Archive of Our Own

“Don’t worry, Charlie! I know someone,” Darcy says in a way that is not at all making me not worry.

“You know someone, Darcy? This isn’t the kind of thing you can bring in anyone off the street. They’ll need a background check, and—”

They cut off my anxious rambling. “He’s a teacher at Truham Elementary. He’s spotless, my favorite Chardchilada. His dad is Quebecois, so he speaks perfect French. He’s my girlfriend’s bestie.”

I blink. “So, Tara approves of him?” I ask. Tara is trustworthy. She teaches preschoolers how to dance and can get Darcy to go to work on time.

“Yup!” they declare, popping the ‘p’ dramatically.

“Okay….” I gulp. I was really worried that the annual world language field trip to Montreal would have to be canceled this year when Madame Heaney took her parental leave. Somehow, Ancient Greek and Latin aren’t helpful on these field trips, and it’s imperative we have someone who actually speaks French chaperoning. I let out a slow breath as my brain processes the news.

“I’ll talk to him tonight!” Darcy announces before winking at me in a way that I know means trouble, but I’m not sure how.

Several weeks later

“Oh my God, Mr. Nelson is here! He’s so hot! Why is he wasted on third graders???”

“I wonder why he’s here?”

“OMG! Do you think he and Señore Olsson are dating?”

“Uh, Señore Olsson is a total non-binary lesbian! Like they’d waste their time on gross boys!”

“Oh, Mr. Nelson is all man.”

I’m a bit concerned about how thirsty all the students are being. Until I see him, and I’m instantly parched. My hand reaches for my water bottle automatically.

Darcy winks at me again and they know. THEY KNOW. They know they’ve just delivered the hottest man on earth to my… classroom. FUCK. Work. I’m at work. I shake my horny brain away and get ready to lead the trip meeting.

“Hey everyone!” I begin, but none of the students stop chatting. I look at Darcy and they shrug.

“If you can hear me, clap once!” comes a deep voice. Mr. Nelson.

A few students clap.

“If you can hear me, clap twice!” Mr. Nelson says again.

Most of the students clap, except for Eleanor and Ramona in the corner who are totally flirting with each other. Oh, and of course, Harry Jr., who is pontificating about his imaginary sex life to no one in particular.

“If you can hear me, clap three times!” Mr. Nelson says, smiling towards me like a proud golden retriever when it’s clear the entire classroom is focused on the front of the room.

My knees briefly give out at that look. Jesus. “Thank you, Mr. Nelson!”

He fucking beams at me. I want to pat him on the head and then give him head.

“Good afternoon, juniors and seniors of Rochester High! We have a lot to cover this afternoon. My name’s Mr. Spring, and I teach Latin and Ancient Greek here.” The three students in my AP Latin class give me a round of dorky waves.

“And I’m Señore Olsson, your favorite chaotic Spanish teacher!” Students whoop for them.

“And I’m Mr. Nelson. I teach third grade at Truham Elementary, and I see a few familiar faces from when I first started teaching.” Mr. Nelson swivels his head back to me.

Right. I’m in charge. Of the field trip. Not Mr. Nelson.

“The three of us will be supervising the trip to Montreal this year.” I drone on about deposits, permission slips, passports, and regulations. Darcy walks them through the itinerary, and Mr. Nelson just stands smiling prettily. So pretty.

When we finally get through all of the details, it’s time for the kids to choose rooms. “Lastly, rooms will be shared in groups of four.” I stop suddenly as I look at the next directive on the district-provided rules and sigh in resignation. I take a deep breath as I see several of my enby students from the QSA looking at me. I show Darcy, and they roll their eyes.

“Okay,” they begin. “The Rochester school committee has made it clear that rooms are to be single-gender. So, girls room with girls, boys room with boys, and theys room with theys.” Darcy laughs bleakly.

I snicker.

“Oh dear, oh no…,” I hear from Ramona in the back, and I try to bite back a smile.

Mr. Nelson tilts towards me with wide eyes.

“It’s not appropriate for couples to be sharing rooms,” I say with a meaningful look at Darcy. “So, please decide on your groups and send a representative to write down your names on the chart Mr. Nelson is holding.”

