Tallulah I sat my books down on a desk. My stomach was in knots. Nash had been... different. Not as much like the old Nash either. Just different. He’d seemed angry at me, but I had been trying to get him to stop before he got suspended. Haegan Baylor was not a good friend. I didn’t know him really, but Nash had changed quickly in the short time he’d been around Haegan. Or at least it looked like it from what I had witnessed just now. “Teenage boys have a lot of growing up to do. Don’t look so down. It’s typical. They’re hotheaded, selfish, and it’ll be years before they’re smart enough to listen to a woman.” Mr. Dace’s voice startled me. The room had been empty when I entered. Everyone was still out in the hallway talking about the fight, no doubt. I shrugged, not wanting to look at Mr. Dace. I was close to tears, and that seemed silly. I was embarrassed. “Tallulah, don’t let it upset you. He’ll regret it once he figures out he was an ass.” Had he been an ass? Or was I overreacting? I lifted my head and met Mr. Dace’s concerned gaze. “He’s a nice guy. He’s fun. He’s kind. He was kind to me when no one else was. It’s... this isn’t... it’s just not him. He isn’t like that.” Mr. Dace frowned and walked around his desk until he was standing only a few inches from me. “Are you sure? Do
you know him that well? Because every interaction I’ve had with him he’s been all those things. He’s young. Quick tempered. Immature.” He paused and glanced toward the door. We were still alone. “You aren’t. You’re more mature than any seventeen-year-old girl I’ve met and many twenty-something females I’ve known. You have your head on straight. You have a goal. You’re beautiful, smart, and the world is at your fingertips. Don’t waste it on a guy who doesn’t see all that.” The kindness and sincerity in his eyes k ept me from defending Nash some more. Instead I said something else. “You think I’m beautiful now. You didn’t see me before.” I was tired of my looks being pointed out. That shouldn’t be the way I was measured. “No, I didn’t. But I wasn’t talking about your outward beauty, although there is that. I was talking about what is inside.” Oh. Well... Oh. “Good fight, Coach D,” a voice said jokingly, and the moment was gone. Mr. Dace st epped back and turned his attention to the students now entering the room. “Fighting is never good,” he r eplied, taking his spot behind his desk. “Maybe not to you, but the rest of us were entertained,” another guy said as he dropped his books on his desk. “I thought Nash was going to go all bad-ass like the good ole Nash we all know and miss. I think he may be coming back to us.” That comment came from one of the guys on the football team, I think his name was Eric. I looked at him, but I felt the heat from Mr. Dace’s stare and shifted my gaze to
meet his. He didn’t have to say anything. I could see the “I told you so” in his eyes. Was he right? Did I not know Nash at all? Had what I’d seen today been the Nash he once was? I sat down in my chair and opened the notebook I’d need for class. I didn’t listen to any more of the conversation, nor did I look at Mr. Dace. He’d been trying to help me. I understood that. But I didn’t want to be warned against Nash. I knew a guy they didn’t. I refused to believe the guy I had seen over the years wasn’t what I thought he was. Mr. Dace saw me for who I was, past my clothing size. But he was an adult. It was different. He was mature enough to see past what my body looked like. Although I doubted I’d ever see him dating a fat girl. I should have pointed that out, but I didn’t. Class began, and I took notes. Mr. Dace’s eyes lingered on me too long at times, as if he was trying to get a message across to me. I stopped looking up at him. I wasn’t giving up on Nash. Not when I had loved him most of my life, and now I had a chance to be with him. That was if he wasn’t angry with me. He’d left upset with me. I worried about it all of class, and I would have texted him if Mr. Dace hadn’t been watching me so closely. The bell seemed to take forever, but when it did ring, I jumped up and hurried for the door. I was almost out of it when Mr. Dace called my name. I paused, wanting to ke ep going, but he was my teacher, and I knew I couldn’t ignore him.
I went back to his desk, and he watched the room until it cleared before looking at me. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just don’t want to see you hurt. You deserve better.” I could argue that Nash was special. That I was lucky to have his attention or interest or whatever it was I had. But I didn’t. I wasn’t sure I even had that anymore. “Okay,” I said instead. “If you ever need to talk,” he said, and held out a small piece of paper to me. I reached for it, unsure what it was until it was in my hand. It was a phone number. His phone number. Was that allowed? A teacher giving a student their number to talk? “Thanks,” I said nervously. “Call me. I’m always available for you.” Again that felt strange. Funny. Like it wasn’t exactly meant the way it should be. No, I was overthinking this. Mr. Dace was just being nice. He was concerned, and that was what a good teacher was. Besides, he was gorgeous and had an equally gorgeous girlfriend somewhere, I was sure. I was reading way too much into this. “Okay, I will,” I said, then headed for the door. I needed to find Nash. St epping into the crowded hallway, I searched for any sign of him, but he wasn’t out here. Neither was Haegan. If I walked to his next period, I’d be late for mine. I debated going to look for him but decided if he wasn’t at lunch, I’d go find him then. “Suspended. Both of them. Three days,” I heard someone say in the crowd. “Fuck,” Ryker Lee muttered, and shook his head.
I didn’t have to go ask who they meant. I knew. Mr. Dace had sent them to the office, and they had been suspended. He’d blame Mr. Dace, although I would argue he’d just been doing his job. I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted Nash on my way to class. By the time I reached the door, he still hadn’t responded. I felt sick. My eyes burned with unshed tears. Quietly I made my way to the back of the room and found a seat. Hopefully, I’d be left alone. Ignored. Like I used to be. I was too close to crying, and I needed to get this day over with. Maybe Nash would text me back soon. Maybe.