Chapter 5
Nick doesn’t usually think of himself as the kind of person who goes out drinking anymore. These days, he’s not much of a drinker. Sure, during his college years, he was that guy—the captain of the football team who was practically required to down shots, dominate frat parties, and be the life of every gathering. It was a role he’d slipped into easily, if not enthusiastically, back then.
But now? Now, things are different. Years have passed, and Nick barely recognizes that version of himself. These days, after spending the week wrangling preschoolers, he doesn’t exactly have the energy for late nights or crowded spaces. He’d much rather grab a beer at home, flip on a football game, or curl up with a good book than step foot in a noisy bar.
Still, it’s Friday night, and it’s been a week. Actually, it’s been a week and a half since the school year started, and in those ten days, he’s seen Charlie Spring at pick-up and drop-off more times than he cares to count. Ten days of soft hellos, casual waves, and the increasingly frustrating way Charlie’s curls and quiet smile keep popping into Nick’s head at all hours of the day.
So, when Tara and their partner Darcy text him earlier in the day with a simple, “Drinks tonight?” Nick doesn’t hesitate.
“Yes,” he replies immediately. Yes, he wants a drink. Yes, he wants a distraction. Yes, he needs to stop thinking about Charlie Spring for at least one night.
By the time Nick walks into the bar, Tara and Darcy are already waiting for him. Tara greets him with a bright grin and a quick hug, while Darcy slides a beer across the table to him as soon as he sits down.
“Rough week?” Tara asks, raising an eyebrow.
Nick laughs, shaking his head. “You have no idea.”
Darcy smirks, leaning back in their chair with an amused glint in their eyes. “Let me guess—preschool chaos or something… else?”
Nick takes a long sip of his beer, letting the cool bitterness settle his nerves before he answers. “Both,” he admits finally.
Tara and Darcy exchange a look, and Nick groans, already bracing himself for whatever teasing they’re about to throw his way.
Nick, in a rare burst of impulsiveness, blurted it out before he could second-guess himself. “One of my student’s parents is extremely hot.”
The words hung in the air for a moment as Tara and Darcy froze, wide-eyed. He knew the reaction was coming—it always was with them—but it didn’t stop his face from heating up as their shock registered.
Nick wasn’t exactly known for talking about feelings like this. Sure, he talked about emotions—about happiness, self-care, and how to handle stress. That was who Nick was: sensitive, thoughtful, and always in touch with his emotions. But when it came to romantic feelings? Crushes? Attraction? That was another story entirely.
So the fact that he’d admitted this, out loud, to Tara and Darcy of all people? It was no wonder they were looking at him like he’d grown a second head.
Darcy, always the first to break the silence, leans forward, their grin already spreading. “Wait, wait, wait. Back up. What did you just say?”
Nick groans, running a hand through his hair. “You heard me,” he muttered, already regretting his outburst.
“Oh, we definitely heard you,” Tara chimes in, her voice laced with amusement. “We’re just… processing.”
Nick sighs heavily, looking at them with wide, pleading eyes. “I don’t know what to do, okay? I shouldn’t think he’s hot. But he just is. I mean, ugh, those stupid fucking sweaters for one!”
Darcy burst out laughing, slapping the table. “What’s wrong with his sweaters?” they ask, clearly enjoying every second of this.
“Nothing!” Nick shot back defensively, his face burning. “Nothing’s wrong with his sweaters. They look—” He cuts himself off, realizing too late where this was going.
“They look what?” Tara prompts, grinning.
Nick throws his hands up, exasperated. “They look perfect on him, okay? Which is stupid because they're old sweaters!"
Darcy nearly doubles over, clutching their stomach as they laugh. “Oh, this is amazing,” they wheezed. “You’re completely gone over a guy in a sweater.”
Nick slumped in his chair, groaning again. “You’re not helping,” he mutters, burying his face in his hands.
Tara pats his shoulder, though the smirk on her face is anything but sympathetic. “Oh, Nick, sweetie, you’ve got it bad.”
Nick peeked out from between his fingers, his voice quiet and resigned. “I know.”
Darcy, ever quick to pounce on a moment, cut in with a dramatic gasp. “Oh, wait. He, him. Ohhh, Nicky boy, your bisexuality is showing.”
Nick turns to glare at Darcy, his face already redder than it had been. “Really? That’s the thing you’re concerned about? Not the fact that I’m obsessed with one of my student’s dads?” He waves his hands in exasperation. “This goes against so many codes of conduct! What am I supposed to do?”
Tara, though clearly amused, seems a little more composed as she leans in. “Okay, first of all, take a breath. Second, obsessed is a strong word.”
