Chapter 2
Huxley
Once the year elevens begin the diagnostic assessment, I sit and take a deep, steadying breath. So far, the morning has gone better than expected. None of the kids have been smart-mouthed or tried to push the boundaries.
The students at Brighton are all from wealthy families. They likely have parents with high expectations that they do well in their studies. If a parent pays thirty thousand dollars a year for tuition, then they expect results.
I didn’t grow up in this world. I went to a government school and got bullied. Part of the reason I want to teach in a private school is because I hope that it will be nothing like my high school experience.
The last few nights, I’ve had God-awful dreams. Students yelling out, “You’re gay” in the middle of assembly and as I walk down the corridors.
I’m completely comfortable with my sexuality now, but there were years in my teens that were fucking unbearable.
I guess I still carry some of that around.
A huge part of my decision to become a teacher was to be a role model for kids like me: the misfits, the neurodivergent kids, and, most of all, the queer students.
To do that, I’ll be visible and open about who I am.
It means I’m going to wear my pride badge on my jacket and put a rainbow flag on my desk.
But since today is my first day, and I’ve got enough to think about, I left them at home. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, I’m happy to see there’s only thirty minutes left until lunch.
The teacher I met this morning, Oliver Sinclair, said he’d introduce me to everyone, but my social battery is already dead.
I need some time alone so I can make it through until the end of the day.
But…spending time with Oliver would have its benefits.
He’s absolutely my type. He’s tall, like six foot two or three, muscular and broad, and has the most infectious smile. Oliver is fucking hot.
At recess, I searched for his profile on Insta—Jesus, that’s embarrassing—but his account is private. Not surprising since they advise all teachers to keep their private lives hidden from the student cohort. But now I can’t stalk him.
My face flushes thinking about how awkward I must have been this morning—staring at the guy’s perfect face and body while I spoke too fast and walked even faster. Seriously, I cannot get caught up in another straight boy crush.
I’m currently stuck in a dry spell after splitting up with Bradley a year ago.
But it’s time I got back on the horse, or, in this case, on a cute guy.
I need to put myself out there, but Grindr hook ups aren’t really my thing.
Maddie, my best friend, tells me to have a little fun, but that’s easy for her to say when she and her girlfriend, Lara, are practically married.
Being a gay man isn’t always easy, and it seems like wanting a committed monogamous relationship, even marriage and a family someday, is nothing but a pipe dream.
I glance at the clock again—only ten minutes left—and wonder if Oliver will drop by and pick me up. If not, I can hang out here in my room and enjoy the quiet. But I kinda do wanna see the hot P.E. teacher.
After collecting the students’ assessment sheets, I dismiss the class and attempt to look busy at my desk, shuffling papers around. I don’t want to appear as if I’m eagerly awaiting Oliver’s arrival, even though that’s precisely what I’m doing.
When five minutes pass without a sign of him, I get to work on marking rather than waste more time.
“Hey, did you survive?”
Oliver leans nonchalantly against the door frame like he’s a model in a magazine. I can’t help but smile. He remembered me.
“I did,” I say. “It actually went well. I didn’t even have to send anyone to the principal’s office. But there’s always the afternoon, I guess.”
“True.” Oliver laughs as he walks into my room. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He holds up a bag. “Did you remember to bring your lunch?”
“Ah, yeah, it’s in here.” I pick up my satchel and place it on the desk. “Not that I’m hungry. I never eat much when I’m stressed.”
Oliver plonks down on the edge of my desk.
“That’s understandable. My first few days here were rough.
I got lost more times than I could count and I kept getting all the students' names mixed up. And, worst of all, a boy fell over in my very first class and broke his arm. I thought I was going to be sued for negligence and lose my teacher registration. So I completely understand how you’re feeling. ”
I laugh, clapping a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh, but that does sound really bad.”
“Yeah, it was.”
Oliver holds my gaze, his sparkling brown eyes and soft smile rendering me speechless. He’s looking at me like… No, it’s not that! He’s just friendly.
Oh shit, it’s my turn to speak, isn’t it?
“Do you just wanna have your lunch here?” Oliver asks. “It can be overwhelming meeting so many people on your first day. I can always introduce you to the other teachers tomorrow.”
My eyes drop to Oliver’s mouth. I can’t help it; his lips are full and completely kissable. Hang on, is he trying to get out of having lunch with me? Oh God, he probably is. Realising I’ve created another uncomfortable silence, I lift my eyes back up to Oliver’s and is he sweating?
“We could have lunch here,” I say. “But if you don’t wanna be stuck here with me, I completely understand. Please don’t feel like you need to babysit me.”
Oliver frowns and bites down on his bottom lip. Okay, that’s cute!
“Of course I wouldn’t mind being stuck here with you. I mean…no…that’s not what I meant. What I meant is, I wouldn’t be stuck here. I’d love to have lunch. Here. With you.”
Is Oliver flustered? “Okay then. Let me get you a chair.” I hastily grab one of the student chairs and place it on the other side of my desk, then return to my seat.
Oliver starts to remove his jacket, then seems to change his mind, finally sitting down with it still on.
