Nope. It was official. Jewel owed her the world. Getting drunk at forty-one was way different than getting drunk at twenty-six. She wasn’t going to do it again, ever, if she could avoid it. Which she could. Her head pounded, that sharp line cutting straight across her forehead to signal another impending migraine. She would have to take some medication as soon as she got a chance, but before that, she’d have to teach these kids how to properly dissect a frog.
Inwardly groaning, Azalea put on her teacher’s mask and began the lesson. One step at a time. One period at a time. Three more periods, and then she could slink home and crash. That was it. She could do this. She would do this.
* * *
By the time Thursday rolled around, Azalea was at least feeling far more herself, which was good. Thursday night was bowling night. She still wasn’t quite sure how she’d been convinced to join the bowling team, but the ladies on her team had wrangled her into it seven years ago and she had never stopped. They’d even won a couple championships.
She had quite a few lesson plans she needed to flesh the details out on. One would think that after twenty years of teaching she’d have the routine down a bit better, but she still found herself tweaking things every day as she went. It all depended on the class and the students for that year. In a small town like theirs, they got to know the kids really well since there were only twenty to twenty-five in each grade.
Azalea stared at the football field across the parking lot to the bowling alley. Twenty years of teaching. Had it really been that long? She could barely fathom it. She’d been teaching here for seventeen of those years, and her life was absolutely comfortable. She had friends, she was accepted, she presented the persona everyone wanted her to have, and yet, some days her life was as lonely as that empty football field across the street.
Her heart clenched at the thought. It had been two years since she’d been on a date, and that relationship hadn’t lasted long. Something about not being out and proud. They’d lived hours apart anyway, so it wasn’t ideal. Still, the accusation had stung. Her mom had always maintained that if she didn’t get married in her twenties, she would die a spinster virgin. Little did her mom know on that last part, but that wasn’t a conversation Azalea was planning on having with her any time soon. As far as Azalea was concerned, her mother could die happy thinking she was straight.
Gathering her gumption, Azalea got out of her car, not wanting to be late for her game. As soon as she stepped into the bowling alley, her shoulders relaxed. She could lose herself in the games for the night and worry about her love life later. In the six-lane alley, there were six teams total. Azalea’s was up first, and then they’d have a break before they did their second round. She’d easily be there until nine that night, vying for a good score.
Jean waved her over, a grin on her face. Azalea settled her bag onto one of the hard blue plastic chairs and immediately started to change out of her tennis shoes and into her bowling shoes.
“Are you ready for tonight?” Jean asked.
“As ready as I can be.”
Jean was an older woman, retired for at least ten years from her daycare, but she still took on kids to watch as her schedule fit. In fact, the entire team Azalea played on was comprised of older retired women. She was by far the youngest in the entire tournament that year.
Loud laughter caught her attention as she tied her shoes. Glancing up, she saw the tables in the back of the room were filled with farmers, including none other than Brady Goleck. Azalea bit her tongue. She had not expected to see him there that night. She flicked her gaze over him. He was relaxed—joyful almost—with his friends, not seeming the worse for wear after the recent break up. Interesting, she thought as she tightened her shoe.
Just as she was about to stand up, Brady turned and caught her eyes. He gave her a wide grin as their gazes locked. Azalea smiled back at him as she maintained eye contact. Jean called her name, dragging her attention away from Brady and his friends and to the game they were about to play.
She won the first game. The teams rotated out, and Azalea moved to the tables in the back to order dinner and a drink. Brady was still there. She’d caught him looking at her several times throughout the last hour, but she had focused on her game. Her team sat together and waited for the orders to be taken. Brady stared directly at her from his spot in the booth.
Cocking her head to the side, Azalea tried to figure out what was going on with him. Did he want to know about Jewel and how she was faring after such a public embarrassment? She wasn’t sure what she’d be willing to share in the long run. Jewel hadn’t actually shared too much with her about what had happened. She could try to wheedle it out of Brady if she wanted, but she’d give Jewel her privacy.
“What’ll it be ladies?”
Struck from her reverie, Azalea ordered the special and a soft drink. As soon as the orders were placed, her team left for the bathrooms. Old women and their bladders. Azalea watched the table while they all left. It didn’t take longer than thirty seconds for Brady to get up from his seat and slip into one of the abandoned ones next to her.
“Hey,” he said.
“Back at you,” Azalea responded, truly curious as to where this was going.
“How’s everything going?”
Vague. He could still be fishing for information. “It’s going well.”
“School good?”
“Yeah.” She nodded and gave him a small but strained smile. This was definitely awkward. She would always be on Jewel’s side no matter what. Jewel was her best friend, and she would protect that friendship with her life if she had to. She valued it—and cared about Jewel—too much to throw her to the wolves.
“Prom should be coming up soon, right?”
“End of next month.” Azalea eyed him carefully, still unsure as to where this conversation was going. He had been her student twelve years ago, and he’d had a crush on her then, and it had been insanely awkward his senior year when he wouldn’t relent in his affections. “Are you going to be one of the volunteers for it? I can let the committee know you’re interested.”
“Are you chaperoning?”
Well, that answered one question. “Jewel and I are, yes.”
His gaze faltered. Good, she could subtly remind him of the fact she was his ex-girlfriend’s best friend and where her loyalties would lie. “A month is a good amount of time.”
“Time for what?” Azalea asked, wanting to really home in on his motives.