes her head. “So what does this mean? Are you guys seeing each other now?”
I glance around the room, as if a lurking student might somehow overhear us. But fall break isn’t over. The kids won’t be back until Monday. Only teachers and staff are on campus. Developing.
“We’re still coworkers, and you know my policy. Plus, we’ve got to buckle down and focus on the accreditation for the next few weeks. And the FRIG hasn’t been announced either.”
I so badly want to share the news about the offer Dr. Dewey made. Dexter’s transfer would smooth out all our obstacles. But it’s not my story to tell. Yet.
The kissing definitely is.
“I hate to say I told you so, but”—Loren wags her eyebrows—“Dex is a babe. Right?”
“Oh, my friend.” I guffaw. “You have no idea.” Now I’m picturing him dripping wet, fresh from the shower. Wearing only a towel. And his tattoos.
“There’s more?”
“No.” I gulp.
I’d love to tell her about the tattoos. Especially the one he got with his sisters, in his mom's handwriting, but Dex made me promise to keep that to myself. And I won’t betray his confidence.
“Come on, Say.” Loren puts on a pout. “You can’t drop a line like, ‘You have no idea,’ then leave me hanging. That’s cruel and unusual punishment. And probably against the best friend law. Anyway, you know you can trust me.”
I do know I can trust her, and that means everything to me. So I grasp at an alternative. Something sweet I didn’t promise to keep secret.
“It’s just that … he has a teddy bear,” I say. “From when he had a tonsillectomy as a kid.” Since Dex talked openly about the bear during the icebreaker activity, I don’t feel like I’m breaking any confidentiality laws now. “The bear’s name is Clarence. And he keeps it in his office.”
“Shut up! That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” She lays a hand on her chest. “No wonder you kissed his face off.”
“Well, it doesn't matter anyway,” I tell her. “Because we already decided the kissing thing can’t happen again.”
“But whyyyy?” Loren whines. “Things were just starting to get interesting.”
“They were. Until good old Colleen Kroft let all the air out of our make-out balloon.”
“Your mom?” Loren narrows her eyes. “What does she have to do with this?”
“She called right in the middle of all the kissing to tell me her wedding’s off.”
Loren’s face falls. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. But are we really surprised?”
She sighs. “I suppose not.”
“Her timing was either the best or the worst, depending on how you look at it. Either way, after she interrupted us, Dex and I sort of went to our separate corners and cooled off.”
“But then you guys talked everything through today,” she says. “Like adults.” These are statements, not questions. And I cringe. Because no. We didn’t.
“Weeeeelll …”
“Sayla.” She frowns. “You need to have a conversation.”
“I know. But we spent the first part of the drive back from Camp Reboot talking about the FRIG, and the second half discussing how to tell everyone about our plan for the SACSS visit. By the time we got here, we were running late for the faculty meeting. We barely had enough time to change.”
“All right, sidebar.” Loren grins. “I love the way you two announced the whole role switch thing. You showing up dressed in Gray Squirrels workout gear with a coach’s whistle around your neck, and Dex dressed like some play director with that yellow boa around his neck? Hilarious. And brilliant.”
“Thanks.” I preen a little. “That was my idea.”
“So okay, then. I get why you didn’t talk earlier. But why not after the meeting?”
“Because the minute we were done, Mr. Wilford excused everyone, and Dex disappeared with him. So I dragged you here to update you on the twenty-out-of-ten kiss.”
Loren wrinkles her nose. “Hmm.”
I tip my chin. “What’s with the face?”
“Aren’t you the slightest bit worried that Dex is in Wilford’s office right now making his final pitch for the grant money?
You both went to this retreat determined to win the grant.
How do you know Dex wasn’t just trying to get your guard down the whole time?
And kissing you last night could’ve been the final move. ”
“Yeah.” I swallow against the lump in my throat. “I was kind of hoping you’d talk me into trusting him.”
“Oh, I can absolutely do that.” She lifts her hands. “Honestly, I like Dex. He’s a great guy, and also a babe. It’s just that you spent the past three years campaigning to convince me he’s one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse.”
“Actually, Dex is afraid of horses.”
“Ha! Are you two besties now?” Loren lets out an exaggerated scoff. “Should I be nervous I’m losing you to him?”
“Never,” I say. “And the truth is, I questioned his motives, too. On the drive home. I think he was offended, which I understand, if he’s innocent.”
Even as I say this, my palms start to itch, and I fight the urge to start chewing my cuticles again, but I take a deep breath.
Things are different now, Sayla. You know Dex.
You can trust him. You can trust your judgment.
“So you believe him,” Loren says.