Nick groans, running his hands through his hair. “No, it’s the right word. I see him every day. Pick-up, drop-off, the whole thing. And I just—he’s so—ugh! And now all I can think about is his stupid, perfectly-fitting sweaters and that ridiculous jawline.”
Darcy leans back in their chair, grinning from ear to ear. “Nicky, babe, this is gold. But you’re overthinking it. You’re allowed to find someone attractive. You’re not breaking any rules by having eyes.”
Nick gives them a look, his voice rising slightly. “It’s not just finding him attractive! It’s the fact that he’s a parent of one of my students. That makes it complicated.”
Darcy shrugs, “Only if you act on it, which you haven’t. Right?”
“Of course not!” Nick says quickly, his face heating again.
“Then you’re fine,” Darcy says breezily, stealing a sip of Tara’s drink. “You’re just a teacher with a totally understandable crush on a hot dad. Happens all the time. Teachers are people too.”
Nick slumps back in his chair, burying his face in his hands again. “This isn’t helping,” he muttered.
Tara smiles sympathetically, reaching over to pat his arm. “Okay, okay, let’s be serious for a second. Are you worried this is going to affect your job? Or is it just that you don’t know how to handle the feelings?”
Nick peeks out from his hands, sighing. “Both. It’s just… messy. And I don’t do messy.”
Darcy grins, ever the instigator. “Well, maybe it’s time you learn how. Because messy is exactly where this is heading, Nicky boy.”
Nick groans again, shaking his head. “You’re impossible,” he mutters.
Nick sighs deeply, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temples. “I mean, it doesn’t even matter anyway. He’s probably married, probably has a beautiful wife with the most beautiful locks of hair you’ve ever seen, and I’m just here—this stupid, big, old football lad.”
Tara frowns, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his arm. “Nick, you should not be telling yourself things like that.”
“I know, I know,” Nick says, waving a hand weakly. “But what else am I supposed to do? I mean, I’m his kid’s teacher. All he’s ever going to see me as is Remy’s teacher.”
Darcy raises an eyebrow, their grin turning curious. “Remy?”
Nick nods, realizing he hasn’t explained. “Yeah, that’s his son. My student.”
Darcy leans forward, their grin widening. “Well, does Remy seem to like you?”
Nick shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “Every preschooler likes their teacher. They don’t know any better.”
Darcy raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Yeah, well, are you giving him a little bit more attention than you probably should?”
Nick stammers, his face heating up. “No! I’m not… I don’t think so. He’s just—he’s a shy kid, okay? He hasn’t really made friends yet. And I guess…” He hesitates, avoiding their gaze. “I guess maybe I’m being a little nicer to him because… maybe if I win over his son, then maybe Charlie will like me.”
Tara, who has been quietly watching, suddenly cuts in. “Charlie?”
Nick freezes, realizing what he just said, and then groans, burying his face in his hands. “Yeah. That’s… that’s the Remy's dad, the boy I’m crushing on. No, not crushing on. That’s—”
Darcy interrupts with a smirk. “Yeah, that’s the boy you’re crushing on.”
Nick groans again, his words muffled through his hands. “You’re both the worst.”
Tara laughs softly, shaking her head. “Nick, sweetie, you’ve got it bad.”
Nick sighs, peeking out at them. “Don’t remind me.”
Nick sighs heavily, slumping forward with his elbows on the table, his hands covering his face. “What do I do? I can’t just—I can’t keep liking my own student’s dad. Especially if he’s married. I mean, even if he’s not married, I shouldn’t be doing that. It’s so unprofessional. And if anyone finds out… God, that would be so bad.”
He drags his hands down his face, groaning softly. “But I can’t stand it anymore. Just saying hi and hello to him every day, like it’s nothing, like I don’t feel anything. I want to know more about him.”
Darcy and Tara exchange a quick glance but stay quiet, letting Nick’s words tumble out in a rush.
“I want to know why he only wears sweaters and flannels. Does he even own t-shirts? Or does he just hate them? Does he have anything that isn’t soft and cozy-looking?” He gestures wildly, his voice growing more frantic. “And why does he look so good in those sweaters? It’s like they were made for him! It’s ridiculous.”
He groans again, burying his face in his hands. “And I want to know why he’s the only one who drops off and picks up Remy. Is the other parent in the picture or not? And if they’re not, why? Why does he always look so tired some mornings, but then he still has this smile for Remy that’s just—”
Nick stops himself, exhaling shakily. His voice softens, almost breaking. “I just… I want to know everything about him.”
