10. Micah
MICAH
The stack of lab reports on my desk wasn't getting any smaller.
I sat back in my chair and rubbed my eyes before reaching for the next paper.
Outside my classroom windows, the late afternoon sun painted long shadows across the parking lot.
Most of the students were long gone by now, leaving the halls quiet, except for the occasional slam of a locker or distant shout from a coach trying to corral athletes.
Normally I liked this part of the day. The silence gave me room to think. Unfortunately, thinking had become a dangerous hobby lately.
I picked up another report and immediately regretted it.
"The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell because it powers the cell."
Technically correct, educationally weak. I scribbled a note in the margin and reached for my coffee.
My phone buzzed against the desk. I glanced down and smiled. Sadly, it wasn’t Robin.
Nate: axe throwing tonight?
Of course, he was already texting before I'd even finished work. Nate had the energy of a Labrador retriever who'd gained access to a credit card and an event calendar.
Micah: feels irresponsible to give me access to weapons
The response came straight away.
Nate: says the man dating a roller derby girl
I stared at the message. Dating was an interesting word choice.
My traitorous brain immediately supplied an image of Robin asleep on her couch, her head resting against my shoulder while Star Trek played unnoticed in the background.
Then it supplied the memory of waking up to her voice on the phone that morning.
Then it reminded me she was currently occupying approximately eighty percent of my thoughts… if not more.
Nate: come to axe throwing
Micah: what the hell… I’m in.
Nate: see you at 6
I slid the phone back onto my desk. The thought of taking Robin axe throwing did put a smile on my face. She would obliterate me without a doubt, but she would look so hot doing so.
A week ago, I would've spent a school night grading papers, playing guitar, and pretending I wasn't lonely. Now I found myself checking my phone throughout the day, smiling at texts, and planning dates to pumpkin patches like I was starring in a romance novel written specifically to embarrass me.
I picked up another lab report.
"Plants are green because God made them that way."
I stared at the page for a long moment. Then I sighed and reached for my red pen. At least some problems still had straightforward answers.
The new axe throwing bar was exactly the kind of business that could only exist because humanity collectively decided safety regulations were more of a suggestion than a requirement.
It was half a sports bar, half lumberjack fever dream.
The walls were covered in reclaimed wood and neon signs while country music mixed with classic rock playing through overhead speakers.
A row of throwing lanes stretched along the far side of the building where axes thunked into targets every few seconds, followed by either cheers or jeers at whoever missed.
It was kind of fun.
Nate and I had claimed a high-top table while we waited for our lane assignment. A pitcher of beer sat between us alongside a basket of loaded fries.
“Adult enrichment,” Nate declared while pulling a fry followed by a long string of cheese.
“Nothing says personal growth like recreational weapons.”
“I’m broadening my horizons.”
“You nearly stapled your thumb to a wall last week.”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
I laughed and reached for another fry.
The last few days had settled into a surprisingly comfortable rhythm. Teaching. Texting Robin. Thinking about Robin. Trying not to think about Robin. Failing immediately. The usual.
Unfortunately, Nate knew me entirely too well.
“You’re smiling again.”
I pointed a fry at him. “You need hobbies.”
“You are my hobby.”
“Disturbing.”
A server dropped off another basket of food just as our lane opened.
A few minutes later, we stood behind the throwing line while an employee explained safety rules that amounted to please don't kill anybody.
Nate picked up his first axe.
“You ready?”
“No.”
“Perfect.”
His first throw landed slightly off center.
I stared.
“Okay. What the hell?”
Nate grinned. Years of guitar apparently translated alarmingly well into weaponized lumberjack activities.
Meanwhile my first throw bounced off the target entirely. The axe hit the floor with a loud clatter. The employee winced. Nate laughed so hard he nearly dropped his second axe.
“That's embarrassing,” he said.
“I hate you.”
“You are supposed to make it stay in the bullseye.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
By the fourth round, Nate had developed an annoyingly impressive rhythm while I remained a threat primarily to nearby flooring.
“I feel like this activity is highlighting my weaknesses.”
“If your weakness is aim,” Nate mocked
“My weakness is I have assholes for friends."
“Also, true.”
We took a break after another round and wandered back toward the table for beer.
