My brain was anxious and I fell into frenzies and there were tornadoes inside me, but more importantly than any of that, I was staying here. That knowledge washed over me like a kettle coming off the heat—it didn't stop whistling right away but the worst of it was over.
Staying meant not packing up my classroom in a few weeks, not driving around with my books and supplies in the trunk of my car all summer because I didn't have space in my apartment. It meant I could find a new apartment, one without a tyrannical roommate, and I could do that without simultaneously looking for a new job. Better yet, I could find a new apartment for me and Max. He could finally get out of his sister's basement and we could live together.
What would it be like to fall asleep together every night? To share a space all our own? Would we make traditions together, like movie night or meatless Monday? Would we host game nights and dinner parties like his friends and decorate for every little holiday just because we could? Like Pi Day and Star Wars Day and the arrival of the Perseid meteor shower?
Or would we get on each other's nerves? Would our styles and sensibilities clash? Probably not. And if they did, I'd compromise. I'd bend. I didn't care if we decorated our home like a sports bar, I really didn't. My opinions on home furnishings were not nearly as essential to my happiness as Max.
Oh, Max. That man was something special. I'd never known what it meant to have a partner until he rescued me from that sidewalk last summer. He supported me in the most essential ways, and I wanted to give him as much as he offered me. I needed to do that for him because he did everything for me. Now that I didn't have to pack up and start all over again next year, I could do this. We could do this.
"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Let's go."
8
Max
Jory: It went so well!
Max: I knew it! Great job, babe.
Jory: More good news to share. I'll tell you everything later.
Max: Can't wait. Have an awesome day, babe.
Jory: Love you.
Max: You too.
* * *
I was supposed to be coaching the track team.
For the most part, I was doing that. "Dale, McKee, Fortunato, Herzgood—this is not a tea party," I shouted while I jogged in place, waiting for the seventh grade stragglers to catch up on our three-mile loop of the streets surrounding the campus. "If you're chatting, you're not running hard enough. Let's go. Pick it up, men!"
But I was also watching the school's side parking lot, the narrow one reserved for visitors because I caught sight of Jory exiting the building over there. That was weird for a whole bunch of reasons. He was parked in the staff lot—I knew this because I'd followed him here from the juice bar this morning—and he seemed to be waiting for someone. I was far enough away to be wrong about that but there was something about the way he stood, his messenger bag hanging from his shoulder and his gaze tracking each car as it passed.
He didn't mention anything about a meeting after dismissal.
Not that we were planning to hang out this afternoon. I was coaching until five thirty, and Jory liked to maintain a routine of leaving the building no later than five each evening. He went swimming at the YMCA or visited the library to unwind from the day before heading home. His routines were important to him. He would've told me this morning if he was doing something different today.
I continued jogging to keep pace with the team, but I couldn't tear my gaze away from Jory. What was he doing? Why was he waiting there? What—or who—was he waiting for? And why didn't I know about it?
The thing about Jory—and I loved it just as much as I loved the rest of him—was he shared everything with me. He hadn't held back since that first night when I dragged him all over town while he grimace-grinned through his misery.
We spoke all the time. Yeah, a good portion of it was phone sex but it was more than that. I knew all the things bubbling up in his head. I knew where he was going and what he was doing because talking it out helped him mentally prepare. We did this almost every night, me in my pull-out bed and him in his apartment. I'd ask, What do you have going on tomorrow? and he'd fill me in on all the things cluttering his mind. That way, I could hold his worries and give him a break for the night.
But this was probably nothing. He was waiting for a parent or some other visitor. Maybe a delivery of science-y stuff like beakers and chemicals and creatures for dissection. And though visitors and deliveries always went through the main office without us waiting in the parking lot for them—
"What do we do when we're done, Coach?"
I turned my attention toward the sixth grade speed demon. "Back of the line, Santos. The prize for first place is an extra lap."
As I glanced back to Jory, I nearly stumbled over my own feet when I found him—Jesus Christ—walking into some dude's open arms.
What the literal fuck was that?
I gathered myself, righting my stride and finding my breath in time to watch him cross the parking lot with this guy and—holy shit—get inside a high-end electric car.
"What now, Coach?" Santos shouted.
"I don't fuckin' know," I muttered to myself.
* * *
"Okay. Let's unpack this," Mallori said as I paced the length of her kitchen. "Maybe he's planning a surprise for you. Yeah! Have you considered that? Maybe he didn't tell you because it's a surprise."
"And he was
