Page 93 of Catching Sparkles

“Thanks,” I said, and the call ended.

A LITTLE OVER an hour later, I was officially hired on as part of the faculty at Cherryvale High School, pending a background check and completing required safety certifications training on stuff like concussion protocols and CPR. Maybe I should have been embarrassed by it, because it wasn’t something most people would consider an impressive accomplishment, but I was feeling on top of the world. Principal Sanchez had nearly wept with gratitude when I’d accepted her offer, and I knew the teachers would be happy to have me around, if only because it’d fix a bunch of the scheduling issues.

I’d come so far, so removed from the pretentious cocktail parties and constant pressure to be more, to climb up some worthless nepo-littered corporate ladder where I didn’t truly matter to anyone and no one cared if I lived or died beyond my weekly sales stats. It was such a relief to wind up in something like this. I wouldn’t be rich, far from it, but I’d be happy. And Kendall had reminded me the night before that he was doing pretty well with his business, too. With our combined incomes, it was all too easy to imagine a pretty little life together.

On my way home, I got another call from Jay. I hit the speaker button and balanced my phone in the cup holder before I answered.

“Well, it’s done,” he told me, with all the satisfaction of a lawyer who’d just gotten his client a payout, and all the resignation of a lawyer whose client had agreed to a smaller sum for the sake of time. “He agreed to your paltry sum and sent over the NDA. I looked it over, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary on it. Just delete the video and don’t show it to anyone, ever. And obviously you can’t talk about what happened with Hailey to anyone anymore.”

“Yeah,” I agreed quickly. “That’s fine.”

I didn’t want to think about her anymore, let alone talk about her. It finally felt like I’d be getting a clean break from my shitty past and starting over where I should have been all along.

“I sent the stuff to your email, so just DocuSign and send it back.”

“I’m on my way back to my parents’, so I’ll take care of it there,” I said. The reality of what was happening was just barely starting to sink into my brain, generating an excited buzz through my veins. Had I seriously stumbled into a sum of money? Stuff like that didn’t happen to guys like me.

“Cool,” he said, then paused before going on. “Hey, this whole time sensitive thing isn’t because of some girl, is it?”

Because we were friends, and I knew he was mostly just teasing me, I considered my answer. It was kind of awkward, but… I wanted to be honest. And once I came out to him, then it was done. One person checked off the list. And doing it over the phone, where I wouldn’t have to see the potential judgment in his eyes was a safer place to start with it.

“Ah, no. A guy, actually.”

“Like, a guy or a guy?”

I cleared my throat, glad he couldn’t see my face. “Like, a guy. That I’m… seeing. Romantically.”

“You’re telling me you’ve crossed over to the other side?” He asked, sounding surprised but not exactly judgmental.

“It’s not really like that. I’m pretty sure I always liked both, I just tried to ignore it or not think about it.”

“Wait, even back in college?”

“Yeah,” I answered, somewhat hesitantly. We’d been in the same fraternity, and had gone to a lot of parties back then. We’d definitely ended up passing out drunk together quite a few times, sometimes sleeping next to each other. Would he be weirded out by those memories in retrospect, knowing what he knew about me now?

“So how come you never hit on me?” He demanded.

I blinked a few times, my eyebrows drawing together. “Uh… You’re not exactly my type, Jay.”

“Oh, I see. I’m not good looking enough for you.”

“Are you even into guys?”

“Well, no,” he admitted. “But it would be nice to be considered.”

I snorted, incredibly relieved by his reaction. “You’re good looking, okay? I’m just kind of… picky. I have a type.”

“So what? Is this guy a 6’6 bodybuilder or something?”

I ran my tongue across my teeth, ridiculously amused by the contrast of his assumption and the real life situation. Was this what coming out to straight guys would be like? Less repulsion and more ego-driven interrogation on why I’d never hit on them? That seemed a lot easier and more pleasant to handle.

“Not exactly. You’ll have to judge for yourself.”

“Yeah, I’ll make my way out there eventually,” he promised. “You’ll have time off in the summer, right?”

“Winter and spring breaks, too,” I said. “We’ll meet up.”

“Sounds good. Give me a heads up when you get those documents taken care of, and I’ll get them over to Sanders so he can start a wire transfer. It’s domestic, so it won’t take more than a day to have the money in your bank.”