Nate leaned against the high-top and took a long drink.
Then he smirked.
“What?”
“How's hot nun?”
I tried and failed to suppress the smile that appeared. Damn it.
“What are you talking about?”
Nate pointed aggressively.
“That.”
“What?”
He gave me the look that said don't be weird.
“What?” I asked again.
A grin spread across his face as he pointed again toward the entrance.
I turned, and promptly forgot how to breathe.
Robin stood just inside the doorway surrounded by Grimm Reapers. Mel walked beside her. Belle was already pointing excitedly at something near the bar. Ariel bounced slightly while talking to Zella.
But my eyes found Robin, like they always did. Dark curls framed her face. She wore cut off shorts with fishnets, combat boots and a confident smile. She was the kind of woman who could walk into any room and somehow become the center of gravity without even trying.
Heat rushed straight into my face.
“Oh no,” Nate said beside me.
“What?”
“You got worse.”
I tore my eyes away from Robin.
“Shut up.”
“Micah.”
“What?”
“You looked at her like she descended from heaven.”
I grabbed my beer. Nate laughed into his drink.
Across the room, Robin looked up and spotted me.
The grin she'd been giving one of her teammates softened around the edges before widening slightly when our eyes met.
It wasn't possessive or performative. It simply looked like she was genuinely happy to see me.
The realization settled warmly somewhere beneath my ribs.
"Go," Nate said, nudging my shoulder.
I glanced at him.
"Before you start staring at her like a Victorian man seeing an ankle."
"And I’m the weird one."
I headed toward the bar.
The bartender greeted me with a nod when I ordered two beers. By the time I turned back toward the group, Robin had already claimed a cluster of high-top tables with her teammates.
The women were impossible to miss. Loud laughter rolled across the room while several conversations happened simultaneously.
Belle appeared to be in the middle of telling a story that involved wild hand gestures and at least three people talking over her.
Zella was laughing so hard she nearly spilled her drink.
Ariel sat perched on the edge of her chair looking delighted to be included.
The whole group radiated a chaotic energy that should have felt overwhelming. Instead, it felt welcoming.
Robin spotted me approaching and smiled. “What are you doing here?"
“Throwing axes with Nate,” I said as I gestured to him with a nod before handing her a beer.
"You survived the axes?"
"Barely. Nate appears to have secret lumberjack ancestry."
Robin laughed. Then she started introducing me around the table. I recognized some of them already from Trixie's and derby bouts.
"Micah, you know Belle."
Belle immediately pointed at me.
"I know you, hot priest."
I nearly choked on my beer.
Robin shot her a murderous glance. "This is why I don't tell them things."
"That ship has sailed," Belle informed her.
“I’m Belle, it’s nice to meet you.”
She extended her hand and I took it. “Micah, I know you though. I’ve been to a couple bouts, it’s good to have you back. How’s the injury?”
“Good, healed up and ready to torment.”
“Mel, It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too,” I said, shaking her hand.
The introductions continued.
Sonia greeted me warmly before turning around and asking what my intentions were toward Robin. Zella seemed amused by the entire situation. Ariel looked fascinated in the way younger siblings always looked when witnessing relationship drama.
"Okay. He seems normal," Mel said after an evaluating gaze.
Robin snorted. "Let's not get carried away."
The teasing continued for several minutes, but none of it felt mean spirited.
There was no hierarchy here. These women laughed loudly, swore freely.
They argued and interrupted each other constantly, refusing to let anyone take themselves too seriously.
But beneath all of it was something softer, acceptance.
It was the kind that wasn't conditional.
It didn't require you to fit into a specific mold before you earned your place.
Watching them interact reminded me of something I'd spent years searching for without fully realizing it.
Where I'd grown up, acceptance always came with expectations attached.
People belonged as long as they believed the right things or acted the right way or presented the right image.
The community I grew up in talked endlessly about love while quietly keeping score. This felt different.
Ariel was halfway through a story about falling during free skate when Belle jumped in to reassure her that everyone ate concrete eventually.
Zella shared fries without asking. Robin leaned over to quietly explain an inside joke so I wouldn't feel left out.
Nobody seemed concerned with appearances.
Nobody seemed worried about being impressive. They were simply themselves.