2. Sage
I’m catching my breath, remembering I even have breath, as Eloise breezes in. She’s practically a fireball, full of heat and direction, and when she sees me slumped against the chalkboard like a deflated balloon, her grin turns Cheshire. “So,” she says, stretching the vowel so long I wonder if it’ll snap, “Ian Hot has gotten even hotter with age.”
I blink, fighting for dignity. “Oh, please. I barely noticed he was even here.”
Eloise laughs. Not just giggles, but full-on laughter that ricochets off the classroom walls. She leans in close, her eyebrow arched like she’s auditioning for a spy movie. “You’re a terrible liar, you know. I was standing right down the hall when you walked him out. I saw it all for myself. ”
“I am not lying!” I sputter, managing to find a shred of offense in her teasing.
She smirks. “Sage, you looked like you were about to melt into a puddle. I’m surprised you’re still standing.”
“Well, excuse me for getting a little flustered,” I huff, though it’s impossible to hide my own amusement.
“A little?” she chides. “Try a lot.” She sits on the edge of the desk in front of me, her own self-satisfaction spreading like wildfire.
I try to collect myself, pushing off from the chalkboard. “He was kinda hot.”
“Kinda?” Her eyes are wide with exaggeration. “Seriously, Sage. That man could make a nun question her vows.”
“I guess.” I shrug, hoping to pull off nonchalant.
“Oh my God!” she howls, throwing back her head. “You are ridiculous!”
“Fine!” I say, breaking into a laugh. “He’s... something, alright? I wanted to jump his bones. Is that better?”
Eloise rises and moves around the desk, a mischievous look crossing her face. "That's much better. I must admit, it was very rewarding to watch you stutter, blush, and struggle to recall your own name over a man. ”
I put on my best offended face, but it’s futile. “I’m glad I could entertain you,” I counter, trying to salvage the last shreds of my pride.
She sighs like a mother explaining the rules of the world to her child. “Plus, Mr. Hot appeared just as smitten with you.”
“I seriously doubt that,” I insist, knowing the hot fireman is way out of my league.
“Stop.” She flings her hands in the air. “You’re gorgeous and Ian Hot would be lucky to win your heart.”
“You’re totally biased.” I laugh. Eloise has been my best friend since I saved her from an aggressive monkey bar in second grade.
Her eyes sparkle with the challenge. “I love you, Sagey.”
“I love you, too, Weezy.” I roll my eyes at our silly nicknames for each other. At least my insistent bestie lets the subject of Ian Hot drop. For now.
She plops down next to me. “Now, it’s time for us to get home before Winnie takes out a hit on us for her late dinner.”
She’s not wrong. My spoiled rotten Chihuahua doesn’t wait for food .
As we walk out to her car, Eloise gets her second wind. “But seriously, Ian Hot is even hotter all grown up.”
“I didn’t realize you knew him before today.” I drop into the passenger seat while Eloise climbs in behind the wheel.
Eloise looks at me and mutters quietly, “I’ve had a secret crush on Atlas Hot, forever.”
“Atlas? Ian’s older brother? He’s got to be like forty.”
“Not forty.” She shakes her head furiously. “He’s only thirty-three. Ten years older isn’t bad.”
I roll my eyes. “I can’t believe you never told me about this crush.”
“What can I say? A girl’s got to have her secrets.”
The admission cracks me up. “Wow.”
She pulls out into the early rush hour traffic. “When my dad coached the high school football team, Atlas was the star quarterback, so I saw him all the time.”
“Oh. Right.” My voice trails off. “That makes sense.” I still can’t believe my friend managed to keep this secret from me for years.
We stopped at the grocery store on our way, and by the time we arrive home, Winnie is beyond pissed. Her delicate paws sprawl indignantly across my usual spot, and the look in her eyes, which consists of equal parts abandonment and scorn, tells me she’s far from pleased. I drop my bag with a resounding thud, silently praying for her forgiveness.
Instead, Winnie lifts her head with a huff, her enormous brown eyes narrowing in reproach, and lets out an exaggerated yawn as if she'd been waiting for an eternity rather than just a few extra minutes.
“Miss me, Winnie?” I venture, reaching down to scoop her up. She meets my touch with a graceful, albeit disgruntled, recoil. I smother her with a few tender kisses, but her response is a dramatic blend of a sigh and a dismissive twitch of her tail as she abandons my lap and settles at the far end of the couch. I roll my eyes at her dramatics.
The apartment feels cozily cluttered this evening. A soft kitchen lamp casts a gentle glow over a small dining table buried under a pile of grocery receipts and stray produce bags. It’s hardly the masterpiece of organization, but every offbeat corner is mine, including the enormous TV that dares me to escape into a world where mishaps resolve neatly into happy endings.
