Page 42 of Textbook Romance

‘You strike a hard bargain… just not tonight. I’ve got to get these two to Cubs to tire them out. Bank that Maccy’s for another time.’ I flare my nostrils, unsure whether to just ask for the money. I stop at their family motor and wait for him to open the boot so I can deposit the kit. ‘Anyway, we need a catch up. Come over for lunch one Sunday. I want to hear more about how the new job is going. I always thought you’d be a decent teacher.’

‘You must have witnessed my fine command of the children tonight,’ I joke. ‘It’s all good. A little manic learning the ropes but I’m meeting some nice people.’

He nods in the way that Dom does. I gave four solid years to helping him out with his boys and there’s gratitude there, but I think he always hoped that once I moved out, I’d find my own path. He’s another who doesn’t quite understand why I’m still drifting and haven’t picked a vocation in life.

‘And do you think they might take you in? Train you up? I hear you can do that these days? Train on the job.’

‘Hold up there, sparky,’ I tell him. ‘We’ll see. I’m not sure teaching is for me.’

He rolls his eyes. ‘Jack-of-all-trades. Master of…’

‘All of them, you cheeky bastard!’ He smiles at me, knowing he’s legally not allowed to hate me. ‘By the way, I got the boys’ birthday party invite. I’m there. What do I bring?’

‘Yourself and a big fucking box of Lego. That Ninjago shit. Are you bringing a girlfriend?’

‘That would be a no. You still dating that school run mum?’

He flares his nostrils. ‘Kind of. This is why we also need a catch up. She’s into stuff.’

‘In bed?’

‘I need tips. I can’t search for it on the internet because I put in that child protection security software. If I look it up at work, I’ll get fired.’

‘Then I am intrigued,’ I say, laughing. Then I pull a face. ‘Is it to do with wee?’

Dom laughs loudly so his breath fogs the air. George runs up behind him, throwing his hands around his waist. ‘What are you talking about?’ he asks, his cheeks all rosy from the cold and the activity. ‘Do you need a wee, Uncle Jack?’

‘YES,’ I say, attempting to be convincing by jogging from foot to foot. ‘I was also discussing birthdays. Your dad said to buy you a puppy… what colour do you want?’

‘REALLY?’ Barney squeals.

Dom shakes his head at me. I hear the sound of male voices swearing behind us on another pitch and we instinctively cup our hands around the boys’ ears. The other joys of football that I had forgotten about. I look over at the pitch and the majority of them don’t look much older than eighteen. Some match is in full flow, the soundtrack provided by a row of spectator dads obviously knowing better than any referee. My attention is drawn to one of the boys at the back.

‘I know him. I teach him,’ I say, pointing him out to the twins. It’s Gabe from homework club. I watch him take on a lad and put in the most perfect tackle to dispossess him. ‘NICE, GABE!’ I don’t think he heard that, but Dom did, and he smiles.

‘I don’t think teaching is for me,’ he says, mimicking my voice. That’s not what I sound like at all. ‘You crack on and watch the football. I’ve got to run. What do we say, boys?’

They bundle themselves into my arms and I smile broadly to be a part of that uncle-twin sandwich. ‘Thank you, Uncle Jack. Love you.’

‘Love you, too, buds. Be good. Think about a name for that puppy.’

They laugh. My brother does not. He bundles them into the car, and I wave them off, not before my attention is taken again by the football happening on the pitch across the way. I gave up football way before that age, being more distracted by girls really, but it’s nice to see Gabe so invested in it and excelling in something he’s obviously good at. I go up to the railings where he’s playing, a final whistle blows, and it would seem his team are celebrating so I will take that as a win. I clap my hands and watch as Gabe heads over to the side of the pitch to talk to a parent, before catching my eye.

‘Mr Damon, what are you doing here? You watched my match?’ he says, a tad cautious.

‘I was coaching my nephews on the other pitch. Just caught the last few minutes. Class tackle, by the way. I knew you were giving Van Dijk energy…’

He cracks a laugh and then I think I get something, possibly approval. It’s the fact I’m in my adidas football boots that I wear once a fortnight for five-a-side, isn’t it? The tracksuit makes me look like I know what I’m doing. I’ll take that. I hope he tells people at school that I’m cool. I could do with the boost. Although Dom thinks differently, I’m still on the fence about teaching. Maybe it’s the culture of being a sub but a lot of the kids presume they can doss in my lessons. I peer into other lessons and kids are sitting there, taking notes and learning. In mine, I’m begging them to just write the date down and not climb out of the windows.

As I turn away from the pitch, I see a girl in a fluffy bomber coat run up to Gabe to share her excitement of the win with him and I smile. She takes a selfie of them as he hangs an arm off her. Oh, young love. Why does it involve so many selfies, though? But I know what it means to feel the excitement and butterflies of a new relationship and I suddenly think of Zoe. It’s been a very reserved week since our kiss. I went with Mia and Ed’s advice and I’m being a gentleman and respecting her space. So, we talk, we keep it PG, I don’t dip too much into innuendo. But that doesn’t mean I feel any differently, that the kiss we shared hasn’t opened some floodgate, that I don’t think about her constantly. I’ve not sure I’ve ever craved someone so much. The intrigue about what that kiss could mean haunts me and I’d be lying if it’s something that hasn’t come into my mind every night before I go to sleep and have a wank, as crass as that sounds. Needs must.

As I stand there, I contemplate my next moves. It’s Friday. God, I should be going out, right? I would if I wasn’t so tired and it’s too late to do the ring around and make plans. I should have just asked Dom for a tenner for that McDonald’s or invited myself around to theirs. Maybe Frank’s mum will have made us something to eat? I could wash my hair and start a show. Hold up there, Jack. That may almost be too exciting.

I look down at the last message I sent Zoe a few hours ago. Her kids were heading off with their dad this afternoon and I told her all would be fine and offered my services for a chat should she need it. She saw it but didn’t reply. Was that too forward? I didn’t want to suggest that with an empty house I could be someone who could fill that space. I hope she’s alright. She was worried about her kids going off with their dad and I could feel the stress radiating off her, and all I really wanted to do was offer her a hug. Could I just go round, hug her and then go? That wouldn’t be weird.

A message pops up on my screen.

Jack, you free tonight?

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