Things are coming along really well with the fundraising campaign.

David's helped me draft up the entire thing, and we're planning to put it up on the site later this week. I know I shouldn't get my hopes up, but the goal we've set is pretty modest, and I think we can meet it within a month or so if we really advertise the page.

It's not the legitimacy I wanted for the program, but there's nothing wrong with privately owned after-school programs. And if I can convince the school board it's safe through a spotless record of kids attending, I feel confident I can eventually get them to license a bus for that purpose and make it a part of the official after-school selection they send out to parents at the beginning of each school year.

The whole thing has meant spending even more time with David, and that's been both a blessing and a curse. He's intelligent and insightful and he seems to really believe in the idea, so it's been incredibly valuable to me to have his support and his opinions. But he's also a distraction in every sense of the word, and it's only a matter of time before he catches on.

If he hasn't already. Kinda hard not to notice a guy's popping a boner when you're staring at him in only a towel. And he was staring. I've replayed that moment over and over in my mind, and I come to the same confusing, frustrating conclusion every time:

David Frazier was definitely checking me out.

It's confusing because he seems to think he's straight, though it wouldn't be the first time a guy found out he was bi. The same thing happened to me in college. The frustration is what gets to me most, because outside of indulging in the occasional fantasy that I immediately feel guilty for, I can't do anything about it.

Ever since it happened, I've told myself not to think about it; not to go over that moment ad nauseam, imagining what might have happened if I'd stepped toward him and dropped the towel. Usually I can keep busy, especially during the school day. But on days like today where I'm administering tests every period, it's nearly impossible, and as my third period class leaves, I go into my free period wondering if I have time to head over to the library and check out a book or something.

The door opens and Julie comes in with her sack lunch, right on schedule. I started letting her eat lunch in here two years ago when she was being harassed in both the cafeteria and the quad. She's on the short side, a little chubby, and incredibly shy, so apparently that makes her a good target for the bottom-feeders who suck up to the kids who think they run this school.

My colleagues think I'm coddling her; that I'm not doing her any favors by "hiding" her in here. But I remember getting the shit beat out of me at least once a week when I was her age, and I remember my teachers not doing a damn thing about it. I'm not going to be that person who enables bullying or throws a struggling kid into the shark tank. I'm just not.

"Hey, Mr. Morrison," she says, dropping her backpack beside a desk and sliding into the chair.

"Hey, Julie. Day going all right so far?"

I can usually tell when she's having a particularly rough day. Her gaze stays fixed on the floor for the most part and she has to force herself to make eye contact when I engage with her. She's not like that today. In fact, she's smiling, which is something I rarely see her do during school hours.

"So far. I got an 'A' on my French test," she says, and the smile turns a lot more guarded; like she's scared to brag about her accomplishments.

I know why, and it hurts every time I think of it.

"That's great!" I tell her, not bothering to check my enthusiasm. "I hear Ms. Smith is a hard grader."

"She is," Julie says, pulling her thermal lunch pack out of her bag, "and she had us answer an essay question in French. It was only two paragraphs, but apparently a lot of the class got points taken off for bad grammar."

I keep her talking about her classes and how she's doing, knowing it helps her to have someone who's proud of her for just making it through the damn day. I don't think a lot of parents realize how difficult it is to be a teen in the social media age, and Julie especially got thrown in front of a virtual firing squad when she posted an innocent picture of Shane and my brother to her private Facebook account.

The fact that it spiraled so out of control for the two of them was bad enough, but they're adults. Julie had to deal with the fallout on a whole other level.

Including from her parents.

She eats her sandwich and looks at something on her phone, and I pull out mine, too. My heart does a stupid little flip when I see David's name in my inbox, and I open up the email to find some revisions he made to the promotional copy.

I skip right past thinking about David and focus instead on the fact that Riley's going to be taking her first test since starting her tutoring with Julie.

"Hey, how are things going with Riley?"

Julie looks up, obviously startled. Her cheeks flush a bright red that I'm not sure is just from embarrassment at having spaced out on me.

"What?"

Her voice is about one octave higher than normal, which is really damn curious.

"The tutoring?" I ask. "Is she doing okay on the quizzes you're giving her?"

Before this whole thing officially started, I sat down with Julie and we tackled a lesson plan of sorts to get Riley up to speed. I know kids hate quizzes—especially quizzes they aren't actually being graded on—but it's the best means we have of making sure she's retaining what she's taught.

Right now, though, I'm less interested in that than I am in whatever's going on with Julie.

"Oh. Yeah, she's… no, she's good. Sometimes she gets bored. I try to make it interesting."

A small smile touches my lips despite my insistent curiosity. Julie's got a teacher's instincts, and I selfishly hope it's a career path she'll follow up on.

"Like what?" I ask, coming around to lean against the edge of my desk.

"Well." Julie realizes she isn't looking at me and lifts her head to try and make eye contact. "She was drawing while we were studying one night, so I had her draw some soldiers, and then we made up a story to help her remember what happened during Operation Overlord. You know, D-Day and all of that. I wrote it down and she drew the pictures."

That's… really cool, and way more than I would've thought to do. Julie's biting her lip as she looks up at me, and I voice those thoughts out loud.

