Page 18 of Killer Summer
“They’ve got these excellent brioche croutons at the salad bar now,” Jessica said, her eyes wide and sparkling with lunchtime anticipation. “I hope they didn’t run out of ranch dressing again.”
“Did you get your final roster of students?” Dani slowed her stride to keep in step with her friend. Jessica was the same height as she was, but Dani was always one step ahead of everyone. Always trying to get ahead. Always running.
“Yeah,” Jessica said. “They overloaded me, just like I figured they would. What about you?”
“Same.”
“I should just put my money where my mouth is and finally quit,” Jessica snorted.
“I only have to suck it up for a little while longer,” Dani said, unable to mask her smile. “I think this might be my last year teaching.”
“No! Really? How?”
“Aunt Lisa is retiring. She wants me to go with her and help start up the campground at her property up in the mountains.”
“Oh right, the survival training thing!” Jessica nodded. “That’s going to be so good for you both.”
“It is,” Dani said. “I’m ready for something else. Twenty years of teaching is more than enough for me. I’m ready to throw my laptop in the lake and unplug from society for good.”
“But what about your screenplay? You’re still going to write though, right?”
Dani shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t have the same enthusiasm as I used to. I’m ready to spend some time out in nature doing something other than grading papers and moping over missed opportunities.”
“Speaking of missed opportunities …” Jessica dug an elbow into Dani’s ribcage as they rounded the corner toward the cafeteria. Ethan Baker, the new film history instructor, stood at the end of the salad bar with a pair of tongs in one hand and an empty plate in the other.
Dani groaned and gave Jessica a sideways glare. “No.”
“Come on! He’scute,” Jessica whined. “Please talk to him. I have been married for way too long. I need to live vicariously through you.”
“Jess, you know—”
“I know. You’re not into dating and especially at work.Fine,” Jessica whispered, her voice a hiss as they neared the salad bar. “But he’s smiling at you, and I suddenly need to go pee.”
“Jess!” Dani gawked as her friend scooted toward the bathroom, leaving her alone at the salad bar. She grabbeda plate, her cheeks burned as she piled her salad high with romaine, cucumbers and tomatoes.
“Hi.” Ethan turned his body toward hers and his entire face lit up in a smile. He was middle-aged like her with more reddish blond hair on his chin than the top of his head and a personality brimming with boyish charm. Ethan had written and directed a film that won Best Picture at The Southeastern Film Festival four years earlier; a dark, moody piece about a man who stared at a radio and listened to static. Dani didn’t care much for the film, but she had grown to admire Ethan from a distance over the past few weeks thanks to his seemingly upbeat, golden retriever-like attitude.
“Hi. Ready for the semester to begin?” Dani cringed. Why did small talk have to always be so obvious?
“Yep, yep,” he said, still smiling. “You?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Her cheeks flamed as she reached for the croutons. Jessica was right. They did look pretty good.
“Are you, uh, going to Wingz & Thingz tonight?”
“Huh?” Her insides liquified and she blinked. Was she being asked out? Where was Jessica anyway?
“You know, the staff mixer thing?”
“Right!” She let out a sigh of relief. “No. Probably not. I don’t really socialize much outside of work.”
“So I heard.” He chuckled and reached for a scoop of diced chicken.
“Oh? And what exactly did you hear?”
He shrugged. “Just that you’re quiet. You keep to yourself. I was kind of hoping that wasn’t true.”
“Well, it’s partially true,” she said, drenching her lettuce with vinaigrette. “I’m just… a private person.”