There’s a brief silence before Darcy leans forward, their grin far too smug. “So, what you’re saying is… you’re definitely not crushing on him at all?”
Nick shoots them a glare, his face already flushed. “You’re not helping.”
Tara places a gentle hand on his arm, her voice calm but firm. “Nick, it’s okay to feel this way. It’s not like you’re acting on it. But you need to figure out what’s right for you. Maybe give it some time, see if it passes.”
Nick exhales sharply, nodding slowly. “Yeah… maybe.” But as the words leave his mouth, he knows they’re a lie. Time isn’t going to make these feelings go away. If anything, seeing Charlie every day is only making them grow stronger.
Nick takes another gulp of his drink, then another, the alcohol burning just enough to loosen his tongue. “I just… I want to go out and date again, you know?” He leans back in his chair, his voice quieter, tinged with something vulnerable. “It’s a little embarrassing being 29 and never having had a successful or long relationship. And my mom keeps getting on my butt about it—more about how she wants grandkids, really. And David? David is never going to get his life together, so apparently, I’m the one who’s supposed to do that.”
He exhales heavily, staring down at the table. “But it’s not just that. I want it for myself, too. I want to… I don’t know, I want to feel something again. Ever since Grant, I just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m not meant for the whole relationship thing. But I want to be. I feel like I have so much love to give, and I want to give it to somebody. To feel like it’s okay to share that with someone, you know?”
Tara smiles softly, her voice gentle but teasing. “And you want that somebody to be Charlie.”
Nick nearly chokes on his drink, shaking his head quickly. “No, I don’t… I don’t know.” He pauses, his hands running through his hair. “But maybe. I mean, this is the first time in months—no, maybe years—that I’ve actually found myself interested in someone. Like really interested. And not just because they’re nice to look at, but because they seem genuine.”
He exhales sharply, his voice picking up speed as he talks. “He actually seems like someone who cares about people. Someone who takes my work seriously, like it’s an actual achievement, not just finger painting with kids or tying their shoes. I know that sounds stupid, but it feels… different. Like he sees what I do.”
Tara leans forward, her expression thoughtful but kind. “Nick, if you have genuine feelings for this guy, and you think… or, well, even if you might think those feelings could grow, maybe it’s worth a shot.”
Nick groans, shaking his head. “It’s not that simple, Tara. That goes against, like, every code of conduct and every do-not-do-as-a-teacher rule in every single book ever made. How am I supposed to just go against that?”
Darcy smirks, leaning back casually in their chair. “Well, it’s pretty easy. You ask him on a date.”
Nick stares at them, his jaw dropping slightly. “That’s not easy at all!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up. “I don’t even know if he’s married or not. How am I supposed to figure that out?”
Darcy shrugs, their grin widening. “You could always ask his son.”
Tara’s eyes widen, and she immediately swats Darcy’s arm. “No, Darcy, absolutely not. Don’t convince him to do that!”
Nick buries his face in his hands, groaning loudly. “No, of course not! I’m not going to guilt-trip a four-year-old into telling me what his home life is like.”
Darcy holds up their hands defensively, though their smirk remains. “Okay, okay! Bad idea. I get it. But seriously, Nick, you’re overthinking this. If you want to know, you just have to ask the guy directly. No kids involved.”
Nick peeks out from between his fingers, his face still flushed. “And what am I supposed to say, huh? ‘Hi, Charlie, nice to see you again. By the way, are you single?’”
Tara smiles softly, her voice gentle. “Maybe not like that, but you can get to know him a little better. Ask about his life, see if he opens up. You don’t have to jump straight to the big questions. Start small.”
Nick sighs, dropping his hands to the table. “It’s just… complicated. And terrifying."
Tara leans forward, her voice gentle but firm. “Nick, not every single person is going to be like Grant or Olivia.”
Nick sighs, staring down at his drink, swirling it in his hand. “Maybe,” he mutters. “But I don’t know. I feel like they’re right. I am emotional.” He lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “I mean, look at me. Here I am, on a Friday night, drinking with you two and confessing my—” he pauses, gesturing vaguely, “—not love, but my obsession over a guy I don’t even know anything about.”
Tara and Darcy exchange a quick glance but stay quiet, letting Nick keep going.
“All I know is his name, the fact that he’s a dad, and that he wears sweaters. Sweaters, Tara!” He groans, dragging his hand down his face. “Maybe Grant and Olivia were right. Maybe I am too clingy, too emotional, too… whatever it is they couldn’t handle.”
Darcy leans forward, resting their chin in their hand. “Nick, come on. Being emotional doesn’t make you too much. It makes you human. If those two couldn’t appreciate that, then screw them. They didn’t deserve you.”