“I’ll get dinner ready,” I announce with a hint of apology tugging at my voice. Winnie’s eyes flick over to me, her expression questioning yet unmoved as she lets her ears droop in unimpressed silence.
I head into the kitchen, determined to make up for the evening's delay. First, I pour Winnie's dog food into her bowl, adding a few blueberries as a small apology for her late dinner. With that done, I quickly gather the ingredients for our human dinner. The clack of the knife is almost a metronome to my thoughts, which, despite the task at hand, drift to Ian. I’m not sure how it happened, but the hot fireman has wormed his way into my heart and mind.
Winnie eats slowly, a quiet protest in each measured bite to remind me that punctuality, even in small matters like her supper, matters. Meanwhile, I prepare a quick meal for Eloise and myself, hoping to do anything to occupy my mind.
After we clear the table and Eloise heads off to shower, I retreat to the study nook cluttered with papers and lesson plans. I settle into a chair and pick up my pen, ready to grade yet another stack of assignments.
But as I scribble corrections and comments, Ian’s image reasserts itself in my mind, persistent and unresolved. His smile, his unexpected charm, the way he somehow upends the ordinary, streams through my thoughts as palpably as the ticking of the clock that had earlier betrayed me .
A while later, Eloise calls from the living room, “You’ve done enough work for one day. Get in here so we can watch the show!” I wrestle a final red pen mark across the paper in front of me and look over. She's on the couch, a diva of questionable loyalty next to her, and popcorn dotting the floor like confetti. It’s like being haunted by twin ghosts of bad decisions.
“I’m coming!” I shout, throwing down the last set of papers. I knew my first year teaching would be rough, but third grade? These kids have more energy than Eloise after a six-pack of Red Bull. I’ve spent the entire evening correcting their spelling mistakes, trying to figure out what they actually mean by “cunt cach me,” and fighting to wipe Ian Hot from my mind.
My face still feels warm when I think about how Ian Hot’s smile made the fluorescent lights seem like soft candlelight.
We settle in, Winnie perched on Eloise’s lap, daring the world to disturb her kingdom of cushions. The show begins with drama, couples trying to decide if they're going to stay together or call it quits. Eloise is ruthless, predicting every break-up before the couples do. “He’s going to dump her,” she declares as a tearful confrontation unfolds. “Oh, and she’s totally trading up next episode.”
“She should. No woman should ever put up with that bullshit from a man,” I point out as Eloise pops another greasy kernel in her mouth. She’s more invested in these imaginary relationships than her own dating life, which she claims is on a permanent hiatus.
I focus on the screen, but Ian keeps sneaking into my mind. My daydreams turn cinematic, with Ian starring in my over-the-top steamy scenarios.
Winnie waddles over and interrupts my thoughts by pawing at my hand, insisting on more popcorn and affection. We get distracted debating which couples will last, and which ones are in for a season finale shocker.
The episode ends, leaving all the couples in emotional turmoil. I can relate. My heart and mind started battling over these crazy feelings the moment Ian Hot strolled into my classroom.
“Going to bed?” Eloise asks as I stand up. She switches to the next episode and nudges me with her foot. “Sure you don’t want to watch just one more? We can sleep in tomorrow.”
I roll my eyes but smile. “Nah, I’m pretty tired.” And I need time alone to figure out what’s going on with me.
“Goodnight,” she calls behind me as Winnie, the traitor, stays behind to hang out with her.
I head to my room, past the never-ending piles of papers to grade. As I brush my teeth and pull on my pajamas, persistent thoughts of Ian tease my mind .
I crawl into bed, pulling the soft, cool sheets over me and resting my head on the pillow, expecting to sink into the comforting embrace of sleep. Instead, my mind becomes a turbulent ocean of what-ifs, tossing me around. I replay every word I exchanged with him, dissecting each phrase and nuance in painstaking detail. The way his dark blue eyes held mine captive. A shiver runs through my body at just the thought of his warm touch. I’m in so freaking much trouble here.
Hours pass like this, until finally, exhaustion takes over, and I drift off. My dreams are vivid, filled with steamy encounters that leave me tossing and turning, rendering my rest fitful and unsatisfying.
When morning light seeps through the curtains, I wake up ensnared in a tangle of sheets, my skin flushed and a sheen of sweat clinging to me. I feel both worn out and inexplicably stirred, a mix of fatigue and lingering excitement coursing through me.
At least it's finally Saturday, which means I don't have to spend the entire day wrangling sugar-fueled eight-year-olds. The thought of a peaceful day was comforting, but unfortunately, Winnie has other plans. She decides today is the perfect time to put a significant dent in my savings by pretending to be sick, turning my anticipated day of relaxation into yet another unexpected challenge.