23. Vincent

TWENTY-THREE

"Nolan, Norah, Noah, lovely morning." Kent waves to three blond children.

"Are they triplets?" I ask, the sun struggling to warm my naked head.

"Nope," Sheldon says, "not remotely related. Although they look and act like siblings. And like a good parent, I call them all by the wrong name at least seven times daily."

With its vast area, Lear's playground is a paradise for children, complete with slides, swings, climbing structures, and various outdoor activities. Woodchips carpet the ground under the equipment, and there are open grassy and paved areas for games. According to Kent, currently, only first grade is outside, but there seems to be an endless flow of children running, screaming, and creating complete chaos.

"How do you keep them all …" I begin.

"Safe? Clean? Fed? Quiet?" Sheldon tilts his head.

"Yeah," I say with a laugh.

"Mainly, with lots of routines and procedures." Without taking his eyes off me, Sheldon kicks a rogue ball back to a group of children playing in the grassy area. "You can't expect them to know how to do everything we need them to do at school. At least not the way I want them to. So I show them. And then have them practice. And then practice some more. Most really want to please their teacher, so I have that going for me."

"Makes sense." I shield my eyes from the sun.

"Vincent knows a thing or two about the value of routines," Kent says. Our eyes meet, and my stomach takes a tiny topple.

"Hey, I take comfort in familiarity."

"And kids do, too. Predictability is the key to everything in the classroom," Sheldon says, nodding his head toward the children. "Martha! I'm coming! Well, duty calls." Sheldon waves and jogs off toward a little girl who appears stuck at the top of a tall structure.

"He seems like a wonderful teacher."

"Oh, Sheldon is the cream of the crop." Kent's brow arches. "Having him transfer here was a blessing. I know his former principal hated losing him, but we're reaping the benefits."

"What he said about routines and procedures, I never thought about it that way."

"Oh yeah, it's key for running a smooth classroom. Kids like to know how and when to do things."

"Interesting." I rub my chin.

All of my rituals. The napkins. Wipes. Cleaning. Washing. Scrubbing. It provides safety. The work I do with Hopscotch, collecting requirements, inputting data, and running reports, there's a routine or procedure for almost everything I do. Maybe I don't find joy in it, but there's an assurance of security. Sure, unpredictable roadblocks can cause a hitch in the process. I suppose teaching is similar. Children are erratic creatures. And filthy.

"Mr. Lester!" a voice calls. Two boys march toward us. Brodie, the boy I had lunch with, has his arm snugly wrapped around a slightly taller blond boy with ivory skin.

"Brodie, what's up?" Kent's voice is calm and collected.

"Kaden fell playing wolf pack," Brodie says with his squeaky voice.

"Sit." Kent points toward one of the many benches that line the perimeter.

They do as he instructs, and Kent kneels.

"Can I look?" Kent asks.

The hurt boy nods his head. Tears sting his eyes, and he winces as Kent carefully rolls up the leg of his pants, exposing the damage. My head becomes light and woozy the moment the scrape, easily six inches long and a half inch wide, comes into view. There's blood, but also dirt. Mud. Grime. It's all mixed, creating an awful deep maroon swath on his leg.

"Just a scrape, Kaden. The nurse can get this cleaned up for you." Kent folds the boy's pants so they stay off the area.

"Brodie, can you take Kaden to Ms. Kelly's office?"

Brodie nods with wide eyes. His arm hasn't left Kaden's shoulder, offering unwavering support.

"Mr. Manda, would you mind taking the boys?" Kent's voice softens. "I'd rather them not walk alone."

"Oh, um, sure. Of course."

The boys stand and hobble toward me. Brodie extends his free hand. It's covered in dirt, wood chips, and something wet. Foul. He stares at me with pleading eyes. Waiting.

With a quick breath, I take his hand, and we walk to the office silently. Brodie squeezes my fingers. There's a squishing of fluids and dirt, but I don't let go. When I look down, his arm still around his hurt friend, he smiles at me. I remind myself I can scrub soon. Plus, Brodie loves LEGO. Returning his grin and grip, the three of us head to the nurse's office.