Nick exhales sharply, his lips pressed into a tight line. “It’s easy to say that, but it’s harder to believe. What if they were right? What if that’s just who I am, and I can’t… I don’t know… change it?”
Tara reaches out, placing a hand on his arm. “Nick, you don’t need to change it. You’re sensitive, yeah, but that’s not a bad thing. You care. You love deeply. And sure, you might be emotional, but that’s what makes you you. Someone out there is going to see that and love it, not run from it.”
Darcy nods, their grin softening into something more sincere. “Yeah, and maybe that someone is Sweater Guy. You never know.”
Nick stares into his drink, swirling it idly before letting out a soft, bitter laugh. “I wish I could get advice from Otis. He always knew what to say.”
Both Tara and Darcy exchange glances but remain quiet, sensing the shift in Nick’s tone.
He doesn’t talk about Otis much. That’s a well-known fact. Nick avoids the topic like someone tiptoeing around broken glass, careful not to reopen the wounds that still feel fresh, even years later.
Otis had been a good friend. No—a great friend. The kind of person who could read a room with ease, who always had the right words to lift you up, even when everything felt like it was crumbling. Otis had been there during Nick’s awkward first months at college, during the nights when football wasn’t enough to drown out the loneliness or the pressure of living up to expectations.
But Otis had his own burdens—ones Nick hadn’t seen, or hadn’t wanted to see. That’s the part Nick can’t forget. Can’t forgive himself for. He wasn’t there enough. He didn’t ask enough questions, didn’t check in enough, didn’t realize until it was too late.
Nick swallows hard, his grip tightening on his glass. “He always knew what to say, but I didn’t,” he murmurs. “And I should have.”
Tara places a hand gently on his arm, her voice soft. “Nick, you know it wasn’t your fault, right?”
He shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the table. “I don’t know. I feel like… maybe if I’d just paid more attention, been there for him more… maybe things would’ve been different. I feel like if Otis were here, he’d just tell me to do it,” he says with a soft, bittersweet smile. “He was always that type of person, you know? Jumping in full force without thinking about the repercussions afterward. Just… doing it and figuring it out later.”
He chuckles faintly, though it’s laced with sadness. “He’d probably laugh at me too. Tell me I’m overthinking everything. And I know you guys are probably right—that I should just try it out. I mean, no one has to know, right? I could… test the waters. See if maybe Charlie and I could actually have something. If he’s, well, if he’s single. And… interested in men.”
Darcy leans forward, resting their chin in their hand with a knowing grin. “Well, if that’s what you think Otis would say, then maybe you should listen to him. And listen to us too.”
Tara smiles softly, her voice steady and encouraging. “And, most importantly, listen to your heart, Nick. If this feels like something worth trying, then it’s worth the risk. Just take it slow. See where it goes.”
Nick lets out a long breath, staring into his drink for a moment before nodding slowly. “Yeah. Maybe. It’s just… scary, you know? Putting myself out there again. But I’ll think about it,” he says, though even as he speaks, the thought of Charlie—his sweaters, his quiet smile, the way he always kneels down to hug Remy—sits heavy in his mind.
Nick stares at his glass for a moment, swirling the last remnants of his drink. His mind drifts, unbidden, to the familiar ache he’s learned to live with. Wish you were here, Otis, he thinks, the words carrying both weight and longing.
He takes a deep breath, glancing up at the ceiling as if the universe might somehow hear him. With a small, sad smile, he raises his glass slightly toward the sky—a silent toast to a friend who should have been here for moments like this.
“Here’s to you, Otis,” he murmurs under his breath, barely audible even to himself, before bringing the glass to his lips and chugging the rest of his drink.
As he sets the empty glass down with a soft thud, the bittersweet warmth of the alcohol settles in his chest, mingling with the memories of his friend. The ache doesn’t go away, but for a fleeting second, it feels a little less lonely.
Nick can’t help but let out a small laugh, one that’s half amusement and half disbelief. He knows Otis well—knew him better than most—and Otis would definitely be laughing at him right now. Laughing at how worried he was about feelings, about doing the right thing, about playing it safe. Otis always had this way of brushing aside doubts, of jumping headfirst into life and dragging Nick along with him when he needed it most.
If Otis were here, he’d probably be grinning from ear to ear, teasing Nick mercilessly for overthinking everything. He’d call him a “hopeless romantic,” slap him on the back, and immediately volunteer to be his wingman, setting up plans to help him find a date before Nick even had a chance to argue.
So yeah, he's falling for his student's father, and he's, well he's going to do something about it.