After the whirlwind of students signing up, a few tears, and us pretending we don’t know who the couples are, I lean in to whisper at Mr. Nelson. “I guess you don’t have to deal with adolescent hormones in third grade, do you, Mr. Nelson?”

“The teens are less rabid than the third-grade moms, though,” he replies with a twinkle in his eye. “Also, please call me Nick.”

God, he must have every mom in town drooling over him.

Just what he needs, a thirty-three-year-old gay nerd joining them.

The Rochester High School parking lot, Trip Day 1

I arrive early the morning of the field trip, cold brew in hand. I load my weekend bag onto the bus and get all the paperwork and checklists together. Mr. Nelson Nick and I will be in charge of one of the buses, and Darcy and Tara will be in charge of the other. Just as the first few families start to arrive to drop their kids off, Darcy’s Mini Cooper appears and Darcy, Tara, and Nick all pile out. Nick is giggling and looks like sunshine personified. I steadfastly examine my checklist once again.

I’m just checking in Ramona and Eleanor, who are being uncharacteristically shy, when Nick appears beside me, with a container full of lemon blueberry streusel muffins.

“Muffin?” He holds out his offering with a timid smile. “They’re my mom’s secret recipe.”

I smile crookedly. “Maybe once we’re on the road?” I hedge. I’m a bit too nervous to eat right now.

His face falls a bit, but he puts the lid back on and smiles sweetly at me. Third grade teacher, speaks French, a mom who sends him away for a field trip with homemade muffins. If he were also into guys, I’d be in trouble. Hell, I’m in trouble anyway.

We get all the students on their assigned buses, and I stand at the front of Bus Deux and try to get the students’ attention. Once again, I fail.

“Alright stop!” Nick shouts.

The students all pause and exclaim in unison, “Collaborate and listen!”

I look bewildered, and Nick crosses his (deliciously muscular) arms and smiles at me triumphantly. Once they’re settled, I give some directions and the bus starts up.

Nick and I have the front seats, the students all fanned out in the back. I sit behind the driver with my backpack and paperwork, and Nick sits behind the stairs. After we merge onto I-93, he shyly holds his Tupperware again, and I smile while carefully picking out a muffin. I break off a piece and let out a slight moan at how good it is.

In embarrassment, I check to see if Nick heard that, and he’s staring at his knees with a blush on his face.

Interesting.

US/Canadian Border, several hours later

The bus comes to a stop, and we all get off for the inspection at the border crossing. My palms are sweaty as I gather all the information for customs. I remind students to have their passports ready, and I keep track of all of the notarized permission slips for Bus Deux. Nick walks over and pats my shoulder in reassurance, and I feel some of the tension leave my body. I smile at him and he nods.

“Mr. Nelson!” Ramona calls.

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly and walks towards her.

“Where is the border? Shouldn’t there be, like, a line or a string or a wall or something?”

I see Nick’s back stiffen as I stifle a smile. He turns slightly, and I swear I catch a glimpse of his calm third-grade-teacher face as he talks about the longest undefended border in the world. So patient and dorky! I turn back to the Canadian officer and help her go through our paperwork before she notices my heart eyes.

Canada allows us past their borders, and we all return to the bus for another hour of strikingly rural landscapes before the Island of Montreal appears before us. The kids all stand up and look out their windows excitedly, like they’ve never seen a city before. Nick turns and smiles serenely at me. I’ve been here a few times for this field trip, but if Nick’s dad is from Quebec, surely, he’s been here tons. And sick of it.

“Thanks for chaperoning with us,” I whisper to him across the aisle. “This probably isn’t all that special for you.”

He turns his head and looks at me full on, his head slightly tilted. “Oh, it’s very special!” He responds. “And I’m glad to help you out. I mean, you and Darcy.”

We both glance away from the intensity of that interaction, and the bus pulls into the parking lot of L’Hôtel Mignon. The students all start standing up and wriggling with the bored impatience reserved for teenagers. I stand up and block the aisle before anyone can think about escaping and tell them to get off the bus, get their luggage, and wait on the sidewalk before we go in. Luckily, it’s a warm sunny day, and I should be able to collect keys before unleashing them on the hotel. I check in with Nick, asking him to be last off before letting the driver open the door and dashing off to the front desk.

