6th January

It's almost the end of our first Monday back at school. I've been teaching at Archwood High for two years and before that it was Rock Canyon. I can't decide which of the two I prefer. But the kids here are cool.

Teenagers are never going to be the easiest age group. Too many know it alls and smart mouths. Still, I spent a long time raising one so I have some experience with how to approach the more reluctant. Dallas for the most part was a good kid, she did a few things that wound me up but her overall behaviour was fine.

It was the back chat and battle of wits she got into with me. The girl never backed down and she had some strong fucking opinions. Whenever she handed me my ass, I waited until she walked off and then I smiled because I knew she'd never have a problem speaking up for herself.

The students are a little different. Sure, I can have a debate with them but I can't tell them to go fuck themselves if I'm losing.

It's the last period, we're in the gym having a game of dodge-ball because the snow is too thick to do anything outside. Leaning on the wall, I monitor my class flinging the red balls up and down the court. James, Georgia and Tom are the over achieving sort who are throwing the balls hard enough one would think they're being graded on it. They're not. I'm easing back into the semester.

A few of the girls got out straight away, on purpose. They think they're slick but I've seen this shit before. They go and sit down on the bench with their cellphones, the rest of the game is their free time. Whatever, it's not worth telling them to put more effort in. It's dodge-ball, I couldn't care less to be honest.

There's my favorite students, the ones that might not be athletically gifted but they make up for it by putting their all into the game. They have fun while they're at it too.

Sometime between Tom throwing the ball straight at Sterling and then Georgia almost breaking her best friends nose on the other side of the court, I notice that Mitch and Kiri are missing. And because I know far too much about these hormonal fucking morons, I immediately straighten off the wall and lap the outside of the court.

"Keep going," I shout over the squeak of sneakers on the floor, laughter, threats and the balls bouncing off the walls. "I'll be back in a minute."

Mitch, my main man, football prodigy, on to big things soon, if he can keep his shit together. He's going to get this girl fucking pregnant at this rate and I'm not going to let him flush his future like that. Or hers. She's a bright girl, fluent in like four languages, taking a world economic forum course at the college, a handful of excellence awards.

I've been peeling these two off each other since the start of senior year.

Going through the foyer, I pass the locker rooms and swing open the doors that lead into the hall of offices. We have three, one for me and one each for the other two health and fitness teachers and sports coaches.

As I pass each door, a gold name tag stuck to the wood, I peer inside. There's nothing but desks stacked with paper, humming computers and Samantha, the girls softball coach. Her eyes dart up when I walk past, sweeping the room. I don't bother explaining. If I bring other teachers into this shit I'll have to enforce disciplinary action and I'm not sure that's the route I want to go at the moment.

When I get to the end of the hall where we keep our stationary and class resources, I find Mitch pressing Kiri up against the shelving around the corner, his hand in the front of her pants.

"Out."

Both of them startle with a gasp and part, immediately fixing themselves, turning a rich red and Mitch wipes his hand on his shirt. I wish I didn't see that. Or any of this. I feel like a fucking creep walking in on such a private moment. Then again, they could've taken it somewhere more private. Like, home. Or a toilet stall.

Kiri darts straight past me, her head down and her auburn hair in a state. Before Mitch can do the same, I grab the collar of his maroon PE shirt and pull him to a stop.

"What the fuck are you doing, Mitch?"

He blows out a breath, palming his pale brown jaw, he has a hint of shadow, the peach fuzz a teenager gets before it grows in properly. "My bad, coach."

"That's not good enough," I say, finding it fucking hard to have these conversations with kids I like so much. It has to be done though, I have to be his coach first and his friend second. "You're gonna get that girl pregnant, Mitch. She's got scholarship offers coming out of her fucking ears. You wanna ruin that for her?"

He doesn't look at me. "We're careful."

"Every time?"

His head hangs low and he doesn't respond, folding his arms across his broad chest.

"I was a teenager once, Mitch. I know what heat of the moment does. I know what hopeful thinking is. Na, she won't get pregnant, that wouldn't happen to us. You love that girl?"

This time he does look at me, determination in his gold brown stare. "Yes."

"Then treat her like it. Fingering her in the fucking gym office?" I hiss and he puts his head in his hands. "Come on. She's better than that. I know it's all heat and passion at this age but do better. Be careful and for fucks sakes, don't you dare knock her up. You've got a full ride to college waiting. She does too. Don't screw it up."

He tips his head back and turns on his heel, going to leave. "You sound like my dad."

"Na, I'm cooler," I tease, nudging him as we walk down the hall. I hope no one is bleeding or unconscious when we get back to the gym.

"The part that pisses me off the most," I tell him. "You're in school. Imagine if it was someone else that found you? You're looking at detention, possible suspension. I'd have to fill out paper work and shit. Come on man."

