Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Liza

I got my class rosters today, and there he was, in my second-period class—Eli Jones—his name staring at me like a glaring neon sign of temptation.

Of course he's in my class. I'm teaching Econ, and he's a senior. I hoped he'd have Government first semester to give me time to adjust, but no such luck.

Though I don't know Dalton's last name, I see I have a Dalton in the same class and can only assume he's the same guy with a name like that. Knowing he'll have such a close friend in the class somehow makes me even more nervous.

What if he's able to pick up on things that others might miss? Can I really have him sitting in my classroom every day and not completely lose my shit?

I remember a teacher from my credential program saying how teaching is really an acting job. You need to leave your problems at the door and be one hundred percent focused on the kids in front of you. I just never imagined the student in front of me would be the problem I'm having personally.

Even though I know I shouldn't, I text him.

Have you gotten your schedule yet?

He's quick to respond.

You mean, do I have Miss Hernandez for second period? Yep, sure the fuck do.

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath.

What are we going to do?

No clue.

Eli …

Liza …

I sit, staring at my phone, wanting him to fix this, to magically make it right somehow.

My parents aren't happy about it.

Instantly, I want to throw up. Knowing his parents are upset with me makes the entire situation worse.

They wanted to call the school.

Panic—absolute panic—hits me so hard that I start panting as I type.

THEY CAN'T!

My phone rings with him calling.

"Eli, they can't do that. I'll lose my job. They'll let me go right away. Then what? Will they tell the school district in Mason Creek? I'll never get a teaching job again. They'll never believe me that I didn't know you were in high school when I met you."

"Liza"—he breaks up my panic attack of words vomiting out of my mouth—"don't worry. I said the same thing. They don't know what to do. They're afraid if word gets out, it could ruin my chance of getting drafted."

"Drafted? In the military?"

He laughs, and him doing so calms me just that little bit. "No, for baseball. By the MLB."

My eyes open wide. "Seriously? Could that happen?"

He lets out a breath. "We don't know. It could. This year is just a waiting game to see what my future will be."

"Why didn't you ever tell me that? How come we never really spoke about baseball or football or any other sports you play or what your future will be?"

"My entire life has been sports. I didn't have a growth spurt when I was in high school, like most guys. I've always been bigger than the other kids. People have expected more from me my entire life because of my size. When I was ten, I had to play catcher because I was the only one who could make the throw to second base, though I didn't want to play that position. I've always had to be the center in basketball because I could jump the highest. Everyone has expected me to be the guy . You were the first person in my life who didn't have something to do with sports. I liked that."

I place my hand on my heart, loving that I could be that person for him. That escape he needed.

"I wasn't trying to keep anything from you," he adds.

I nod even though he can't see me. "I know. I can see why you didn't talk about it now."

He sighs into the phone. "I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"At least I'll get to see you every day." His voice rises, sounding a little more optimistic. "And it's only for one semester. Then, I'll switch to Government."

I should be happy at that thought, but all that comes to my mind is, Then, I won't get to see you every day.

I sag my shoulders in defeat. This is such a mess.