After collecting the keys from a very unimpressed hotel employee, I hand them out to the students from both buses and they all start fighting over the elevator while a few of the football boys takeoff up the stairs, Harry Jr. offering to come back for the luggage of the more popular girls.

I realize, fully, while handing Darcy their keys, that Nick and I are sharing a room. I gulp, and he’s suddenly standing next to me outside the hotel, and we’re all alone.

“These are ours!” I squeak out, my voice raising almost in a question at the end.

He blushes. “Oh right! Room 1410. Sounds good.”

I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder just as Nick appears to be reaching for it. By the time we enter the lobby, most of the students are gone, so we ride up with one of my AP students and her friend, who I think is a French student. They both make eyes at Nick, and I stand up straighter gayer, willing myself not to put my body in between them and Nick. What is wrong with me?

We all get off on the same floor, and Nick and I walk into our room. Two double beds, side by side. I start unpacking my stuff to put into drawers to feel a sense of order, and Nick does the same. We keep side-stepping each other and nearly walking into each other. I’m afraid I’m making him nervous somehow as he keeps looking forlornly at his shirts. He puts a bright blue hoodie into the closet as I line up three pairs of Converse All Stars below him. We knock into each other once more, and he clutches the back of his neck and stutters, backing out of the closet and nearly falling onto his bed.

That evening at a restaurant

We squeeze 50 students and four chaperones into a pre-reserved French-style Quebecois restaurant. The staff chose a shortened menu for us and our unruly gaggle of teens. They all basically check off an item on the menu, and then Nick talks to the kitchen staff. He volunteered for this and has memorized everyone’s dietary restrictions. I gaze at him as he advocates for one student’s gluten allergy before he gets a bit quieter and peeks at me. He turns slightly and I know he’s asking for my requests. I hate that I’m picky, even pickier when I’m anxious.

Nick finishes up and walks over to me, putting a hand on my forearm and saying everything’s all set. I smile shyly and he just grins at me. Our quiet moment passes when Darcy stands up and starts shouting to get the students’ attention; again, they heed them no attention. Nick makes some sort of hand gesture and they all stop talking. Darcy and I look at him in confusion and he shrugs and mutters, “It’s the quiet coyote.”

How does he get a bunch of 17 and 18 year olds to quiet down with tricks they learned in third grade, and why is it so hot that he does?

Darcy goes over the itinerary for tomorrow before the meals start coming out. Once everyone is settled, there’s some minor drama. One couple breaks up publicly, and astonishingly Harry Jr. sticks up for the girl against misogyny? And then Alfie and Matt go to comfort her in the rest room. Just a normal evening at Rochester High. Nick looks wide-eyed at all the drama unfolding.

I’m about to talk to him once everyone’s finally eating, but Darcy and Tara get his attention and they chat some. At least that lets me eat my food, instead of feeling like everyone’s watching me. Which was probably Darcy’s intention to begin with.

After dinner, we all walk back to the hotel, the students complaining about the “long walk.” All eight minutes of it.

That awkward silence returns when we get back into our room. Nick turns to look at me, and I look back. Neither of us says anything. It’s tortuous. Finally, I grab my night clothes and indicate that I’ll get changed.

“Go ahead,” Nick says, dipping his head down adorably.

When I come out of the bathroom, Nick’s bending over his set of drawers, his shirt off already and bum in the air. Fuck, he’s so hot. I can see the ropes of muscles along his back and his butt is just… well… perfect. I want to squeeze it; test it for firmness.

Instead, I twist around awkwardly trying to remember what I was doing. Finally, I put my dirty clothes into my laundry bags and go through my backpack for my book. I sit down on the bed as Nick turns around.

“My turn!” he trills. “Do you mind if I shower? Will that bother you?” He asks.

“Uhh.” My mind has stopped working. “No?” Why is that a question? I take a focusing breath. “Of course that’s fine. I was just going to relax with my book before sleeping. You won’t bother me at all.” Being naked and wet and just on the other side of the door.

“Thanks, Charlie!” He breezes into the bathroom with his toiletries and some clothes, and I release a long breath.

I will not get hard while he’s in there. I will not.