He really seems nervous. He wasn’t like this earlier in the day.
His cheeks are flushed now and, maybe I’m just projecting, but I swear his eyes travelled down the length of my body when I stood up.
Maybe he’s not straight, maybe he’s not straight, I chant repeatedly in my head as I pull out my lunch. Because there’s either something going on here between us or I’ve recently read too many romance books.
Admittedly, the odds are on the latter.
Maybe I should just slip I’m gay casually into the conversation. Or perhaps I should keep my mouth shut and enjoy the fantasy a little longer.
Taking the tiniest bite of my sandwich, I watch Oliver continue to spread the contents of his lunch over the desk.
I guess being six foot something means you need two giant rolls, a bag of chips, a banana, a donut, and a freshly-mixed protein shake.
Oliver’s shoulders are about two feet wide, so he probably needs the calories.
Not complaining: I wouldn’t mind being crushed by his arms or his thighs. Whatever.
“So, tell me, Huxley, what made you wanna be a teacher?”
Taking a dramatically deep breath, I gather all the courage I can muster and blurt out, “Well, it’s a long story, but I guess it’s got a lot to do with me being gay.”
Oliver freezes with his roll mid-air and his mouth open. Slowly, he lowers his arms and raises his eyes until they meet mine. I don’t know him well enough to read his expression, but he smiles and says, “That’s…great. Since we’ve got twenty minutes of lunchtime left, tell me all about it.”
So I do. I tell Oliver about my high school English teacher who was a proud lesbian.
How she advocated for me when the bullying started.
But Oliver seems to tune out, his eyes glazing over, lost in his own thoughts.
I don’t think this was a good idea. I quickly wrap up my story.
“So really, if it wasn’t for Ms. Miles, I probably wouldn’t be a teacher.
” I pause, wanting to rock in my chair, but I suppress it.
“Am I talking too much? Shit, I’m sorry, Oliver. Am I making you feel uncomfortable?”
Oliver blinks, then sits up straighter. “No! Not at all. I think it’s inspiring.
Your teacher sounds amazing, and there must be many LGBT+ students here who would benefit from having a role model.
As far as I know, we don’t have any other out teachers here.
” Oliver cocks his head and frowns. “Which is strange, come to think of it.”
“Do you think Principal Williams somehow sends a message that it’s not okay for teachers to be out?” My stomach sinks.
Oliver chews on his donut while he considers it. “Maybe,” he mumbles.
I take a few gulps of water, hoping to swallow my negative thoughts at the same time. It’s stupid to always think the worst.
“You know what?” Oliver says. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think Williams is like that. Just be yourself. You’ve got my support.”
“Yeah?”
“Hundred percent. My best mate, Koa, is gay. We grew up together. I know there’s still plenty of homophobic people out there, but it’s gotten so much better. Koa's an incredible ballet dancer. He recently moved to New York for his career, but he’s been through his fair share of shit. So I get it.”
“Your best mate is gay?” I ask. I’m pleased Oliver's not homophobic, but I’m disappointed because it probably means he’s straight. If he was anything else, he would surely mention it now.
“Sure is. Next time he comes home I’ll introduce you.”
My body literally deflates like a sad, broken pool floatie. Does he want to set me up with his one and only gay friend? Well, this sucks—and not in the good way! “Sounds great,” I murmur into my sandwich.
“Hey, are you on Insta?” Oliver picks up his phone. “Can I send you a follow request?”
“Sure. I’m Hux underscore Sinclair.”
Oliver searches for me and a request notification pops up on my phone.
“Now you can find me if you want to follow back. We should exchange numbers, too. If you want. That way, if you have any teaching questions outside of school hours, you can just text me.”
I accept the follow request and send one back. Oliver quickly accepts and then passes me his phone. “Put your number in. Hey, are you feeling okay? You haven’t eaten much.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I add my details into Oliver’s phone, then send myself a text before passing it back. “I texted so I’d have your number, too.”
Oliver’s checks flush a pretty pink, and he hurriedly packs up his lunch. I worry I said something wrong. I know there’s zero chance of him being interested in me, but I’d still like to build a friendship.
“Um, I should get going,” Oliver says, standing. “I need to duck over to the admin building before afternoon classes. This was nice. Having lunch together. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
I stand and button my suit jacket. “Thanks for welcoming me. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You too.” Oliver backs up a few steps before turning and heading off.
I glance at my watch, then check I have everything ready for period five.
There’s no doubt Oliver is a nice guy. He’s a bit like a giant teddy bear rather than the usual sporty type. More sweet-and-kind and less slap-you-on-the-back-hey-bro-have-another-beer. But why does he have to be so hot!
“What am I doing?” I groan, dropping my face into my hands.
My first day on the job and all I can think about is the sexy P.E teacher.
Please God, I pray—even though I’m an atheist—let Oliver discover he’s a one on the Kinsey scale.
Is it too much to ask? With only a few minutes to go before the bell, I text Maddie.
Me: Help! I have a crush on the sports teacher.
Mads: For the love of God please don’t tell me he’s straight!!!