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I hesitated. This situation was surreal enough as it was. It felt like if I told another living person about it, the opportunity would vanish in a puff of smoke. I didn’t have a teaching credential. That might not matter to Harmony; some of my classmates from Younker had been able to get teaching positions at private schools without one. But the fact that my entire portfolio was light-years away from what parents wanted their kids to learn in art class would almost certainly matter to a school looking for someone to educate their students.
Sam, though, didn’t seem to pick up on my self-doubt.
“It’s a position at a private school up in Evanston,” I eventually said. “Teaching art at their high school.”
“That’s fantastic!” Sam’s smile grew. “You’re so talented, Cassie. And you’ve seemed to enjoy art nights with the library kids, right? That school would be lucky to have you.”
“You really think so?”
Sam walked over toManor Houseand paused, studying it. “I do,” he confirmed. “Of course, I know more about corporate mergers than I do about art. I admit I don’t know exactly what I’m looking at, but I can tell, just from looking at it, thatyouknow.” He smiled at me. “You are someone with vision, and who is passionate about that vision. Who better to teach young people about something than someone who cares passionately about what they do?”
His words surprised me. Sam had always been supportive of me and my goals, but in a vague,I-love-you-but-I-don’t-really-understand-youkind of way. This might have been the most effusively he’d ever praised my skills in all the years I’d known him.
“Thank you,” I stammered, at a total loss. “That... really means a lot to me.”
“If you need to give them references, you can give my name if you like.”
I snorted. “You’re my best friend, not my current employer.”
“The offer stands,” he said, with conviction.
“Thank you, Sam,” I said. “I... just, thank you.” And then, without thinking, I added, “I can’t wait to tell Frederick the news.”
Sam looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry. Who can’t you wait to tell? I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Um.” I reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “Just Frederick.”
Sam was smirking at me now. “Just Frederick, huh?”
“Yes,” I said. “Frederick. My roommate.” Roommates told each other things, right? Why was Sam acting like this?
“Why are you blushing?” Now even Sam’ssmirkwas smirking.
“What? I’m not blushing. It’s just... warm in here.”
Meeting Frederick in person had apparently put Sam’s mind at ease that I wasn’t living with a serial-killer monster. Which wasgreat, of course. Even if a bit ironic, since Frederick was aliteralmonster.
Only right now it wasn’t so great. Sam was acting the way he did every time I’d ever confessed a crush to him. And that just wasn’t what was going on here.
Or, even if itwaswhat was going on here, it wasn’t like anything was going to come of it.
I rolled my eyes at Sam, my irritation with him growing, then walked over to Scott, hoping that would be the end of this conversation. Fortunately, Scott was looking at his camera, not at me.
“Could I look through the pictures you took?” I asked, trying to ignore how flustered I was. “I’d like to send my application to the show organizers tonight.”
“Sure,” Scott said. He leaned closer to me so I could see his screen, and then gave me a wide, shit-eating grin. “I won’t even give you grief over how much you’re blushing over yourroommatewhile we do it, either.”
There was a note from Frederick waiting for me on the kitchen table when I got home that afternoon. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt my lips curve into a smile as I unfolded the now familiar sheet of crisp white stationery.
Dear Cassie,
What are your favorite foods?
I haven’t asked my personal question yet today, and I would like this to be today’s question.
Yours,
FJF