Instead, I pick up my phone that’s charging on my bedside table to text Elle.

Charlie: Code red

Elle: Having a hot roommate is not an emergency, Charles

Charlie: But he wasn’t wearing a shirt. And now he’s showering.
Charlie: THE CHEST HAIR, ELLE

Elle: That does sound hard 😈🍆

Charlie: Elllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Elle: I’m sorry you are going through this. Thoughts and prayers 🤲

Charlie: Thank you!
Charlie: This week is going to be so difficult

Elle: Talk to him? Either you realize he’s a jerk and *poof* crush is gone

Charlie: Or he’s perfect for me and I fall even further for him ☹️

Elle: Or you make a nice friend?

Charlie: I don’t need more friends

Elle: Ok, or maybe you get laid

Charlie: do you think that’s a possibility?

Elle: I don’t know. I haven’t met him

Charlie: FUCK
Charlie: Now that’s all I can think about
Charlie: And I texted you to not think about that

Elle: C’mon, we both know you text Tao when you want to forget about a boy

Charlie: Man 💪🫦

Elle: There you are

The sound of water shutting off startles me.

Charlie: Shit, his shower’s over. I better go read

Elle: Sure, because texting your friend would be weird

Charlie: I don’t even know anymore. Byyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye

Elle: Bye babe!
Elle: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do
Elle: 🍆🍆🍆

As I grab my book and sit back, Nick reenters the room. He’s wearing soft plaid pajama bottoms, no shirt, and his hair is damp, rivulets of water slowly meandering down his chest, between his pecs, and into that carpet of dark red hair on his chest. My book is now closed on my lap and I’ve lost my place.

“Hi!” I say in a high voice.

I watch as a pink flush starts at Nick’s cheeks and works its way down, down, down his chest ending at the waistband of his pajamas.

“Hi,” he replies. I think. I’m mesmerized by the gorgeous full body blush I just witnessed.

I bite my lip and pick up my book, leafing through to figure out where I was.

“Uh,” he cuts in. “The shower was good. Nice. It's a little short for me.” He huffs a bit at that. “Just, in case, you know. You were worried.”

I bite my lip some more. He is too cute. “Thank you,” I reply. I can feel that my eyes are full of menace energy, but that’s okay.

Nick rubs his hair some with a towel and then hangs it up on the back of the bathroom door before falling into his bed. Apparently, there won’t be a sleep shirt. Oh no.

Nick reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Oh, fuck. At this point, I’m just blatantly staring at him, book forgotten again, as he rummages around and gets himself comfortable.

He finally gets himself settled, e-reader in hand, and looks over at me. I hope I’m not actively drooling.

“What?” he asks self-consciously.

“Uh. I didn’t know you wear glasses,” I reply.

He ducks his head a bit. “So dorky, right? Ugh. Just for reading, though.”

“No! You look…they look great.” I may as well just strip naked and tell him to take me. Wait, can I do that? I should text Elle again….

He huffs again and looks at me shyly. He literally gives me cute aggression. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Nick.”

“Goodnight, Char,” he says so softly.

So
So
Soft.

Wait,

CHAR?!!!

Old Montreal, Trip Day 2

Nick’s agreed to tell the students what we’re up to today, mostly so Darcy or I don’t butcher the pronunciation of the French names.

“Okay, everyone! Welcome to Old Town Montreal, or Vieux-Montréal! Today you can walk around and check out the sights. You can see Notre-Dame Basilica, Old Port, or the Vonsecours Market. Just meet back here for the bus at four, okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Nelson,” all the girls reply. The boys snigger.

“Great! Have fun and be safe!” I enthuse as they all wander off. Half of them have already found a McDonald’s. I see Alfie and Matt and their friends heading toward Notre-Dame, though.

Darcy giggles and pulls Tara away immediately. “We saw something about a floating spa! Hasta luego, losers!” they shout as they run away.

Nick looks at me and shrugs. I forget he understands Darcy, too.

“I think I need a drink,” he mutters.

I grin. “We probably shouldn’t drink.”

“A croissant, then?” He asks hopefully.

I bump my shoulder into his and smile. “Let’s go.” I absolutely do not think about nibbling on the little croissant of love handles around his belly.