Mitch lightly laughs and as we pass Samantha's office, I'm relieved to see she's gone. I don't want to explain why I'm escorting a student out of the office, following the disheveled girl who disappeared two minutes earlier.

Mitch asks, "You got a girl, coach?"

"No time for one when I'm constantly dealing with you horny little shits."

He laughs, holding the door open for both of us. Mitch is a good kid, he comes from a good home and he has a lot of respect for the people in his life. That doesn't mean he's immune to raging hormones. It's consuming and passionate and it makes even the most sensible people behave irrationally.

Because to them, their love feels like the strongest thing in the world, the most important part of themselves. There's no point telling them that they have their whole lives ahead, and likely a handful more epic loves to encounter.

                   Later that night, I sit at the breakfast bar, laptop open, beer open, fire going and no shirt on. I'm going through the curriculum for the next two weeks and writing up assignments as well as answering emails from staff and parents about their kids.

My daughter has permission to sit out of PE for two weeks as she has sustained a wrist injury. . .

My son lost his mouth guard how do we order a new one. . .

I'm withdrawing my son from the sexual education course this semester. . .

When do we enrol our kids for the next football season. . .

My son needs an English tutor or he can't be on the team next season. . .

For fucks sakes. These freshman know the drill when it comes to football. Grades need to be up, all the time. That rule goes above me because honestly, I've never understood that concept. Kids can't be good at everything. Let them excel at what they are good at and do their best at the other shit.

I palm my face, rubbing at the exhaustion and the sting the screen glare is giving me. Swigging back a mouthful of beer, I tap out a quick response about where to find tutors and let the parent know that as much as I want to help, it's their responsibility to get the grades up.

My phone blips beside me, vibrating on the clear coat bench top. It's a group chat from Dallas, a few people are in it. Me, Gabby, Drayton's mom and dad, his aunt too.

The text is a photo of Dallas holding up her hand, a fucking rock on that magic finger. Drayton stands behind her, his chin on her head, looking proud of himself, as he should. My sister has never looked happier.

Gabby L: omg no way!!!

Ellie L: Drayton, call me

Leroy L: your mother is pissed. Congratulations otherwise.

Ellie L: very happy for you but you can't tell me news like this over a text message.

Gabby L: this is so exciting I'm gonna cry.

Cass S: aww you beautiful couple. Congratulations from Lucy, Coen and me x

Ellie L: call me

Drayton L: im tryna get my dick wet. Engagement victory lap. Leave us alone.

Dallas B: the whole thing was filmed! We'll send it through once it's edited. Drayton did SO GOOD.

Drayton L: and I'm about to do better. Shutting off for the night. Don't bother us or I'll film the rest of this night and send that to you all as well.

Ellie L: what did I do to deserve this sort of son.

Nathan B: congrats guys.

I laugh, reading through the thread of messages. My attention lingers on Gabby's icon photo and I click to enlarge it. It's a selfie of her at the beach. I assume it's California. It looks like California. She has a bucket hat on her brown curls, her skin glistens and her smile is radiant.

Those lips, all I can think about when I look at that mouth is how it felt to sink my teeth into the soft flesh, to taste and feel her kiss. I spent days thinking about it after that night, secretly wanting a repeat but refusing to let her see the impact it made.

She's one hundred percent off fucking limits. Even if she weren't fresh out of a relationship, she has a daughter and I doubt I'm the kind of man she wants to mess around with. Not to mention, Dallas would kill me. I keep on forcing myself to see her as the girl who used to hang around here in high school. The teenager I tolerated.

But that visual disappeared the moment I saw her in the bar. All woman. Time and distance made a difference, more so than I would've expected. I can hardly believe she's the same girl, the same woman, I used to know. It's irrelevant though.

Yeah, I'm sexually attracted to her, I'd fuck her until she forgets her ex's name if I could. But she's dealing with enough shit and I'm not going to complicate anything for her. Especially not when all I'm good for is a solid fuck and nothing more.

Then again, perhaps that's all she wants.

I sigh and lean my elbows on the breakfast bar, fist in front of my mouth while I stare at the laptop screen and will those thoughts from me because I have work to do and my cock is probably sick of seeing my hand at this point.

                 After work on Wednesday afternoon, I head home to shower before I go over to Matt's place for dinner. I told his wife once that she makes the best fried rice I've ever had and now whenever she makes it, she invites me as well. Sort of sweet but fuck, I can't be bothered doing much else apart from getting into something comfortable and grading papers.

Fuck, that sounds depressing.

Hood up, fighting against the cold, I drive across town an hour later and stop at the grocery store to get something for desert. I hate showing up empty handed, even if I was told not to bring something.

Swinging the keys around my finger, I wander through the aisles, find an instant pudding and go through the self checkout. It's packed in here, everyone does their shopping in the evenings. Outside, I head to my car and stop in front of the hood when I see Gabby walking out of the drug store with a beanie on, the little Pom Pom bristling in the wind.

