Orientation: The Benchmarks Series Read online

  I didn't need much. Just one look at Jory, one clear-eyed look. I had to see that green, checkered shirt and Superman hair. I needed to confirm he was all right, to see for myself that the worried gleam in his eyes and apprehensive twist of his lips was gone. I couldn't explain why my gut churned with an unbearable urge to guard and protect him from anything that might cause him distress.

  I couldn't explain it, but that was how I felt.

  And I had a million questions for Jory. Maybe more. I wanted to know what he ate for lunch and whether he had a favorite Premier League team. I wanted to know why he liked teaching middle school science and if he wanted to carpool. I wanted to know if he wore glasses because I'd noticed a faint tan line at his temples, and I needed to prepare myself for the gut-punch of sexy nerd glasses along with his impatient frowns, the flawless light olive skin, and all that gorgeous Superman hair. And more than anything else, I wanted to know whether someone held a claim on him. I needed to know what I was up against.

  I leaned back in my desk chair, bouncing my hands against the armrests as I watched the clock. That, plus some pointless pacing, was all I'd accomplished today. No ordering, no organizing, no sorting.

  I'd made a solid effort at paging through a phys ed supply catalog around noon, but one look at a kit of oversized bowling pins had me calling up an old-fashioned candlepin bowling alley and asking about their hours. Something told me Jory, with his weird crab tie, would like the vintage vibe.

  Jory and anyone else from the staff I could gather for bowling and beers, of course. Unless Jory wanted to keep it small. Just the two of us.

  "Oh my god, stop it," I said to myself. I rolled my chair away from the desk, braced my elbows on my thighs, and dropped my head into my hands. I had to stop. I couldn't keep fueling this fantasy fire. We'd talked for minutes. For all I knew, Jory was being polite and I was inventing all of this. I always did that. I invented things and jumped ten steps ahead and fell before there were feelings to fall into, and I stayed there like an overturned turtle long after realizing I'd fallen for all the wrong reasons. "Stop, stop, stop."

  A knock sounded behind me, and then, "Is this a bad time?"

  Oh my god. I dropped my hands and jerked out of my chair with a force that sent it crashing into a tower of stacked soccer nets. They skittered to the side, knocking over a pillar of orange safety cones and a bag of softballs, sending both straight for Jory's head.

  "What is wrong with me?" I panted, diving in front of him to snatch the bag and steady the cones before they flattened him on the floor. I gained control of the equipment before it could do any damage, but I'd also shaved a few years off my life.

  "Sorry. Didn't mean to sneak up on you like that." Jory folded his lips together and blinked away from me. "Thanks for intervening, though. You've got some reflexes."

  I settled my hands on my waist and blew out a ragged breath. Jory was here in my office, wearing adorable dark-rimmed glasses and just being perfect while my hot mess of athletic equipment almost welcomed him with a concussion. "I didn't hear anything you just said because I'm still reliving the moment when a sack of softballs went flying toward your head."

  "You did warn me about phys ed teachers and all their balls." Jory ducked his head, laughing. "How about that tour?"

  * * *

  At the head of the hallway, I spread my hands out in front of me. "Welcome to the land of short people, also known as the elementary floor." I motioned to the doors closest to us. "This end is early elementary. That's Zucconi's room. She's kindergarten." I pulled open the door, glanced inside. "I'm surprised Shay isn't here today. She's usually the first one in the building when we get the all-clear to start classroom setup."

  "Is that common?" Jory asked. "Do teachers spend a lot of time on preparation?"

  Crossing the hall, I shrugged. "It varies. Some like to spend a lot of time in their rooms. Others take work home. The language arts and history teachers spend every Sunday together, working on plans and coordinating curriculum. They hate each other, Clark and Noa, but they do it because they want everything aligned."

  "I think I met Noa when I visited for my interview last spring," Jory said, tipping his head to the side as he considered this. Why did he have to be so smart and wonderful? It hurt to stand here and not rub my thumb over his brow just to feel his thoughts. "Yeah. She's a little shorter than me, black hair, beautiful golden skin?"