We find this fantastic pastry and coffee shop. Nick makes a flaky mess and gets powdered sugar on his full pink lips. I watch him while sipping my cold brew. As soon as he daintily tries to clean off his mouth with a quick dab of his napkin, I laugh at him and poke his lip.

“You got something there, Nick.”

The blush makes an appearance.

I feel like I have power.

“Oh?” he asks, eyes big, cheeks pink.

“Yeah, let me.” I swipe his lower lip with my thumb. “All better!”

Nick’s frozen and looks terrified, so I decide not to lick the sugar off my thumb. I feign a light laugh and wipe my hands with my napkin.

“Th… Thank you, Charlie.”

I smirk. “Nick, last night, did you call me Char?”

His eyes go wider. “Um, did I? Um, sorry? Uh! I didn’t mean to!” he stammers on.

“I didn’t say I minded,” I reply. “It’s cute.”

“Oh.” His face un-contorts from the panic mode it had entered. “Uh, well now I'm never calling you that again.” He smiles a sweet lop-sided smile at me.

“Aww, drats!” I reply, pouting lips for full effect.

He winks at me as he stands, our break over. “We should probably be available for emergencies out there.”

“Yeah, especially since Darcy and Tara will be floating in pools all day,” I grumble.

We wander back towards the Rue Saint-Paul, poking into different galleries and soaking in the European-like vibes of the city. As we walk, my hand keeps reaching towards Nick, like we’re together; I forget that we’re not. He’s easy to talk to, even if he’s incredibly shy. I’m not sure if he’s into me—or men at all— or just that bashful. I kick my foot a bit in frustration and a pebble skitters out from beneath my sneaker. I blush.

When I look up from the ground, Alfie and Matt are chatting with Nick while eating some of Montreal’s famous soft serve. Alfie is definitely doe-eyed and keeps almost touching Nick while Matt’s eyebrows are scrunched in annoyance. Finally, Matt puts his arm around Alfie and they walk away.

“I think Alfie’s got a crush on you!” I say.

Nick starts rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, that’s not as big an issue in third grade. They’re more likely to call me Uncle Nick or Dad or something.” Then Nick laughs awkwardly. “But I’ve seen the way all your AP kids look at you, so you must be used to it.”

I inhale sharply. It had not occurred to me that any of my students might have a crush on me. “Well, I don’t know about that,” I reply.

Nick shakes his head in amazement and pats me on the shoulder. “Then you’re oblivious, Charlie,” he whispers. He keeps walking and, after a few moments, I pick up my pace to catch up.

Later that night at the hotel

It’s finally finally lights out. I love the “stay in your room after 10:30” rule on these field trips. Nick’s in the shower, and I’m texting Isaac like a maniac. In our budget-conscious school system, Isaac is the school librarian at Nick’s elementary school twice a week, as well as the reference librarian at the high school.

Charlie: You could have warned me

Isaac: Good evening, Charles! So good to hear from my favorite friend. How are you doing?

Charlie: Fuck off, Isaac, this is serious

Isaac: 🙄🙄🙄 And what should I have warned you about, my love?

Charlie: NICK NELSON IS SO FUCKING HOT
Charlie: AND HE’S NAKED RIGHT NOW

Isaac: Shouldn’t you be attending to him in that case, and not texting moi?

Charlie: He’s in the shower!

Isaac: Aye, there’s the rub.

Charlie: THERE IS NO RUB

Isaac: TMI. Don’t need to know about your solo activities.

Charlie: Isaac. You are driving me UP THE WALL

Isaac: 😇😇 My work here is done!

Charlie: Nooooo! Don’t go! Play with me
Charlie: Or at least apologize for not warning me

Isaac: Fine, Charlie. I’m sorry that I, as a Certified Aromantic Asexual (™), did not warn you that my colleague, who you met several weeks ago, is hot.

Charlie: THANK YOU!

Isaac: 🙄
Isaac: Why don’t you burn off some of this…energy…and go for a walk. Get a drink at the vending machine?

Charlie: Yeah, okay, good idea. I’m crawling out of my skin. He’s also so so nice

Isaac: That I did know!

Charlie: 🤬🤬

Isaac: Goodnight, my love!