"That's a really great idea, Julie. I'd love to see them sometime, if you're both up for it. No showing the class, I promise," I say, putting a hand over my heart.

She laughs softly. "I'll ask Riley. She's really good, but… I don't know that she really sees it."

Sounds a lot like Julie, and I think she recognizes that. I also think there's a little more going on here than she's telling me, because her cheeks are still red and she still can't quite maintain eye contact with me.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say Julie had a crush on the other girl. And… I don't know any better. Julie and I don't talk about her personal life, for obvious reasons.

The thought grabs hold of me so completely that I can't let it go. It would definitely explain the weird behavior, and the fact that Julie looks like she’s watching Riley hang the stars in the sky whenever she talks about her.

But I'm probably just projecting; finding a kindred spirit where this is none.

"Mr. Morrison… can I ask you a personal question?"

Her voice is so quiet I can barely hear her, but I nod. "Yeah, of course."

"When did you…" She draws in a huge breath and lets it out. "When did you figure out you liked other men?"

I've worked hard to keep my personal life separate from my professional life. There are still people who wrongfully assume straightness is a requirement for teaching kids, and I never wanted to be forced to defend what I do on my own time just to keep my job.

But Julie's perceptive, and she's been at the ranch enough to overhear Shane and I talking. At the very least, I'm positive she's heard him tease me about the fact that I haven't dated a guy pretty much since college.

Maybe it's something I shouldn't discuss with her, but she's coming to me with this question because she has nobody else to talk to. How can I refuse to offer guidance and support? That just goes against everything I strive to do as a teacher.

"Well, it wasn't until I was in college. I actually developed a crush on Shane—he was my roommate back then. I didn't recognize it for what it was immediately, but once I did, a lot of other things just sort of fell into place."

Julie worries her lip before asking, "And how did you realize it was a crush?"

I laugh and ruffle a hand through my hair, feeling a little self-conscious. “Well, I used to sit behind him in English 101, and I always had this crazy urge to touch him. Sometimes, it would get so bad my hand would actually ache with how much I was having to keep myself from not doing it—I swear it was like it was possessed or something."

She laughs, and the blush in her cheeks brightens. I know instantly that she knows what I'm talking about. Who hasn't felt that nagging desire to just run your fingers through your crush's hair?

His messy, ginger hair…

"Do you think you might have a crush on Riley?" I ask, deciding to just cut to the chase.

Her gaze flees from mine, but she nods silently.

"That's totally okay, Julie. There's nothing wrong with that. It's normal and healthy and I hope you don't think anything differently."

"I don't," she says, almost defensively, "but…"

Her parents do. Staunchly conservative, I'm pretty sure her parents would ground Julie until she graduated if they found out she liked girls. And that's on the mild end of what I can imagine them doing.

I come over and slide into a desk beside her, and finally she meets my eyes. She's scared—I can see it, plain as day. But there's an excitement there, too, borne of that feeling you only get with your first intense crush.

"You're almost eighteen, and that means who you choose to see, what you choose to do with your life—that's for you to decide. I know it's hard to stand up to your parents, but your life isn't their life."

It's a lesson I had to learn the hard way after years of trying to get my dad to pay attention to me. Nothing I could do was ever going to change him, so I was better off pursuing what I loved, not what I thought he wanted me to love.

"I know," she says softly.

Her phone catches her attention and a smile brightens her features. I don't need to see the screen to know she must be texting with Riley.

When she looks up at me again, there's apprehension in her eyes. "I don't know if she'd even ever… like me like that."

David has never said whether or not his daughter is queer. He might not know either way, and it's honestly none of my business. But in that moment, I decide Julie needs an ally in this. Maybe two, if I can get him on board.

"If she can't, then she's either crazy, or she's just straight. It happens sometimes," I say with a sympathetic smile. "You'll never know unless you ask."

Julie's face pales. "I can't just ask. Isn't there… some way I can find out without having to ask directly?"

"What, like a note?" I shake my head. "Those never work out the way you plan. Take it from somebody whose love note was passed around half the freshman class."

"Oh, God," Julie says, looking like she's about to be sick.

I put a hand on her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze. "Hey, I get it. It's terrifying, and you don't have to jump in headfirst if you don't want to. Maybe just dip a toe in first. You know more about yourself now, so you can look at this situation through that lens. If Riley's doing some of the things you questioned in yourself, then maybe she feels the same way."

"I guess that makes sense."

The shrill sound of the bell startles us both. Julie hurries to pack her lunchbox away, her next class clear on the other side of campus.

Before she leaves, I try to get in one more piece of maybe-not-so-sage advice. “Hey, Julie?"

"Hm?" she asks, obviously distracted.

"You're an awesome person, and she'd be lucky to have you. But if she's not interested? That's not the end of the line, okay? You'll have plenty of other chances."

"I know," she says simply before ducking out of my classroom.

It's something I had to tell myself a lot when I was younger, especially after Travis came out and life seemed so easy for him. I know better now, but at the time, I needed the reminder that I'd eventually find somebody.

Over ten years later, and the only thing I've got to show for my efforts is yet another crush on a man who's probably straight, despite the bi-curious staring.

But now I've at least got two distractions to keep me from doing something stupid: The fundraiser, and whatever may or may not be developing between Julie and Riley.