But I hear Teddy call out, “Come in,” before I can turn and retrace my steps.
I’m taking a chance coming here. Rather than waiting to see if he shows up tonight, I’m taking offensive action.
I take a deep breath and open the door. Teddy is sitting at the desk in the front of the classroom, flipping through papers. He doesn’t glance up right away, so I take the uninterrupted opportunity to study him.
Ten days isn’t very long. But I feel like I can see the distance that’s stretched between us in his casual pose and rolled-up sleeves. He looks at ease here—something he rarely looked with me. Brookfield is where he fits. I’m the one messing things up with my chaotic life.
He deserves to decide for himself, I tell myself.
It doesn’t matter if he decides it isn’t worth it, that I’m not worth it. Now or later.
“Is this where detention is being held?”
Teddy’s elbow jerks, upending the cup of pens on his desk. They go flying and rolling, but he makes no attempt to pick them up. He stands, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair.
We stare at each other.
I spent an embarrassing amount of time deciding on my outfit, considering Teddy has seen me in everything from sequined gowns to sweats to nothing at all. My outfit isn’t anything remarkable—jean shorts and a T-shirt. I left my curls natural, and I’m barely wearing makeup.
Teddy makes me feel like myself. The stripped-down version with flaws and insecurities, but who is enough. I didn’t want to show up here, looking like I was about to walk out onstage.
“What are you doing here, Sutton?”
“I’m playing Chicago tonight.”
“I know. I have tickets.”
“Right. I approved those before you joined the tour, just so you know. Don’t feel like you need to come. You know, if you don’t want to.”
He crosses his arms. “Do youwantme to come?”
“Yes. Yes, I want you to be at the show. But I was…worried you might not come, which is why I’m here.”
“I’ve been to a lot of your shows. Does it really matter if I go to one more?”
“I told Ellie. About us.”
“We’re more of a series of rejections than anus, don’t you think?”
I sigh. “Teddy.”
“Fine.” His jaw works. “What did she say?”
“She said she’s…okay with it.”
Teddy lets out a mixture of a scoff and a snort. “Great.”
I swallow. “I haven’t called my mom. For weeks, I’ve had her number and done nothing with it. I was waiting for a moment when I felt brave. But then I realized I was really waiting for a time when I was mad. When I could call her and demand answers. Ask her why she never said goodbye, never gave me the chance to…why she never came back. And then I realized, I’m not mad at her.”
I take a hesitant step forward.
“I’m grateful. Because I realized if she’d never left, I’d have never moved to Brookfield.” I inhale. “I never would have met you. And I think—”
A loud, harsh, earsplitting screech interrupts me. Lights flash. Doors in the hall slam. Feet pound.
“Is that—is there a fire alarm happening right now?”
“Looks that way.” Teddy looks torn between annoyance and amusement.