Page 24 of Past Tents

“Yeah, the animal thing threw me a little bit, but he admitted he was bitten by a sheep as a kid and is scared of anything wearing a fur coat.”

A kind, boring architect who was a little bit weird. I could work with that.

“Sounds like a dream, Lu. Set me up.”

CHAPTER

EIGHT

CLAY

“Hey, feels like you’ve been avoiding me.” Ally bumped me with her hip in the teachers’ lounge on Friday morning while I was toasting a bagel. I’d arrived at school at seven to grade papers because sometimes the harsh fluorescent lighting in the classroom made it easier to focus.

It was not because I was hoping to avoid bumping into any of the faculty members who taught sunrise classes and would reliably arrive at seven thirty. And it wasn’t because anything had changed in my casual friendship with Ally. But a man could only take so much, and after spending more time in the same room with her than I had in a decade, I needed some space.

Feeling the softness of her skin and the warmth of her body when I carried her against my chest had thrown me for a loop. I liked it all just a bit too much. So my overeager libido needed an Ally break. I needed to show it who was boss.

“Me? No, of course not.” I continued watching my bagel brown in the toaster oven like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“And observe, the leopard bagel basking in the morning sun, blissfully unaware of predators waiting nearby with cream cheese...,”Ally intoned in a deep announcer’s voice.

Grudgingly letting out a chuckle, I turned to face her. “Sorry. Zoned out there.”

“Need some good heart-accelerating coffee.” She held up a large, full tumbler with steam wafting from the top.

“Mmm, yeah. I didn’t sleep too well, and I stumbled in here without making a pot. I’m so tired that even the high school swill smells good,” I teased.

Reaching for a cup on the shelf, she corrected me. “It’s not the school swill. You made me see the error of my ways, and I dug out my French press and made coffee myself.” Turning the cup in her hand, she read, “‘I’m just here for the coffee.’ Sounds about right.” She tipped the tumbler, poured half the coffee into the empty cup, and handed it to me.

“I don’t want to take your coffee.”

“Please. I emptied the whole French press into this thing. It’s more than any one person should be drinking, greyhound.”

“What?”

Her cheeks bloomed pink and I couldn’t help but stare.

“Whatwhat?”

“Greyhound? What’s that?”

She looked away and waved a hand dismissively. “Sorry. I sort of call you that in my head because you’re always running around.” She met my eyes apologetically and I knew if I made a big dealabout it, she’d get more uncomfortable. But I kind of loved that she had a nickname for me.

“Fitting, I suppose.” I reached for the cup and smelled the aroma before taking a sip. “Vanilla latte?”

She shrugged. “You got me kinda hooked. I used vanilla-flavored soy milk, so it was kind of a cheat. Anyhow, are we still on for tomorrow? I stocked up on bear spray.” She made a gesture of spraying perfume into the air and walking through it.

“Hang on. What kind of bear spray?”

She shrugged. “Whatever they had at the bait and tackle place.”

Guiding her to the empty plank table in the middle of the room, I pulled out a chair and faced it toward me, motioning for her to take a seat. Once she sat, I tried to explain the error of her ways. “The bait and tackle place,” I confirmed.

She tilted her head as though it was obvious why a person would buy bear spray at a fishing supply store.

“If you don’t see any bears, can you use it to catch fish?” I asked.

Tilting the chair back, she scoffed, “Maybe. Would that be so bad? Are you a bear spray elitistanda coffee elitist?”

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