Page 3 of Absolutely Not in Love
I move into my apartment and drop onto the couch feeling out of sorts. It’s Friday, so I’m tired anyway. But now I’m tiredandgrouchy and wishing I could rewind the last five minutes of conversation and do them over again.
It’s not like I didn’t mean what I said. I have zero desire to have a relationship with a hockey player. But hockey is Felix’sprofession.I could have been nicer about it.
I groan and kick off my shoes, then curl up on my couch. I could honestly just go to sleep right here and not wake up until tomorrow morning.
In my dictionary, tired has two definitions. There’sregulartired. The kind of tired I feel after I go on a run or finish a really strenuous symphony rehearsal.
Then there’steachertired.
This tired doesn’t compare to anything else on the planet. Because it isn’t just my muscles or my mind that are worn out. It’s my muscles…and my brain and my emotions and my nerves. Not to mention my ego.
Middle schoolers are sweet most of the time, but when they aren’t? They are literal demon spawn.
Miss Mitchell, are you a size bigger than you were last year?
Miss Mitchell, why don’t you have a boyfriend?
Do you think you’ll EVER get married?
Did you forget to fix your hair this morning?
Have you been wearing that ALL DAY?
Most weekends—at least weekends that aren’t symphony weekends—all I want to do is crawl into my pajamas, order enough take-out to last me three days, watch mindless television, and forget I have to go back to work on Monday morning.
It’s fine.I’m fine.I love my job. Teaching orchestra at Harvest Hollow Middle was my actual dream job when I was in college. I won’t begrudge it now. But it does make me appreciate weekends and summers.
I pull a blanket off the back of the couch and spread it over me, debating how hungry I am. Popcorn and Coke Zero hungry? Or for real actual dinner hungry? I’m definitely not cooking, so if I’m eating real food, it’s gonna be something delivered to my doorstep.
My purse is on the floor beside the coffee table, so I stick out my foot, tugging it closer so I can grab my phone. These are the lengths I will go to tonotmove my body any more than absolutely necessary.
Phone in hand, I check my bank account balance, groaning when I see a number in the very low three digits. It’s not like I’m surprised. I’m a teacher with a side gig as a musician. No one does either job if they have expectations of wealth or grandeur. All of my bills are paid for the month, so I’m not truly at risk of running out of money before my paycheck hits next week. But I still can’t justify splurging for takeout.
I sigh and pull myself off my couch and head toward the freezer, suddenly wondering what Felix is doing for dinner.
Which is ridiculous. I’ve rarely given my neighbor more than a passing thought.
I’ve also never seen him in his underwear.
Butstill.Abdominal muscles notwithstanding, Felix is just as much of a hockey player now as he was yesterday, so there should benothoughts, passing or otherwise, dedicated to him.
I pull a pizza out of the freezer and preheat the oven, leaning against the counter while I wait. I missed a call from my brother while I was talking to Felix, so I call him back, knowing he’ll try at least ten more times tonight if I don’t.
“Gracie!” he says when he answers the phone. “How’s my favorite little sister?”
“She’s tired and grumpy and she’s also youronlylittle sister. How are you?”
“Fantastic. I just scored sweet seats for the Appies game next week. Just above the glass, so we’ll be close enough to feel the speed of the game, but high enough for Maddox to see everything. He’s gonna love it.”
I pull the pizza out of the cardboard box and peel off the plastic. “Sounds thrilling.”
“You’re still coming to his party, right?”
I shake my head at Josh’s enthusiasm. His son’s tenth birthday is still a month away, and he’s already asked me no less than five times if I’m going to make it to the party.
“Josh. It’s on my calendar. I’m not going to miss the party.”
“I know, I know. But he’s turningten,Gracie. Double digits! It’s a big deal.”
