Chapter 20
20
His classroom is a cacophony of sound effects. Theo sits at his desk and watches Evelyn engage with his students, who are now on their best behavior after they’ve been “1985”-ed. Well. Most are. Milo flutters his eyelashes at Theo. So dramatic. Such a little shit. He shifts his eyes from his students to his monitor, where a new email is bold in his inbox. From… Caro?
Subject: Interested? FW: Curriculum Development Coordinator—Literacy—NYC DOE
Theo blinks.
His watch vibrates. A heart rate notification.
He opens the email.
Reads.
Hello Hello Mr. Cohen!
It’s been more than a minute… but I saw this listing and immediately thought of you. Is this not your DREAM job? I work in the legal department at the DOE currently, so if you’re interested I can totally put in a referral. Let me know! NY misses you.
x Caro
“Theodore?”
He minimizes the email, his eyes shifting to Evelyn standing over his desk.
Blinks. “Sorry. Hey.”
Short pieces of hair are falling out of the bun she secured with a pencil this morning. It’s giving teacher , she asserted, to which he responded, Please don’t say “it’s giving” in front of them . “These kids are terrifying.”
“I know.”
“I’m kind of obsessed with them?”
“I know.”
Concern wrinkles her brow and she opens her mouth to say something else, to probably ask him why he looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack, but then Annabelle calls out, “Ms. Evie!” and she’s pulled back toward his students. Theo reopens the email and clicks the link to the job listing. It’s an incredible opportunity. A coordinator role under the director of literacy for the New York City Department of Education? Theo can’t process this. The job. A random email from Caro. Not when he’s Mr. Cohen. So he stands and checks in with how the kids are doing with the assignment. Before it’s time for them to present, Evelyn plays the video of his Foley attempt.
“So it won’t take much to impress me!” she assures his giggling students.
During their performances, Evelyn’s nose crinkles a super specific way when a sound surprises her. It delights his students, who so obviously want to impress her. Theo spends the rest of the afternoon trying to imagine a world where he moves back to New York. If he’s okay with saying goodbye to his life exactly as it is. He’s unsure. But if he’s so content here, he shouldn’t care about the email in his inbox. Right?
Right.
Theo’s still ruminating on this after the students leave, as he’s wiping down their desks and tidying up for tomorrow.
“I’m exhausted.” Evelyn collapses into a clean desk. He feels her eyes on him. It’s only a matter of time before she can hear his thoughts and maybe he should just show her the email. Maybe he can work through these complicated feelings with the person who has always been the best at quieting his anxious brain. “You do this every day?”
“That was a good Tuesday.”
“Theodore, they shit-talk the way you uncap a water bottle.”
“They keep me humble.”
“You love it.”
“Being harassed daily?”
“Teaching.”
His response is immediate. “Yeah. I do.”
He does.
Theo loves teaching.
But.
His classroom now smelling like antiseptic lemons, he returns to his desk and sits. Gathers last night’s homework as Evelyn walks over and sits on his desk. His eyes flicker toward the door, nervous before he remembers the wedding band on his finger. That Foothill Elementary School is the one space where they’re still married. So.
“Annabelle says I’m too cool to be married to you.”
“She’s not wrong.”
Evelyn smirks. “I know. I hope the kids don’t take it too hard.”
“What?”
“The divorce,” she says.
His heart stutters at those words, her casual delivery. Then she kisses him and it’s a mindfuck. Is this casual? Theo isn’t sure he knows the definition anymore. He breaks the kiss after a moment because he’s at work and a two-hour-old email is eating him alive. “Ev, I—”
Her mouth is back on his before he can utter the sentence.
Ev, I… might have a job opportunity in New York.
Theo should tell her, but it’s easier to kiss her. Easier to process this on his own. Later that night, he googles “foley artist nyc” and learns to his delight and relief that there are opportunities in New York. At 2:00 a.m. he submits an application and forwards his résumé to Caro because he’ll regret it if he doesn’t even try. Continuing education is a highlighted benefit. Theo could go back to grad school. Evelyn could freelance in New York. It surprises him how much he wants it.
