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This back-forth fake flirting was a morning ritual they had started back when Elise Tattersall began lifting weights in earnest after her divorce. She’d lost sixty pounds, joined the athletic department here, and started teaching yoga to seniors at the local community center.

Josh turned back to her. “All good?”

Elise seemed to be sizing him up, which made him feel awkward. “You should come do some hot yoga once a week. My ladies would sure appreciate those shorts in downward dog. Well, not the shorts, but you know…. A little healthy inspiration never hurt nobody.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, Elise.” Josh reddened slightly, wishing his clothes were a bit looser. High school Josh would’ve pissed his pants and melted into the floor from hot shame. “I’m really a running and weights guy.”

She nodded. “Well, one of these days.”

He slapped her desk but didn’t linger. After grabbing a protein shake from the office fridge, Josh poked his head into the empty gym and headed out to the hallway to start his morning patrol.

He tugged on the trusty whistle around his neck and shook his head. Elise didn’t mean any harm. The whole staff knew he was gay. She treated Josh more like a kid brother, but even so, any compliments always sat weird with him.

His fitness was hard-won, not genetic accident.

Four years of roaming these halls as a kid, overwhelmed and adrift, pining after unattainable jocks, had kicked his ass harder than the most ruthless trainer. Discipline, nutrition, and a healthy dose of hormones had done him no harm. As his late uncle used to say, “We all become the thing we desire.”

Thank God.

He glanced at his reflection in the trophy case. One thing about coaching and teaching at his alma mater: not a day went by without some reminder of how much he’d changed in the past twelve years. He tucked his polo into the shorts, smoothed the front, and double-checked his zipper.

He waved hello to Mrs. Grappo as she affixed a glittered Fri-YAY! sign to her door. Down the hall, Otis the janitor whistled tunelessly while mopping up a purple puddle, spilled juice or punch.

“Morning, Coach Ayres!” called out a student in a group of high schoolers, who all waved and grinned. Josh flashed them a smile and a nod, never taking for granted the respect he’d earned in this tight-knit community.

As one of the “cool” teachers at Hamilton High, Josh took his unofficial role as mentor and confidant seriously. He kept a sharp eye out for struggling students who needed a helping hand or a stern glare.

Wednesdays were easy. He wasn’t teaching a history elective this year and he didn’t have a gym class till late morning, so he usually grabbed a bagel in the cafeteria before teaching, but today he needed to see if Principal Carver had approved the bus budget for their spring season. Hauling kids around rural California cost money.

“Hey, Mr. Ayres,” stammered a lanky freshman clutching his schedule. “I’m lost again. Can you help me find Mr. Chan’s room?”

The boy’s hunched posture and nervous energy telegraphed plenty. Josh remembered wanting to melt into the linoleum.

“No sweat, Kevin. I’m headed that way myself,” Josh replied with a mellow shrug.

As they crossed the atrium, Josh couldn’t help but flash back to his own puberty lost in these halls. High school Joshua wouldn’t have recognized his physique or his confidence, but that awkward adolescence was the root of everything he’d become. Back then he’d been an uptight misfit who eyed and envied the hunky athletes from the sidelines. He felt ashamed of it now.

“Here you go, Kev.” Josh gestured to the classroom door. “Just remember, this hallway loops around like a square. Third door on the left. You’ll get the hang of it soon, promise.”

“Thanks, Coach. You’re the best.” Kevin swallowed nervously and dropped his eyes. With a grateful nod, he hurried into the classroom just as the bell rang.

Josh watched him take his seat.

“Josh, my man!” came a booming voice from behind him. He turned to see Principal Carver approaching. “Thanks for helping Kevin. His parents just moved here, and he’s still a bit off-kilter. You’ve got a real gift, you know that?”

“Thank you, sir,” Josh replied with heartfelt gratitude. “It’s an honor to be able to help these kids. They deserve our best. I wanted to ask about the buses.”

Carver gave him a thumbs-up and Josh grinned in gratitude.

After high school, a determination to improve himself had led Josh to commit to health and fitness. He’d promised himself to help the kids who struggled the way he had. Now as a teacher and coach, Josh strove to make school a welcoming place for all types of students.

Sure, he got lonely sometimes, even panicky. In general, being single and gay in a small town sucked. Still, even if he never met that special someone who “got” him, he could make a difference. He had nothing to gripe about.

Instead he focused on taking the steps every day, away from his past and closer to the person he dreamed of becoming: a protector, a mentor, and a friend to people who didn’t always know how to ask.

Josh entered the gymnasium, the scent of freshly polished wood and the echo of bouncing basketballs filling the air. He loved this space; it was a sanctuary for so many students, a Pause button on the pressures of high school life—a place they could focus. As he surveyed the room, his eyes fell on a group of athletes gathered around a scrawny sophomore struggling with a set of dumbbells.

“Hey, knock it off,” Josh barked, his voice firm yet compassionate. The athletes scattered like startled birds, leaving the freshman trembling in their wake. “You all right, Sanjay?” he asked. The boy’s cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.