• • •

Her alarm went off, and Laken hit 'snooze' immediately.

She didn't go back to sleep, but lay just for a few extra minutes preparing herself for the morning.

Wes' arm snaked around her waist, and she turned, melting into his chest, "I hate Mondays."

It'd been a week since they went out and the vibe had shifted back to normal.

"Me too." His voice was rough with sleep, "I'll call in if you do."

He said that every morning, but the offer was very tempting today as the warmth begged her to stay in bed with him.

Laken smiled against the fabric of his shirt, "I don't run a company. It's not the same."

"Come work for me, then."

"No." She pushed herself up on her elbows, "I would never fuck my boss."

His laughter filled the room as she rolled from bed, getting her morning started.

Laken stretched briefly, shaking off the last of her sleep before reaching for her phone. The screen lit up—notifications stacked, none urgent.

None that mattered.

Behind her, Wes sat up slower, still smiling to himself as he watched her move around the room, "Do you think you'll quit when we get married?"

Laken didn't turn around, "No."

"You don't have to work if you don't want to."

She kept moving, gathering the clothes she'd laid out last night, "I know."

"And it's still not a yes?"

To Laken, the option was a heavily veiled demand. All of Wes' married friends had wives who wouldn't let their shoes touch the floor of an establishment that didn't have wine at the front door.

This was what women wanted. They wanted a man to swoop in and keep them put up— top shelf.

Untouchable.

She'd seen that life. Her mother lived it. She didn't want it.

"It's not about what I have to do," she added, softer now. "I like working."

Wes watched her for a second, like he was trying to understand something that didn't quite make sense to him.

"You could still do stuff," he said. "Just... not like that."

"Like what?"

"Waking up early. Dealing with kids all day." He shrugged. "You don't have to do that."

Obviously.

Laken had an untouched trust fund. One that ensured she could quit today and be just fine. More than.

She didn't answer right away, but when she did, the smile was practiced, "I love my kids. If I had their childhood, I'd hope there'd be someone who cared about me."

"I know," he replied easily. "I'm just saying—you have options."

Her point was that her students didn't.

Wes stood then, moving toward the bathroom, already shifting into his own routine like the conversation had settled itself.

"I'll probably be late tonight."

"Hmm."

He reached for his toothbrush, "Only busy day. I'll be home early the rest of the week."

"Okay."

Laken checked the time, going to place a kiss on Wesley's shoulder, "I'll see you when you come home."

Laken lingered near the door just long enough for it to feel like she might say something else.

The morning moved forward like it always did.

• • •

This morning, though, she was especially irritated.

Brielle's comments were extra bothersome, even Ava couldn't put her in a good mood as she spent a few minutes telling her about a book she'd read.

Still, she taught, endured, kept her emotions to herself.

Regardless of the notification that never came.

It enraged her, that she sat thinking about him and he'd never taken the time to check in.

Fuck.

Laken's pen tapped against the desk as her class worked, unusually quiet and engaged.

Where was the snowball fight? The one time she craved a distraction from their bad asses, they couldn't deliver.

"I'm done." Brielle slid a paper under Laken's nose.

She scanned it quickly. It was right, all of it, "Great. Go sit down until everybody is finished."

Instead, Bri pulled a chair next to Laken's desk, "I never do my work. I did it today, though. You know why?"

"Because you can't get suspended again?"

Their voices were low, but Laken still gauged the room to see if anyone heard them.

"I want a pass to the library."

"No."

"Please?" Brielle's tone was different, "I swear I'll come back."

Laken paused her tapping pen, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Can I have a pass?"

Against her better judgement, she wrote it. Mainly because she knew Bri, and she'd never said please.

Laken slid the pass across the desk, her eyes lingering on Brielle a second longer than usual.

"Straight there," she said quietly. "And straight back."

Brielle nodded too fast, already halfway out of the chair. "Yes, ma'am."

Laken watched her leave, the door closing softer than it ever had behind her.

A boy in the second row held up his worksheet. "I don't get number four."

She stared at him for a second longer than necessary.

Then stood.

"Alright," she said, clapping her hands once, sharper than intended. "If you don't understand something, raise your hand. Don't just sit there."

Laken walked over to his desk, explaining it loud enough for the whole class to hear.

She wasn't nearly done with the rounds before Brielle slipped back in the room quietly, holding a stack of books in her arms.

Their eyes meeting was the only form of acknowledgment there was.

• • •

Noah's flight landed thirty minutes ago.

The off season allowed him to come and go as he pleased. Really only flying in for meetings before going back.

He was back, and the first person to enter his mind was the woman who never really left.

Noah sat in his car thinking before he decided to dial her number.

"Hello?"

"Why you whispering?"

Laken laughed, "I'm at work. What's up?"

"Where you teaching at?" Noah questioned her, adjusting the temperature of the heater as he drifted through lanes on the highway.

"Maxwell Middle."

A frown crossed his face as he remembered the area, "Why? They'll steal the drawls off ya' ass if you let 'em."

"Lower income neighborhoods are usually high crime areas." Laken confirmed, "But, if no one helps, the cycle continues."

