Page 26 of Teacher of the Year

I turn the lights off, leaving Illona illuminated only by the sparkly lights above. As I close her door, leaving it open a few inches, I contemplate what to do with myself for the next couple of hours. At least a modicum of snooping is expected. Jill directed me to investigate. Not wanting to be a total creeper, I’m going to look in rooms but refuse to open any drawers or medicine cabinets. That feels fair. Getting a vibe for the space works for me but looking at Olan’s personal items crosses a line.

There are many doors up here, but there’s one room I’m most curious about. I head down the hallway, and doors have been left open, making it easy to glance inside. The first door next to Illona’s bedroom appears to be an office. A large white desk wraps around the entire corner of the room, filled with computers, printers, and other technology I’m unable to identify but that appears as if it belongs in a home office.

At the end of the hallway, I poke my head into a room, and if I were a betting man, Olan’s bedroom lies in front of me. Why a single person needs or wants a king-sized bed is beyond me, but Olan’s bed, covered with a deep brown blanket with orange and red accents, invites me. I carefully sit on the edge of the bed and take it all in. A deep cedar dresser rests opposite the bed, with a large television on it. Photos of people I don’t know, but I’m assuming are friends and family, decorate his bedside tables. One looks like it might be his parents and brothers, based on the resemblance. The size of this house and high-end furnishings has piqued my curiosity. I need a distraction because my mind begins to wander off to a foolish place where I might belong in this bedroom.

I lounge on the bed, fish out my phone, and shoot Jill an SOS text.

Marvin: Guess where I am? Lying on Olan’s bed. Call me.

Chapter11

That should get her attention. I set my phone down and spread my arms out like I’m making a gay snow angel on Olan’s bed. The bathroom door lies across the room, and I can make out some of the details even with the light off. In addition to a shower large enough for at least two people, there’s a giant stand-alone soaking tub, waiting for someone to relax in it. I think of him taking a bath and snuggling under these covers and taking up the space I’m in, and blood rushes to my dick like a mighty wind.

My phone jolts me from my daydream with a buzz, and the picture of Jill’s face wearing cat ears and painted-on whiskers from last Halloween pops up on the lock screen. There’s not much you can count on in this world anymore, but the gay man’s female best friend responding to his bat signal is one of them.

“Hello?” I answer as if I don’t know the caller, mostly to tease her.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure he’s sleeping with the gorgeous nanny. I mean, why wouldn’t he be? He’s an insanely handsome man, and she’s, well, gorgeous. Why else would he need this enormous bed?” I slide my arm over the comforter. “Anyway, they went out together, hence why I’m here, and the house, Jill, it’s next level extravagant. I’m pretty certain you could fit four of my apartments downstairs alone, and there are three bathrooms that I’ve seen, but I’d bet there are more. Illona was sweet as I expected, and now it’s eight-thirty, and I have at least an hour and a half until they get back, and I don’t want to snoop, but well, I’m lying on his bed, but I’m not riffling through drawers, so don’t even ask.”

Thankfully Jill is used to my rapid-fire verbal onslaught. It takes an understanding friend to be patient with my ADHD.

“Marvin, first, breathe.”

I follow her orders and take audible breaths so she can hear.

“You know the bedside table drawer would offer some excellent evidence, but I respect your ethics.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, we know he’s an engineer who recently sold his business. I’m Googling him.”

This time, there’s no protesting from me. I attempt to relax while Jill works her private-detective magic. When she wants information, Jill has a way of scoping it out. Google may be her jumping-off point, but she careens down side streets and back alleys on the internet I never knew existed. This isn’t novel. Secretly stalking parents to find out more information is a hobby for Jill. She’s a pro. Jill could find out someone’s weight, eye color, favorite flavor of ice cream, and social security number.

Once, she discovered a mother of a student in her class was running a pyramid scheme, and she anonymously alerted the authorities. I know she’ll get the goods on Olan.

“Oh my god. Are you sitting down?”

“No.”

“Well, sit down.”

“I’m lying down. But I can sit up.” I smooth the pillow, imagining Olan’s face against the ridiculously high thread count.

“Okay, this is interesting.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Hmmm. This explains the money.” She sighs, and my hand travels through my hair in frustration.

“Jill, if you don’t tell me what you’re reading, I will reach into this phone and tickle you until you beg me to stop.”

“All right, chill. Listen to this. Olan Stone, thirty-three, began his company, Stone Aerospace, his senior year at Stanford.”

“Oh, he’s thirty-three. Damn, he has flawless skin.”

“Thirty-four. This is from last year. May I continue?” Another sigh. Clearly, I’m trying her patience.

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