Them in New York.
Together.
In a not-at-all casual way.
But right now, Theo and Evelyn are good at casual. If Theo brings up moving to New York? Memories of their last serious New York conversation resurface, dissolving his desire to share this with her, because if he’s honest about the conditions required for him to make this move… she’ll freak out. Shit. He’s freaking out.
Besides, it’s such a long shot.
The job.
Theo can keep it to himself for now and continue to pretend this, them, his feelings are casual.
Until pretending becomes impossible.
All because of “1985.” A couple of weeks after he takes her to school with him, a package shows up at their apartment. It’s a Saturday afternoon and their only plans are not to put on real clothes today. Evelyn is crocheting on the couch, headphones covering her ears, when Theo tries to hand her the padded envelope.
She sits up, lowering her headphones. “It’s for you.”
It’s not a holiday. It’s not his birthday. “Why?”
“Just open it.”
He does.
It’s a custom chalkboard. ___ DAYS SINCE “1985” is painted across the top, and his entire body spasms, he’s laughing so hard. “ Ev . I repeat. Why?”
“Because! It’s my new favorite Theo Fact.”
He plants himself next to her on the couch. “Oh?”
Evelyn places her crochet project on the coffee table and wraps her arms around her legs. “Totally. It’s, like, I think I must know everything about you… and then out of nowhere you play a Bowling for Soup song to get your students to quiet down. Incredible. You are incredible and it’s just so cool to know you so well and still be surprised. You know?”
He stares at it.
This literal sign.
“I know.”
Her cheeks flush the way they always do whenever she slips up and says something earnest. “But also? For the reaction.” Evelyn drops her arms and shifts closer to him. Her nails left tiny crescent moons imprinted on her knees. “From the kids.”
His thumbs brush the crescent moons. “Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?” This is how it starts. Teasing. Nonchalant. Then someone will lean in. Usually Evelyn. Theo lets her make the first move because it’s sexy, because it’s safe, because then he’s not the one putting himself out there. But right now? He’s the one leaning in, so close her breath tickles. “For their reaction.”
She brushes the stubble along his jaw and doubles down. “Really.”
Kissing Evelyn so often evokes this hot, intense desperation, but this time when their lips touch it feels different. Soft. This isn’t a mistake. Gentle. This isn’t a mistake. Tender. This isn’t a mistake. Evelyn sits on his lap and pulls his T-shirt over his head. Drags her nails down his chest, then presses her mouth to his neck. His hands return to her legs. Start at those near-faded crescent moons before traveling up, up, up her thighs as hers travel down, down, down to the drawstring of his sweatpants. When he covers her hand with his, Evelyn whimpers—fucking whimpers —against his throat.
“Theo.”
“So impatient.”
“Should I stop?”
“No.” Theo kisses her perfect swollen lips, then pulls back so their foreheads touch. “Unless. Do you want to stop?”
Evelyn smirks. “I consent, Theodore. Just to be perfectly clear.”
“Cool.”
Cool?
She laughs against his lips. “Cool.”
It’s new to Theo. Kissing like they have all the time in the world. Maybe they do. Maybe this can be their life if they’re both brave enough to let it be. Because kissing her doesn’t feel casual. It feels like a medical emergency. Theo knows what it is to be tangled up in Evelyn Bloom, but never has he felt so out of control of his emotions. He carries her to his bedroom and removes the layers of clothes between them, removes every barrier between them until his heart thrashes against hers. Her lips are on his skin, and his hands cup her breasts, and every movement is slow. Intentional. He didn’t know it could be this good. He always knew it would be this good. Theo’s unsure how both things can be true. When Evelyn wraps her hand around his length he sighs into her mouth and wishes this could be enough. Theo wants nothing more than to still believe that this is casual, that he’s capable of casual with her—that he isn’t, hasn’t always been, so in love with Evelyn Bloom.