I'm about to mind my own business when I notice that she's crying and not only that, she's not going to a car, she's walking out of the lot, her arms wrapped around herself.

No, fuck no, I'm not going to ignore that.

Running across the lot, carefully so I don't slip on the slick concrete, I catch up to her and wince when she spins around with a fright.

"Hell," she breathes, relief in her face. Her nose is red and she sniffles. "What are you doing?"

"What's wrong?"

She looks at the ground and wipes her face. "Nothing."

"Where are you going?"

"Home," she snaps, meeting my eyes. Hers are red, glistening under the street lamps, streaks of mascara cascade down her supple cheeks. "More questions?"

"Why are you walking?"

"Of course you have more questions," she huffs with sarcasm and starts to leave. "Because I have legs."

Gripping her elbow, I force her to stop. "You're not serious? You fucking woman do my head in. You're not invincible."

"Oh I'm aware," she nods, her lip quivering. "Yeah I just don't have a choice because I got my fucking period and I needed tampons but momma wouldn't go and get them for me and when I told her I'd been smoking weed she slapped me and told me to walk. So, here I am, Nathan. Spare me the judgement."

I don't even know what to say. I'm not going to judge her for getting high. There are worse things she could be doing. Generally speaking, a little weed never hurt.

"Uber?" I ask.

"Not a dime to my name," she throws her arms wide and laughs like she can't believe this is her life. "I do have a job though. I'm cleaning. Today was my first day. It took me six hours and I'll only get paid for four because it shouldn't take longer than three. That's what Linn said."

"Linn Mi?"

Gabby looks at me and I'm not sure if her eyes are red from tears or from weed. "You know her?"

"She used to teach Korean at Rock Canyon. She left when she had her twins. She's a nice woman, she just has high standards."

Gabby takes a deep breath, white billows from her lips and carries on the breeze. "Yeah, I figured that out."

"Come on," I tug her elbow. "I'll give you a ride."

"I could actually use the walk," she presses her lips together, her cheeks wobbling as her voice becomes tight. "I just need to take my time getting home."

I fucking can't stand to see her cry.

"I'll walk with you then."

Her brow raises. "Why?"

"Because it's dark and you're stoned and I don't want to be the last person to see you alive. I'm not good with guilt."

She lightly laughs and scuffs her foot through a clump of snow on the footpath. "I'm not like a drug addict."

"I know."

She narrows her stare at me. "How do you know?"

"I just do."

She seems grateful to hear that, her long lashes kiss her face with each flutter and I want to trace her features with my mouth.

"It was just a long day and sometimes it helps me mellow out. I don't expose it to Lydia or smoke so much I'm a vegetable. It's—"

"Quit it," I tell her, cupping her nape and brushing her mouth with my thumb. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. I just wanna make sure you get home safe."

I let go, my thumb dragging across her bottom lip as I take my hand away and fuck, I'm sure her entire frame shudders. I'll pretend it was the cold. For both of our sakes. I won't acknowledge how much I want to slip my thumb in between those lips and watch her suck on it.

No. No. No. Not the time.

"You wanna come to dinner with me?" I ask. "I'm going to a friends house for fried rice. We can leave whenever you're ready. I'm tired so I don't want a late one."

"Oh," she  looks up and down the street, headlights passing, cars leaving the parking lot and teenagers lingering outside of the supermarket with cans of soda and bags of candy. "I think I'd rather do that than go home."

"Come on."

We walk back through the lot and get into my car. The windows are fogged so I turn the heater on and let the car idle for a few minutes while it heats up. Gabby stares out in front of her, dampness on her cheeks. It takes an effort not to wipe her tears.

"Things aren't good with Camilla then?"

Her barely there laugh is bitter. "It's never been this bad. She's always been firm in her rules but I had to fall in line as a teenager. I don't have to now and I think it pisses her off."

"She shouldn't be hitting you, not in front of your kid."

"Lydia wasn't in the room," she wipes a new tear off her cheek. "It's not the slap that's upsetting though. It's how I feel like I have no control. She tries to parent Lydia even if it goes against the rules I have in place. I'm just over it."

We pull out of the lot and drive down the road, I shift through the gears and do my best not to inhale too hard because all I can smell is that sweet aroma of honey and spice, like cinnamon.

Dallas' idea comes back to me, the one I'd profusely refused and still didn't feel that keen on. However, knowing Gabby was so miserable in her living situation, it felt too important not to help.

"Look," I say, taking a corner slow, shifting down to two and then back to three. "I have room at home. Dallas' bedroom is free and it wouldn't be an imposition to have you and Lydia for a while. Until you're back on your feet and can get your own place. I promise, I won't mind if you get stoned."

"Oh, Nath—"

"Just think about it," I tell her, pulling up to Matt and Holly's house. "The offer is there and I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it."

She goes quiet but when I look over, I'm graced with a soft, appreciative smile that makes my heart squeeze a little bit.

Fuck.