Page 25 of Romance Languages

“Ignore the surroundings. They’re going to get around to finishing the basement in the future.” I opened the door to my bedroom. Julian stepped inside. We both avoided sitting on the bed.

“Did you really bring school stuff to go over?” I gestured at his bag.

“This? No.” He chuckled as he removed a bottle of tequila. “I brought drinks.”

“Sweet.”

He pulled out a Tupperware filled with pre-sliced limes. “Tequila shots!”

“Um, okay. Yeah, get this party started.” Never in a million years had I expected Julian to do tequila shots. But then again, this situation was one we’d never in a million years thought we’d be in.

“I figured a little liquid courage wouldn’t hurt.”

“Love it.” I needed some, too.

I had a row of shot glasses on the hutch above my computer desk. I grabbed two Cancun-branded ones, memories of a wild spring break flashing in my mind.

“We need salt,” he said.

I searched my desk drawers for salt packets. No way was I going back upstairs to retrieve a salt shaker and field questions from Greg and Ethan.

“Yes.” I unearthed a cache of packets from old takeout orders. I tossed them on the desk.

Julian immediately got to pouring us shots.

“Cheers!” I clinked my glass against his, some of the tequila sloshing onto my wrist. Down it went. It burned like a mother. When was the last time I did shots?

“Jules, I didn’t take you as a hard alcohol drinker.”

“I’m not. It usually doesn’t sit well with me. But isn’t this whole thing about first times?”

“Salud.” I wiped lime juice off my lips. My dick thickened in my pants, anticipating what was to come.

“I loved your latest video, by the way!” He poured another shot. His hand shook slightly. “Questions my students asked me this week.”

One of my students had asked if I knew Colin Farrell because of my Irish first name. Another wondered if I used a nose hair trimmer. I truly did not understand how teenage brains operated.

“Maybe one day you’ll be doing sponsored posts. Although I hate when influencers suddenly get serious in their videos when they hawk a product.”

“Oh, God. Does this mean I’m an influencer?”

“You’re on your way. You may get big enough to leave teaching behind.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I love teaching too much.” It was the saving grace in my shitstorm of a life. I was adrift in so many areas of my life, but I had found a professional calling to anchor myself to. Each year, I got more comfortable in front of the classroom and more confident in the material. My teaching skills would continue to improve until I became one of those all-timer teachers that they made inspirational movies about.

“What made you get into it?” Julian took another shot.

“Pace yourself, Jules.”

“I’m good.” He leaned against my desk and sucked on a lime. I plopped into my desk chair and swiveled back and forth.

“I wasn’t sure what to do after college. Greg switched from pre-law to education in college, which was a total surprise because his dad’s a judge and shit. But he inspired me to think about teaching. I had some rough times a few years back, and he and Ethan helped me through it. They’re letting me live here rent-free.”

I supposed I couldn’t give them a hard time about the whole dad/son stuff. They were looking out for me more than my actual parents, who firmly believed once you were eighteen, you were on your own.

“I know it’s corny, but I wanted to make a difference in kids’ lives,” I said.

“It’s not corny. That’s why we all do it. We have to deal with stuff like Cyllabus and parents, but every once in a while, we’re able to get through to a student. We’re leaving them better than when they entered our classroom.”

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