Charlie: Goodnight, Isaac. I love you too. BUT I AM GRUMBLING

Isaac: I know, Sweetie.

I put my phone down to charge, and I know I’m wearing my sleep shorts and a ratty T-shirt, but I’ll be fine in the hall. Nick enters the room before I roll off the bed, and he looks almost disappointed as I grab my room key and wallet.

“I was just going to get a drink at the vending machine,” I explain.

“Oh!” His brows furrow. “I could use some candy for tomorrow. Do you mind if I come with you?”

I smile at him. Dopily, I’m sure. “Not at all!”

He throws on a t-shirt and I internally pout, but we head out the door. He’s walking a bit in front of me, because I want to look at his ass in his pajamas, and he comes to an abrupt halt when he notices that there are two students in the alcove of the vending machines.

They look like they’re about to kiss when Nick says, “Hey! It’s too late to be out here!”

Alfie and Matt stumble out, blushing furiously, and run away.

Nick makes an “oopsie” face and turns to me, “Oh! I forget they’re not actually eight years old.”

I smile as I choose a Sprite from the machine. “Pretty sure I did the exact same thing at their age.” I lean against the vending machine and look up at Nick. “Sneaking around. With a boy.” I pause as I take a sip of my drink. “You never did anything like that?”

Nick’s staring at the candy vending machine like it’s deeply wronged him. He takes a breath. “Well,” he taps his card on the reader. “When you don’t figure out you’re bi until your late 20s, you tend to miss out on those beautiful queer teenage experiences.” His fingers are jamming into the key pad to make his selection.

I gasp audibly. He’s bisexual. I decide to be a little brave. “Don’t think there’s an age limit on those, honestly.” I look over at him and smirk.

He grasps his candy bar tightly and stares down at the floor. “You flirtin’ with me?” he asks.

The tips of his ears are bright red, and I decide to take mercy on him. I shrug to let him know that I was flirting, but that I won’t push it. “C’mon,” I say, tipping my head in the direction of our room.

We enter the room and get into our beds. The silence is a bit awkward but also charged. I shoot off a quick text before I start reading.

Charlie: OMG HE’S BI

Isaac: I know. He wears a pin on his lanyard at work.

Charlie: YOU DIDN’T TELL ME
Charlie: Traitor

I read for a bit before turning to my side to sleep. “Goodnight, Nick,” I whisper.

“Goodnight, Char,” he responds.

Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, Trip Day 2

“Oh, they’re going to be a handful today,” Nick murmurs, arms crossed, biceps bulging.

“Huh?” I ask, distracted.

He looks towards Darcy’s retreating form. “Darcy,” he replies.

“Oh, they’re always a handful!” I laugh.

Nick shakes his head. “Oh, I know.”

Darcy had stolen Nick away from me at breakfast and was all on their bullshit about something. Tara sat with me, though, and we had a lovely chat about music. Since I play the drums and she dances, we have a lot of enthusiasm on the subject. Tara did keep glancing over at Darcy and Nick and grimacing, though.

But now we’re at the museum, the students have dispersed, and Tara and Darcy have wandered off to look for naked women, according to Darcy.

Nick gestured in front of him to let me know to go first, and off we went to explore the museum. There’s a special exhibit of Roman statuary that I’m very excited about, so I lead Nick that way. Partway through I start laughing. “That is uncanny.”

Nick glances at me. “What?”

“That statue.” I point at it, waving like it’s obvious. Because it is.

“Mmm, not following.” Nick is an adorable bonehead.

“You look just like that statue.”

He gives me a serious side eye. “I don’t see it.”

I grab my phone and start maneuvering to the camera controls. “Stand in front of it, and I’ll show you. C’mon.”

Nick glares at me, arms folded (biceps biceping).

“And do the pose as well!” I’m enjoying this.

“I don’t do poses,” Nick gruffs as he gets into position. And starts practicing the pose.

“Yes, you do,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

Nick turns around and awkwardly moves his arms into the correct position. I snap photos like I’m a fashion photographer and giggle uncontrollably. Nick finally breaks and starts laughing, too.

“Lemme see,” he asks as he walks over.