  I opened the next door. "That's Noa Elbaz for you. We'll swing by her room and Clark Kerrin's too, but I doubt they're here. They always work on lesson plans at her place." I gestured to the pristine classroom. "This is Jaime Rouselle's classroom. She's first grade and the first one here in the morning, but she doesn't hang around in the afternoons. Jaime and Shay are best friends. Most of the time, their classes are working together on projects and have all kinds of flexible groups and it's a whole big thing. They're the nicest, happiest, most energetic people in the world."

  Jory circled a cluster of desks. He was slim, several inches shorter than me, and a goddamn snack. Seriously, I'd never wanted to feel a man cozied up in my lap as badly as I wanted Jory. "Everything is so small."

  I chuckled. "Don't let that fool you." When we returned to the hall, I pointed at two more doors. "Second and third grade are over here. Emme Ahlborg and Grace Kilmeade. Here's what you need to know about them: they're the exact opposites of Jaime and Shay."

  He peered into Kilmeade's room, nodding solemnly. He did that a lot, the solemn nodding. He was a solemn guy, a serious guy. I was the polar opposite—as my ball jokes proved—but that wasn't going to be an issue for us. I'd had my share of good-time guys and the good times never lasted terribly long. Maybe it was time to get serious.

  "Does that mean they're rude, disgruntled, and sedentary?"

  "That's a good one, Hayzer." I rubbed the back of my neck. "No, they're wicked awesome teachers. The kids love them like crazy. But if Shay and Jaime are a piña colada, Emme and Grace are a Dark 'n' Stormy. You'll see what I mean when you meet them. They're all close friends and rock-star teachers, but they're also very different." I rubbed my neck again. Everything felt so damn tight. "If you're up for it, I could round up some people for a beer, maybe some bowling. We do that a lot around here. Maybe tonight? Or tomorrow, if that works better."

  Jory bit his lower lip, glanced away. "I'll think about it. Okay? Today was—well, it was a lot. I'm trying to process everything, and I'm sure I have a ton of work to do setting up my room, and then there are a few more days of new teacher in-service before the rest of the staff returns and I'm just—"

  "Hey." I rested my palm between his shoulder blades. Under that shirt, he was all tension. "Hey, hey. It's all good. There's plenty of time to meet everyone. We've got all year. Don't sweat it."

  He gave me an unconvincing nod and my stomach twisted. What was I thinking? He'd probably spent the day being hit over the head with policies and protocols. The last thing he needed was forced socialization with his new colleagues.

  "No, I'm sorry. You're being so helpful and I'm spinning out over nothing." He cut his hands through the air as if he was clearing away the things that troubled him. "I'd really dig a chance to meet everyone. I'm not great at bowling but—"

  "I can help you with that," I interrupted. "Phys ed teachers can't help with much, but bowling is our lane."

  Jory stared at me, his lips pursed as he fought back a smile. I wanted to kiss him more than anything. More than anything at all. I settled for keeping my hand on his back.

  "Gym puns, huh?" he asked. I nodded, matching his grin. "Thank you for doing this. These little details really help me feel like I know what's going on here."

  "You're welcome," I replied. We smiled at each other for so long, the motion sensitive lights above us turned off.

  He glanced at the last two doors. "I guess we should keep moving."

  I dropped my hand from his back. "Fourth and fifth grade. Audrey Saunders started out in fourth when she came here but moved up to f
ifth with her class a few years ago. Everyone loves Audrey because she's the sweetest lady ever and also because she brings in homemade cookies and cakes almost every week."

  Jory patted his flat belly. "Audrey and I are going to be best friends."

  "We have a new person in fourth grade. Elton or Eldon, I can't remember which one is correct."

  His eyes brightened as he shifted to face me. "Tall, slender, Black guy? Yeah. I'm not sure if it's Eldon or Elton either but I met him today. He's a kickass teacher. Makes me want to go back to fourth grade."

  "Can I ask you something?"

