Page 10 of Muscle Cub

His eyes lit up. “God, I’d love to be a professional cheerleader. Like, if only the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders had men on their team, that would be my dream job. The DCC style with the tailgating tunes they love…” He made a sound like he’d tasted something delicious. “I was made for that shit. Almost.”

“After what I witnessed at the bar, I’d say it’s their loss.”

“I was actually a cheerleader in high school. I always thought it’d be fun to be a cheerleading coach, but I don’t have any dance training. I’m just a gym rat.”

“You know, you could call yourself a fitness instructor. I wouldn’t be offended.”

He chuckled. “Why, yes. That’s a much classier term.”

“Is that what you’ll do when the summer’s over?”

We resumed our walk back down the hill, but without me to augment his balance, Austin moved at a snail’s pace.

“Um. That’s a good question.” It was the first time I’d glimpsed anything resembling a frown on Austin’s face. “I’m kinda hoping if my class is popular, they’ll hire me on as full-time resident staff. I could live here year-round. I’d stay here forever if they’d have me.”

I smiled. I didn’t want to interrupt him.

“But just in case, I’m working on some additional fitness certifications too. At this point, I kinda think it’s the only thing of value I really have to offer.”

I made a wordless sound of protest. I didn’t like hearing him talk about himself that way.

Austin held up a hand. “It’s not like that. I’m not putting myself down. I like to work out, and gyms are expensive. Teaching’s a win-win. I always wanted to be a teacher or a coach. I like kids.”

Hearing the passion in his voice I felt guilty. I didn’t love teaching. At first, I’d been satisfied to work at the same institution as my partner, but after the second book had been such a failure, I couldn’t get the expression Those who can’t do, teach out of my mind. I associated my job with fear. I tended to forget there were people like him who considered it a calling. “Why didn’t you pursue that?”

“Oh, I did.” This time, Austin’s chuckle was bitter. “Kinda fucked it up. Burned a bridge. It’s a long story. Probably not what you think.”

I didn’t know what he thought I might have presumed, but from the shift in his energy, I could tell it was something he didn’t want to talk about. I didn’t press him.

He changed the subject, turning the focus on me. “How long have you been in Edgewood?”

“Well, I grew up here and stayed for my undergrad.” I didn’t say and fell in love with my English professor. “Moved away to complete my graduate work and came back to teach seven years ago.”

“And you’ve never been here before?”

“For a long time, I was in a relationship. After that, I was afraid of running into one of my students.”

“Oh. Okay. I thought maybe it was because you’re famous.”

“Pfft. I was never that kind of famous. Few authors are.”

“I’ve met two other authors here,” Austin said.

“Really? Anybody I might have heard of?”

“Jody Summers.”

“The romance author?” The one with a bajillion titles I’d never read who was nevertheless a household name.

“Yep.”

“Jody Summers is a man?”

“Was.” Austin smiled softly. “Joseph passed away in October.”

“Oh.” It took me a moment to process both revelations. “I’m sorry to hear that.” A few follow-up questions formed, but before I could get them out, Austin moved the conversation along.

“So what are your books?”