I pull my arm away and he starts to reach for it when—

Matt and Ramona run in, yelling. Something about Alfie cutting his hand. I grab the first aid kit I have in my bag, and we make our way over to him. Once he’s patched up, Nick sits him down in the cafe and buys him a sandwich. He takes it thankfully as Matt circles nervously. Nick and I get up, and he gives them both fist bumps goodbye. I look back on our way out of the cafe and Matt is clutching onto Alfie, looking distraught. My heart aches for confused young love.

That night, back at the hotel

It’s Ramona’s birthday, and they are having a party to celebrate. I’m sure some of the older students have snuck in alcohol. It’s legal here at 18, and despite all of our warnings about no alcohol on the trip, I know there will be some.

So, I’m ignoring it.

Hopefully no one gets hurt.

Ramona has a good group of friends, so I’m not really worried. Just feeling cautious.

Nick snuck out to get us some beers for the room, and when he returns, he offers one to me like the good golden retriever he is. I take it and I’m just about to open it when—

There’s a loud knock on the door. Nick opens it, perplexed, as six teenagers practically fall into our room. “Ramona’s going to be sick!” someone shouts.

“Oh! Oh, sit down, Ramona.” Nick is playing a dangerous game. I’m wondering why she couldn’t just puke in her own damn room. As Nick is finding water for Ramona, I hear the telltale noise. And, my bed is ruined.

“Fuck,” Nick whispers, looking at me in alarm.

“Okay, everyone out except for Ramona and Eleanor!” I shout. Matt, Alfie, and two of their friends I don’t know well all skulk out of the room guiltily.

“Sorry, Mr. Spring,” Alfie mutters.

Once all the stragglers are gone, Nick brings Ramona into the bathroom and sits on the floor with her. Eleanor stands nervously behind them, running her fingers through Ramona’s hair. After about 20 minutes, he deems her safe to return to her room. He hands Eleanor a damp washcloth and gives them some privacy to clean her up.

“I do have lots of practice with this in third grade,” he whispers, a grimace on his face.

I smile at him. “Puke is universal, I guess.”

He shrugs, and then Ramona and Eleanor exit meekly, thanking us. The door closes behind them, and Nick hands me my still unopened beer. Our fingers brush at the exchange and I feel a jolt.

Shaking it off, I move to sit on my bed but stop. “I guess I should ask the front desk for new sheets.”

Nick grips his own beer tightly and takes a big gulp. “I mean…,” he starts. “You could just share my bed.” His cheeks immediately color, and he looks away.

But my eyes widen, and I turn to look at him. He looks back and stands up, obviously nervous. “No, I’m sorry. Stupid idea. I’ll go down and get the sheets.”

I can’t speak, so I reach for his wrist to stop him. I stand up, pulling him closer to me with the motion. “Nick,” I whisper.

He turns and looks at me again, fear crossing his expressive face. His eyes move up and lock on mine, and I can see him relax slightly.

“I don’t think it’s a stupid idea,” I say.

I watch the last vestiges of anxiety leave his frame. He huffs a nervous laugh, and I pull him in for a kiss. It’s gentle, but firm, just like him. I feel the kiss surging throughout my body, and he wraps one big hand around the back of my neck, fingers tugging tenderly on my curls. His other hand is on my waist and pulls me even closer to him as our kiss deepens.

Oh God.

It’s so good.

I feel like I'm on fire. Like sparkles are overtaking my vision, my limbs, my dick.

We step back, chests heaving, to take a breath.

“I am going to strip the bed, though,” I murmur, and he laughs.

“Yeah.” He pulls me tight once more, nuzzles my neck, and lets me clean up the bed while he closes the curtains to the room. When we’re done, he grabs my hand and draws me down onto the bed. The contact points of our bodies sparkle and fade.

The bus back to Rochester High School, the next day

I was afraid things would be awkward today, but they’re not. I think asking him to co-chaperone prom with me helped. Really, I just want to see that ass in a suit. Not that I didn’t see the whole thing last night. Nick peeks at me and blushes at my smirk.

Luckily none of the students have noticed that I’m wearing his bright blue hoodie today. When I put it on this morning, his eyes went all soft and he tilted his head.

I’m pretty sure Darcy clocked it immediately, and I’m positive neither of us will live this down.