"You survived?" Kent's fingers fly across the keyboard on his laptop.

"I stayed while the nurse cleaned Kaden's wound, and then walked the boys back to class," I say. "My hands needed washing." I hold my clean hands up. "But, but, I'm fine."

"Of course you're fine. Why wouldn't you be?"

Kent stands and sticks his head out of the office. "Helen, Mr. Manda and I have some work to do. Buzz if you need me."

"No, you don't understand," I say, Kent shutting the door behind me. My heart races, and a massive grin erupts across my face. "There was dirt. Mud. Blood. Germs, so many germs. Like billions, I'm sure. And I took Brodie's hand. Held it." I put my hand out, staring at the previously soiled skin. "Stayed with them. Remained calm."

I grab Kent's shoulders, holding him in place.

"I was fine. How? How was I fine?"

Kent chuckles, and his entire torso shakes.

"Sometimes, when you need to step up, when someone needs you enough, your fears and anxieties fade into the background." With a smile stretching from ear to ear, I catch a subtle glimpse of the dimple tucked beneath his beard.

"They don't disappear completely, but they retreat. Long enough so you can handle the crisis. It's adrenaline."

"Adrenaline? Can I buy it somewhere?"

More laughter erupts from Kent's mouth, drawing my gaze, and without thinking, I pull him close and capture his lips. His breath blows into my mouth with each guffaw. Coffee. Sugar. Cream. I can taste it all. A sweeping sensation overtakes my chest, and sunbursts appear in the temporary darkness when I close my eyes and deepen the kiss.

Pulling back, Kent says, "Nobody's figured out how to bottle adrenaline yet. But it can reveal things to you. Like how capable and amazing you are."

Kent kisses me gently, gathers me in his arms, and squeezes me.

"Kent," I say into his ear.

"Yeah."

"The mood. It's right."

There's no hiding my hard, firm cock pressing against his thigh.

"Vincent, it's eleven o'clock. We're at school. In my office. We have work to do."

"I know, but I wanted you to know." I squeeze him close, grinding softly.

"How about tonight?" he asks. "I'll bring takeout."

I'm tempted to drag him by the collar to the supply closet for a quickie, but I know he's right. Even if my dick disagrees.

"Sounds like a plan."

"May I have chocolate milk?" Illona's tiny hand clasped in Marvin's triggers a vivid recollection of Brodie's hand in mine just a few hours ago.

The experience at school left me buzzing with energy, and I'm fired up to share.

"Of course. I might skip my espresso tonic and get one myself," he says.

"Adults don't drink chocolate milk," she protests.

"Miss Stone, haven't you realized yet? I am no typical adult."

"Very true." Illona nods and the two puffs on either side of her head shake.

Without being told, Illona sits, pulls out a tablet and headphones from her backpack, and plugs herself in. Do all children behave this way?

"How's the wedding planning?" I know the topic has overtaken Marvin's life.

"We've almost landed on a venue. The Ocean Inn. It's a little further out of town than we wanted, but we'll get a shuttle to bring people from the airport. And the thought of getting married on the beach, at a beautiful inn, where everyone can stay … perfection."

"Sounds ideal," I say, sipping my coffee. "What's the holdup?"

"We just have to coordinate with their availability. What works for us, that type of thing. And Olan's family. They're all flying in, and we need to make sure the dates work for them." Marvin rubs the back of his neck and takes a deep breath. "Then the real work starts. Menus. Seating. And my favorite, cake tasting!"

"Of course, you like that best," I say, knowing Marvin's fondness for sweets.

"I want a strawberry donut tower, but Olan says we really should have a cake. So, we might get both."

"You can never have too much dessert," I say.

"Exactly."

"Quit distracting me with wedding planning questions." He waves his hands, shooing the topic away. "What happened at school?" Marvin hands Illona her drink. Without taking her eyes off the screen, she opens the straw and milk and begins drinking.