  Jory nodded, stepped closer. I had to fold my arms over my chest to keep from dragging him even closer and finally, finally feeling him against me. "Yeah," he replied, a half smile pulling at his lips. "Go for it."

  At some point during the day, he'd abandoned the tie and opened the buttons at his throat. I couldn't stop staring at the exposed skin there. Not a freckle in sight. I'd never cared about the absence of freckles before but now it seemed like an opportunity, a challenge to study every inch of his skin. "What was your weird interview question?"

  His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

  "Lauren asks everyone a weird question," I answered, referring to Lauren Halsted-Walsh, the school principal. "There's always one bizarre, left-field question." Thinking back several years to my interview, I laughed. "She asked me how I'd handle a one-on-one conversation with a kid about body odor."

  "Why would you have to handle a conversation like that?"

  “As I’ve mentioned, I teach phys ed and health. I'm the one who gets to talk to these kids about their changing bodies. Or, that was how it was explained to me by Lauren. Keep in mind, I was twenty-four at the time, fresh out of student teaching, and on my third or fourth real job interview ever. Because scooping waffle cones at the old creamery in Needham did not require an extensive hiring process, you know?"

  Jory snorted a laugh and my heart was pounding right out of my chest. "Okay, so how did you answer?"

  "Oh, I didn't just answer the question," I said. "We role-played the conversation. She played the part of the shy-but-oblivious kid who hadn't discovered deodorant, and I played the part of the supportive coach who wanted to chat about good hygiene practices as we grew up. She asked random questions just like a sixth grader would. It was tough, man. Really tough. The whole time, I was convinced I wasn't getting the job."

  "But, you did," he said.

  "I mean, I'm here. I did something right," I replied. "Everyone has a weird interview question story, so I know you have one. Out with it, Hayzer."

  He scratched his neck before answering. "She asked me what I'd do if I uncovered an underground slime ring. I wasn't completely clear what she was asking because the slime trade hasn't been an issue at any of my schools. I've dealt with water bottle flipping and Pokémon card hustlers, but not so much the slime. Once she painted the picture of a network of slime sellers all reporting to a slime kingpin, I understood."

  "Oh, that's a good one. Last year's fifth graders were all about slime. You'll get plenty of that with your sixth grade class." I gestured for him to continue. "What was your brilliant response? Don't try to tell me it wasn't brilliant. I can tell you're a smart one."

  Jory blushed. He actually blushed and I wanted to kiss every inch of that glow. Maybe it wasn't about the freckles or the glow but a runaway desire to kiss him, to explore him.

  Forget ten steps ahead. I was a hundred steps ahead. A thousand.

  "I proposed first identifying the key players and turning that information over to the administration," he said. "Then, conducting a lab experiment to explore the way bacteria living on slime multiplies when it exchanges hands with increasing frequency."

  "Capitalizing on the gross factor. I like it." I stepped toward the staircase because I was going to touch him if I didn't. "I bet you want to see the middle grade hallway."

  Jory followed me up the stairs. "You're right about that. I have a recurring nightmare about my classroom being a big pile of desks and chairs, a couple of beakers, and one uncalibrated scale. It's a recurring nightmare based in reality because I've inherited that situation a few times now."

  When we reached the landing, I said, "You have nothing to worry about."

  "I have everything to worry about," he murmured. "Always do."

  I didn't know how to answer that. I didn't think he wanted me to pull him into my arms and promise everything would be all right, that I'd make it all right. I didn't think he wanted me to swear I'd do everything in my power to protect him.

  "And this is the middle grade hall," I announced. "We try to keep the big kids contained, but the little ones come up here for art and music. Art is Linling Hsu and she's so freaking talented that it's scary. Music is Tiel Desai, also scary-talented. Like, seriously, she teaches third graders to play violin. How is that even real?"

  Jory shook his head. "I don't know, but I love it. I can't wait to see that."

  "The special needs folks have classrooms up here too. You probably met a few of them today since we're growing that team a lot this year." I motioned between a pair of doors across the hall from each other. "Noa Elbaz and Clark Kerrin are in here." Jory nodded, but I could tell he was trying to remember all the information I'd rattled off downstairs. "Language arts and history."

