“Mr. Saunders!” a student came skidding into his class twenty minutes after the final bell had rung. His arms pinwheeled around him as he tried to catch his balance; even with that precaution, he would have fallen over if Ashe hadn’t skirted around his desk to help him.
Ashe was laughing when the red-faced student was able to stand firmly without his help. “It’s nice to see you too, Thomas,” he chuckled, reaching up to readjust his ears because they’d tipped sideways in his rush. “I assume there’s a reason you almost fell on your face in your hurry to get to me?”
“Yes! We need your help!” Thomas was gasping, making it obvious he’d run quite a distance.
With only a moment’s thought, Ashe realized why Thomas would be so exhausted from running to him; Thomas was supposed to play the supporting role in the school’s fall play. Ashe had been proud of him, and would have been more than willing to help… if Cormac wasn’t directing the play.
It was written all over his face as he turned away, putting his back to his student so he wouldn’t feel guilty. “Sorry, but I have work to do,” he mumbled, tapping only slightly messy papers into a neat pile.
“Mr. Saunders, please. We won’t be able to do the play without your help!” Thomas pleaded.
Ashe could imagine him as a puppy, tail wagging, brown eyes huge as he pleaded for the food from his plate. He wanted to say no. But it had never been in his nature to deny something that cute. Turning back to Thomas, he forced an expression of calm compliance, when everything in him was rebelling; his mind screaming not to go, and his heart racing at the thought of being in the same room as the red-haired teacher who had caused him so much trouble. “What do you need?” he sighed, resigned.
That was how Ashe found himself in the school’s theatre five minutes later, a script thrust into his hands and a mic pinned to the collar of his white dress shirt. “Why did I agree to this?” he muttered to himself.
“Because you’re a good person,” Cormac breezed, throwing an arm around his shoulders.
Ashe’s face heated, an increasingly common occurrence, and he swore silently as he realized everybody in the theatre had heard them thanks to that damn mic. “Get off of me,” he huffed, shrugging out from under the taller teacher’s arms. Throwing an acidic glare over his shoulder, he moved to where the blocking cues on his script directed him to be.
“I thought only students were allowed to perform in the plays,” he leaned sideways, peering over Deandra’s shoulder to see what her part was.
The student fidgeted, holding the script where he could better see which lines were highlighted in pink- she was the female lead. “That used to be the rule, but the drama club has lost a lot of participants since most of them were seniors last year. When Cormac went to the dean, Rahil said it would be fine if you were the lead,” she said with a shrug, glancing up at him before quickly returning her eyes to the paper.
“I need to have a talk with the dean,” Ashe muttered, backing up a few steps because he recognized that quick glance- he’d seen it from any number of the students who found him attractive. He’d seen it from the other teachers, too- especially Cormac.
Deandra noticed- how could she not- and sighed quietly. “I’m sure you’ll be great, Mr. Saunders,” she chirped, forcing herself to smile.
“Of course he will,” Cormac called from his seat in the first row of the plush theatre chairs, “I wouldn’t have chosen somebody who couldn’t pull his weight. Now, let’s pick it up from Act Three, Scene One.”
The members of the drama club hustled to get into their places, with Ashe at precisely center stage. He blinked as a spotlight turned on and settled on him, half blinding him. Shaking his head, he trained his eyes on the page, his voice filling the theatre as he started the scene.
Cormac watched the younger teacher with sharp eyes. He hadn’t expected him to look so good onstage. The spotlight made his silver-white hair glimmer, and it didn’t take long for him to drop the script- as an English teacher, Shakespeare would be something he’d remember- and devote himself to truly acting out the scene. Even the students looked impressed by the love writ clear on Ashe’s expression, in the lines of his body as he reached up to plead; he was almost as good as Cormac.
And he was just as good as Cormac on opening night. The redhead sat down with the orchestra, listening to Ashe’s voice ring out, turning a high school performance into something that entranced the audience completely. And he was the most enthusiastic when Ashe came forward to bow at the end, his face as red as it had ever been, but a genuine smile on his face when he looked at Cormac and mouthed his thanks.
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