"I was on the playground, and this boy got hurt."

Marvin's lips make an oval. "Is he okay?"

"Oh yeah, only a scrape. But there was blood. And dirt."

"Typical."

"And mud. And it was gross and germy, and I took this other boy's filthy hand and walked them to the nurse and stayed with them the entire time."

"How many napkins and wipes?"

"None!" My cheeks rise, and my face absorbs the sunlight, bright and warm.

Marvin's eyebrows shoot off like fireworks, retreating behind his curly mop.

"I know. Kent said it's adrenaline. But after, I was so …" I pause, glancing at Illona, pull my lips in, and shake my head.

"Use pig latin."

"Excuse me?"

"Pig latin. My mother always used it on the phone when she didn't want me to understand. Take the first sound off the word and add it to the end with an ‘ay' after. So I'm Arvin-May, and you're Incent-Vay."

"Marvin Block, from the first moment we met, you've confused me. You still do."

"Just try it …" he says. "The adrenaline. You were so …"

I look around, wondering if anyone at the nearby tables understands pig latin, and quietly, through clenched teeth, say, "Orny-Hay. For Ent-Kay."

Marvin nods, a smirk on his lips.

"You wanted his ock-cay, right?"

My ears burn, and warmth creeps over my head.

"Up-yay. In my … oat-thray."

Marvin's smile erupts into laughter, and I join him. Illona, sipping her milk, never breaks contact with her tablet. I've come so far in the last year since we've become friends. Talking. Sharing. Opening up. The smiles and laughter we share make my heart so damn happy.

"You like him. A lot. I can tell," Marvin says.

"How can you tell?"

"You have a look on your face." He nods slowly. "I can feel it in my bones. You're bashert."

"I do. I like him. A lot. That's what worries me."

"Stop worrying."

"Says the self-proclaimed King of Worrying."

"It's my crown." Marvin mimics placing a crown atop his curls. "You can't have it."

I smile at my ability to volley so playfully with Marvin. But how did Kent and I get to this place? "Sure, it started with …"

"His ock-cay in your outh-may." Marvin winks.

"Yes, but there's more. He's sweet. Patient. But also, clumsy. A mess. And kind. Sweet. And yes, hot. I thought we'd just be friends. Then the benefits kept showing up."

"Ah, the benefits. We love a tasty owjob-blay." Marvin looks off, surely reminiscing about his own escapades with Olan.

"Yeah, but then, these damn feelings snuck their way in."

"That's what love does to you. Allows you to see someone, even their flaws, and want them anyway."

"Me seeing him, wanting him. That's not what worries me."

"Vincent, stop that right now. Remember, we're owning our love lives. Taking action. As Mariah sings, ‘Make It Happen.'"

"But what if he realizes I'm …" The words get stuck in my throat, and my fingers fold the napkin's edge. Over. Fold. Over. Fold.

"Bald?"

"He knows I'm bald. I can't really hide that." I pull my beanie off, point to my head, and pop it back on. "No, my OCD."

"Vincent, he knows you have OCD. You can't hide that either. I knew after five minutes."

I purse my lips.

"But maybe when he sees how bad it can get …"

"You're catastrophizing. Stop. Take a breath. I'll take one with you."

He puts his hand out, and I take it. His fingers wrap around mine, and he nods. Together, we take a prolonged inhale. I wait for him, and slowly, we exhale together. Marvin lets go of my hand and smiles.

"There. Now, when will you see him next?" he asks. "I mean outside of school."

"Tonight. He's bringing Purple Giraffe over." I grab the small bottle of sanitizer from my bag and squirt a generous amount on my palm.

"But you're not hungry for Korean-Mexican fusion."

"Nope."

"You want that ick-day."

I nod and smile, and again, we burst into giggles. This time, our laughter is disruptive enough to draw Illona's attention. She rolls her eyes and says, "Grown-ups. Oy." I look at Marvin. He looks at me, and once again, we crack up.