  "Oh, right," he said, touching his fingertips to his forehead. He glanced at the other pair of doors. "Is this math and science?

  "Yep. Juliana Avila is on the right. She's math. And this"—I pushed away from the wall and swung his door open—"is your new home."

  He stepped into his classroom with his hands fisted at his sides. He didn't say anything for whole minutes—minutes!—as he studied the lab tables, books, shelves of equipment. It was the longest silence of my life, but as I watched the worry leave him like air from a balloon, I didn't mind it. If it was possible, I enjoyed it.

  Perhaps I was exaggerating—getting ahead of myself again—but it seemed to me that Jory didn't make a habit of sharing things with others. I didn't know that for sure, though I'd noticed the way he'd pulled on a mask of complete calm when stepping into the library this morning. He'd shed the apprehension that had plagued him since the second I'd found him on the sidewalk, looking confused and miserable.

  The truth was he hadn't shed that apprehension, not at all. He'd hidden it under a layer of cool control, one that almost read as boredom. He didn't bother with those layers and masks when he was with me.

  Or, that was the story I wanted to believe. I wanted to jump ten steps ahead. I wanted to be the one who absorbed his worry and cushioned his overwhelm. I wanted that and I'd want it until he told me otherwise.

  "I'd put together a plan," he said, pacing in a small circle. "I had this plan written out with all the work I figured I'd need to do in order to be ready for the first day of school because I've always been stuck with the worst classrooms—if I even had a permanent classroom. I've always been the teacher bumped from one campus to another at the last damn minute and never had decent supplies." He waved at a glass cabinet filled with important-looking science-y things. "I don't know what to do if I don't need to spend the next week working on my plan. I'm good at preparing for the worst and getting through the worst, but I'm not good at adapting when the situation isn't that bad. I guess what I'm saying is, I don't know how to be relieved." He brought both hands to his temples. "I don't know why I'm dumping all of this on you, either. I'm sorry. I'm not one for talking about my emotions, but I can't seem to stop."

  "You don't have to stop." I shrugged. Stuck my hands in my pockets. Pulled them out. Clasped them in front of me and then shook them out because it felt weird. Shifted from foot to foot. Then, "Since you have some free time, you could go bowling. With me."

  Jory stopped pacing. "I'm not very good."

  "I'll help you with that," I said. "Not that it matters. Beer and bowling are supposed to be fun, nothing else."

  He moved toward me, stopping only when
our shoes touched. "I think I'd like that, Max."

  "I think I'd like…" My voice trailed off as I reached for him, my hand lingering a breath from his cheek until he granted me permission by tipping his head toward my touch. "I think I'd like to fall in love with you. If you'll let me."

  He pressed his lips to my wrist and my knees damn near buckled. "I think I'd like to let you."

  Part II

  Autumn

  3

  Jory

  A full month.

  That was how long it took me to take Max up on that date.

  His patience was adorable. He invented excuses for me like he was an old pro at dealing with someone else's anxiety. Sometimes I wondered if he was.

  Every time I sidestepped his offers and nearly burst into flames in the process, he made it all better with "No, you're right, you need time to unpack and settle into your apartment" and "Things are too hectic with the first weeks of school anyway" and "Forget I mentioned it. You need a minute to get into a groove. I'll be here whenever you're ready."

  Max's excuses weren't too far removed from reality. Things were hectic and I was still living out of boxes in my apartment—not to mention learning how to cope with a roommate whose control freak tendencies were not part of the rental agreement—and my groove had thus far escaped me in the classroom.

  But I didn't want him to go away. I didn't want him to stop asking me out.

  When I'd first started teaching, I'd believed the school year would go well if the first days and weeks went well—and this was generally true. Setting the tone and establishing expectations right off the bat was essential, even if that thought process was catnip for my perfectionism. It made all my rituals and checklists even more important and built up those initial classes to do-or-die levels.