“It was his idea for us to stop competing and let the chips fall where they may. He’s committed to his department, yes. But he’s also got a ton of integrity. I really do think he’ll keep his word.”
Loren pretends to fan herself. “Listen to you talking about Dexter Michaels like he’s dreamy.”
“I hate to admit he kind of is.”
“So why on earth did you pump the brakes on the make-outs? Oh, right.” She smirks. “Your mom interrupted.”
“Yes, that. And we can’t afford to make things any more complicated before the SACSS visitation.” I press a smile onto my face. “Which was a very mature decision, if you ask me.”
“Boring.”
“Intelligent.”
“Agree to disagree.” She lets out a laugh. “But should we circle back to the late-night call from your mom? Did Eugene bail on her? Do we need to go beat him up?”
I groan. “This time, my mom’s the one doing the bailing. And get this: It’s because he told her he didn’t want to get married on Christmas.”
“Huh.” Loren tips her chin. “Getting married on Christmas actually sounds kind of cool.”
“That’s what my mom thinks. Either way, it’s a ridiculous reason to break an engagement. But on brand for her. Now she’ll probably decide she has to quit her job and move again. Which just reminded me why it’s a bad idea to date a coworker.”
Even as I say this, my brain goes into debate mode.
Against me.
Dex isn’t Eugene or any of the men your mom’s dated. And after he transfers to Harvest High this spring, you won’t technically be working together anymore.
My brain has a point. But I can’t talk about this with Loren yet.
“Try not to worry too much about your mom.” She tucks a wave of long red hair behind her ear. “I’m just glad you and Dexter aren’t enemies anymore. Now maybe we can—”
A clacking whoosh comes from the front of the theater.
Someone’s hauling open one of the double doors.
Loren and I both look up the aisle just as Dexter appears in the entryway.
His large frame blocks out most of the light behind him.
When he peers inside, his gaze lands on me.
He’s still got the yellow boa draped over his shoulders.
This man. What a sport.
“I thought I might find you two in here,” he says, making his way into the theater. “Hey, Loren. Foster’s in the faculty lounge waiting for you. He mentioned something about you two going cake tasting?”
“Yay, cake!” Loren chirps. “I’ll go find him now.” She pats my knee and rises to smooth her skirt. “Good luck,” she whispers before heading out.
My heart skitters as Dex approaches, coming around the front row.
But there’s no reason for me to be anxious.
He isn’t an enemy. He’s a colleague. One I’ve worked with closely for three years now.
A hot colleague with a crooked smile, sure.
But I’d like to think I can trust him to keep his word.
So I’m not worried he’ll go after the grant behind my back.
Much.
“What a day, huh?” I shrug, trying not to be captivated by the cowlick in his hair.
The strong slope to his nose. That small scar on his left cheekbone.
All the details I’ve memorized lately without even realizing it.
“I think our meeting with the faculty went well, but I was so nervous. Where’s Fern with her breathing and stretching exercises when you need her? ”
Dex chuckles. “I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty I am not breathing with my feet right now.”
He tosses the yellow boa onto the chair next to me, and I hop up to greet him. But my vision swims, and my legs feel like noodles.
“Whoa, there.” He reaches for my elbow to steady me, and a spark of energy pulses up my arm. “Go ahead and sit,” he says. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“Uh-oh.” I force a laugh, even as my insides begin to stutter. “Are you suggesting an actual adult conversation?”
“Maybe I am.”
I try to act nonchalant as we drop into side-by-side seats, but my heart is a jackhammer. Being this close to him, alone, is messing with my self-control.
“So, I just met with Wilford.” He dips his chin, hands folded in his lap, and every bit of confidence I’ve clung to flies up to the rafters. What if I was wrong to trust him? Could he be here to tell me he won the grant money after all?
“Don’t!” I blurt, in a total knee-jerk reaction. I’m just not ready to hear him let me down like that.
He startles. “Don’t what?”
“Just … stop.”
He reaches for my hand. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No. I … you … no.”
His face falls. In fact, he looks stricken. And the realization dawns on me too late that Dex has only good intentions. It’s just my gut that’s always bracing for bad news. Prepared to mistrust others. Assuming I can’t trust myself around them either. So I push everyone away first. Just in case.
Before they can reject me.
“You’ve been so great,” I admit, through my clogged esophagus. “It’s me. I have a hard time trusting people, that’s all. But that’s not about you or anything you’ve done.” My voice cracks as I make room for the vulnerability I usually bury.
“You can believe me, Sayla.” His voice is deep and throaty.
“I do.” I meet his gaze with watery eyes. “Believe you, I mean.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” He blows out a breath and drags a hand over his hair. “Because I just told Wilford to give the grant to you.”