Page 13 of D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding

“Well, alright. Let’s do this.”

Sighing, she folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Tell me something I need to know about you. Something your girlfriend would absolutely know.”

“Uh...” I looked up at the clear sky, taking a moment to think. “I can bench press ten reps of 265 lbs.”

Her brows shot up in surprise. “Oh, wow. Why would your girlfriend need to know that though? Do you only date gym rats?” She wrinkled her nose, clearly put off by the possibility.

I chuckled lightly, unable to stop the sly grin from crossing my face as I stared at her slightly amused, very attractive face. Just the fact that she seemed to genuinely be confused by my declaration brought a bit of giddiness to my disposition.

“I mean...any girlfriend of mine might be very interested in the fact that I can pick her up without straining.”

“Oh,” she mouthed silently, and I laughed. “I—um. Well, I can’t really see a scenario where that sort of information might come up, but I guess I’ll—uh...keep that in mind.” She cringed and dropped her gaze to the table. It was like those cartoons of children’s dreams appearing in a bubble above their heads, the way I could almost see her visualizing how that might play out in her mind. I decide to give her an out.

“Do you have a day job? Tell me about it?”

A soft smile graced her face. It was just a small lifting of the corners of her mouth, but her cheeks bloomed and her eyes lit up and holy shit my breath caught in my throat. She was really, really fucking beautiful. Picture perfect. She reached up to brush her hair from her face and I shifted in my seat, realizing that I was staring. It had only taken a few minutes of laughing and conversation for me to lose myself and forget the overall reason why we were sitting on this rooftop patio in the first place.

This is a business lunch, Kris. This isn’t a date.

Yet. Maybe.

Thankfully, D’Vaughn answered my question, pulling me out of my wayward thoughts.

“I’m a ninth-grade guidance counselor.”

“That’s dope!”

That already eye-catching smile widened, and she dipped her chin in acknowledgment. “Thanks. It’s so important to make sure our babies are on the right path from the word ‘go,’ you know? On top of that, the school I work for is phenomenal. They even granted me off for today without hesitation. I’m all-around blessed in my career. I truly love it.”

Watching her speak, it was incredibly obvious that she did. Suddenly, she was so animated; waving her hands around as she spoke, leaning forward, her lips parted in a toothy smile, her eyes bright and interested. When she finished, her smile remained as she nodded for me to go.

“And you? What do you do for a living?”

Rubbing my chin, I canted my head to the side. “Ah, that’s kind of complicated.”

“How so?”

“Because it’s a two-parter. I have a nine-to-five, and I have a side gig where I make my living.”

“Okay, wait. That sounds interesting. Start with the nine-to-five.”

“I’m a middle school gym teacher. This meeting just happened to fall during my free period.”

“Wow! Really?” Her lips formed an O. She looked completely surprised, which I get, but still I pursed my lips.

“Dang, beautiful. Why you say it like that?” I asked teasingly. “I don’t look like I can shape young minds?”

“Well,” she begins measuredly, “you have your last name tattooed in Old English font across your neck like a three-inch-wide choker, and naked, female-presenting deities on each of your forearms.” Lifting her hands into the air, palms out, she sat back. “I’m not judging you for it at all. In fact, I’m finding all of the ink incredibly pleasing to the eye. However, I just remember schools being more conservative about the teachers’ appearance.”

She’d low-key called my tattoos attractive but instead of pointing that out, I nodded my head.

“No, you’re right. They still are, to an extent. I think I just got a pass because they were more concerned about the fact that I was wearing traditionally masculine clothing and didn’t have time on the agenda to get to my tattoos.”

Her face immediately sobered as she sat forward.

“They gave you crap about your clothes?”

“The principal did—or rather, he tried to. It didn’t last long and now everything’s all good.” It had taken a while for things to get here though. My hometown was extremely conservative, and I’d spent my youth counting down the days until I could move to Houston proper, just sure that the liberal city was what dreams were made of. As soon as I graduated college, my sisters and I relocated an hour and a half south, only for me to get a job at an ESL magnet and be hit with the same ignorance I’d dealt with when I was a teenager navigating the education system. The realization that no place was perfect had been more than disheartening, and I’d taken my lumps for being visibly queer, but I gave those shits right back because I had no intention of changing who I was.