Noah didn't comment further on her school of choice, knowing the quickest way to make her mad was to tell her that her resources would be better used elsewhere.

Growing up, he avoided that side of town. Someone was always getting killed, robbed, fighting— it seemed to be more trouble than it was worth.

Changing the subject, he glanced again at the clock, "What time do you go to lunch?"

"I'm not taking a lunch." Laken sighed, "The school is serving a pork patty or some shit like that."

"What that got to do with you?"

Laken snickered, papers rustling in the background, "The last time I brought my own lunch the kids made me feel bad about it, so now I eat what they eat."

"So dinner, then?"

The line went silent, "With who?"

"Me."

It was direct, not giving her a chance to hide behind anything, "That's cool?"

"Tonight?" Laken questioned.

"If you can."

It wouldn't be easy to swing a dinner with another man when she had one already. She'd have to lie, maybe. Put some shit together that made sense.

He wanted to see if she'd do it.

Noah could make out the sound of a door closing through his car speaker, "You haven't talked to me in a week." Laken answered, louder than before, "And now you want dinner?"

"I'll pick you up," he stated. "You tell me no when I get there."

"That's manipulative," she muttered.

A quiet laugh left him, low and easy. "Probably."

"I can drive myself. See you at six."

That caught him off guard and he quickly gathered himself, "Where you wanna go?"

"You know what I like, Noah. I'm sure you can figure it out."

A smile tugged at his lips, "Fasho."

There was a faint shuffle on her end—voices bleeding back into the background, a chair scraping, someone calling her name.

He leaned back in his seat, eyes on the road, "I'ma let you go. I'll send the location in a minute."

"Bye."

As the line went dead, he began running through a list of places they could go.

• • •

He decided on Italian.

The place wasn't flashy, so it didn't look like he was trying too hard, but not casual enough to be mistaken for a last minute decision.

"Is this new?" Laken questioned as she observed the interior.

"Nah— they said it's been here for like three years now."

"I've never seen it or even heard of it." Her gaze settled on him, "If it's nasty, you owe me another dinner."

Noah tilted his head, watching her as he had since she came in, "And if it's good? Then you owe me one."

"Either way you win, huh?"

"We both do."

Laken snorted, "Let's get some shit straight. I don't operate on your time. You don't get to ignore me then fucking pop up like nothing."

She sat straighter in her chair, "Either stay or go, but don't try to do both."

Noah held her eyes, seeing the anger there, letting her have it.

"Lake," he said finally, voice lower, "If dude went through your phone right now and saw me calling you, texting you, all that shit. It wouldn't cause no problems in your house?"

"He doesn't go through my phone for one." Her tone was even, "And for two, nothing we talk about is bad."

Noah let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "So I can text you every time I think about you. Call you if I wanna hear your voice. FaceTime you if I need to see your face."

His eyes lifted back to hers, "And that's cool?"

Laken didn't hesitate. "Yes."

For a second, neither of them spoke. The noise of the restaurant filled the space instead—low conversations, silverware against plates, a glass clinking somewhere behind her.

Normal.

Too normal.

The waiter chose that moment to step in, polite smile in place as she sat their waters on the table, "Do you guys need a few more minutes?"

Neither of them had even opened the menu, "Yes, please."

"Pick me something." Noah instructed, "You came in here cursing at me and shit."

Laken didn't look up from the menu. "You'll be alright. I had to regulate real quick."

He laughed at that, just as his phone rang against the table.

Laken saw the name flash across, "Who's Destiny?"

"A girl."

"That much is clear, but like who is she?"

For some reason, he wanted to lie. For another he wanted to tell the truth.

"We... fuck. On and off."

She smiled, "I would assume last week it was on, then."

That wasn't why he told the truth.

Laken was starting to piss him off.

"I already told you why I wasn't pressing you." Noah's tone stayed even, but there was something under it now. "If you need to tell yourself it's because of a girl I talk to sometimes, instead of the fact that you live with somebody you about to marry— go ahead."

Her expression didn't change, but her fingers gripped the menu tighter.

"Any girl I deal with already know I'm leaving them for you." Noah continued, "You not leaving that nigga for me. So, don't say no shit like that to me."

Laken's gaze dropped back to the menu.

"Are we ready to order?"

The waiter's voice slipped in like it didn't know it was interrupting something.

Laken relayed their order fluently, the waiter jotting it down quickly, and disappearing.

Silence settled back in.

She reached for her water, taking a slow sip, eyes fixed somewhere just past Noah's shoulder. Composed. Unbothered, at least on the surface.

"Is that what you want?" Laken questioned, "You want me to leave him for you?"

"No. I want whatever it is you want. I just don't think you know what that is yet."

Laken traced the condensation on her glass, "Why's that?"

"You're playing a game. That's cool— I am too."

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms against the table. "Only one person can win, so somebody gotta lose."

His hand came up then, slower, giving her a second to pull away if she wanted to.

He tipped her chin just enough to make her look at him.

"I hate losing."

She didn't pull away.

Instead, she leaned into his hand, her gaze holding his, unafraid of what he'd see.

"I remember your games," she murmured.

A pause.

"...You used to like when I let you win."

• • •