I work at my classroom desk long after I've finished grading the first week’s quizzes, waiting for Mr. Wright to inevitably come fetch me once everyone is corralled for drinks. I’ve already separated the few students who scored less than 80%—a satisfyingly small stack—and now I’m focused on my other evaluations. I type my thoughts into OneNote, keeping track of each match on a separate page. 

I scroll through the pages of past conquests, quickly adding a note to Principal Peeters’ and Mr. Johanson’s page about them moving in together. I pass over my smaller side projects: students I’ve noticed already dating or who need little to no intervention from me, a hopeful gay couple in my last period and a current student dating one of my previous students. 

Finally, I get to the section with my current matches. 

“Sirena Lynx and Isabella ???”

“Adan Riviera and Jason Mayer (current Lucy Roads)”

“Rosa Perez and Bill Keesh”

“Thaddeus Wright and ???”

I edit the last page’s title to say, “Thaddeus Wright and Evelyn Hart”.

“My initial assessments suggest high compatibility in music and literature,” I type. “However, she is recently divorced and, therefore, might not be ready to start a new relationship. I will tread carefully and foster a friendship between the two first. Besides her sister, who watches her son for a few hours after preschool, her family lives in Charleston. Grandville Symphony is performing Rachmaninoff Piano Concertos in three weeks: an ideal first date. I will offer babysitting.”

“Mei,” Thaddeus’s deep voice startles me. “Have you checked your messages?” I minimize my screen and look up at him, relieved to see him a safe distance away still in the doorway. 

“It’s Ms. Huang to you even after school hours, and what’s going on? Is everyone ready to go?”

I shut down my laptop and stuff it into my shoulder bag, pulling out my phone at the same time. 

“Sadly, drinks have been postponed,” he says dramatically, “until next week.”

Indeed, several message notifications from our group chat pop up as soon as I click on my phone screen. Ms. Evans saying her cat is sick, Billy has a last-minute family commitment, and Mrs. Harrison with a migraine. In the end, Dr. Schneider suggests we go out next week instead, to which several of the newbies eagerly agree, saying they are too busy with paperwork this weekend to really cut loose anyways. 

“Oh,” I slump slightly, the wind taken from my sails. No drinks with coworkers tonight, a weekend without any of my students, and on Sunday… I grimace. 

“Want to go grab dinner anyways?” he offers. 

“With Ms. Hart?” I perk up, thinking it’s too bad Billy is busy or I’d invite him and Ms. Perez too. 

Mr. Wright hesitates, looking conflicted. “You really want to torture me that badly?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t like her too.” I shove his shoulder playfully, to which he just grunts. 

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll text her and ask if she’s left yet.”

“Ooo,” I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “You already have her number?” I tease.

“Yes, why? Do you want it or something?”

“Yes, but I’ll ask for it myself, thank you very much. It’s quite rude, you know, to give out other people’s numbers without their knowledge.”

Luckily, Ms. Hart’s only just barely stepped outside when we catch her, and she readily agrees to a casual dinner amongst friends. This is perfect. Ms. Hart already fits in so well in our group, an easy conversationalist and pleasant personality. Being an absolute sweetheart, I find it difficult to imagine her not getting along with anyone, but I’m glad she seems to have taken a liking to us by eating lunch with us every day. Naturally, hanging outside of work hours is the next step, and if we can ditch all the extras? So much the better. 

Now, if only I could find a way to naturally dip out early and leave these two lovebirds alone…

“Tell us more about your son,” I prompt Ms. Hart as we wait in the assembly line at the Tex-Mex restaurant. “Jimmy right?”

Ms. Hart’s eyes light up and her smile warms as she talks about her kid. “Yeah, his language has really exploded this year. He used to be really quiet and shy, but now he’s a little rascal, getting into all sorts of trouble.” 

“That tends to happen once they start preschool,” Mr. Wright says. “All that socialization with other children.”

Ms. Hart’s eyes dim a little bit, but why, I’m not quite sure. “That’s true, I suppose. He didn’t get much socialization before.”

“Well, Mr. Wright loves kids, don’t you?” I hint, hoping to change the subject and redirect the conversation. 

He lifts a brow at me, as if to ask “What are you doing?”, but actually says, “Don’t all teachers like children?”

“If only,” Ms. Hart laughs. “You would not believe how many teachers in Charleston hated their jobs. Always complaining and the like. Nothing like the culture here. Everyone has been so incredibly nice, and you all act like a big family, but also seem to really enjoy your work.”

“It’s easy to enjoy when the kids are as wonderful as ours,” I say. 

“So I’ve noticed. Sorry, I never asked, but do either of you have any children?”

“No,” Mr. Wright answers for both of us, “but Ms. Huang has a nephew your son’s age.”

“Really? Does he live close?”

“Yeah, my sister and her husband live just thirty minutes south of here in the suburbs of Columbia. Maybe we could do a playdate sometime when I’m babysitting for her?”

“Already introducing her to the family?” Mr. Wright mumbles as we approach the front of the line. He starts ordering his food while I continue talking to Ms. Hart.

“Ignore him. I usually do. He’s just bitter that he hasn’t met my adorable niece and nephew in person yet. He’s constantly trying to get me to invite him over.”

“You want the usual?” Mr. Wright asks me over his shoulder. 

“You know me,” I answer before turning back to Ms. Hart.

“A playdate sounds really nice,” Ms. Hart smiles softly. “As long as Thaddeus isn’t cut out of the cuteness loop forever.”

“You run a hard bargain, Ms. Hart,” I narrow my eyes at her in playful resentment, “but actually, I know how difficult it can be to find a spare evening to yourself as a young mom. So, if you ever need me to babysit for you, just say the word.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” Ms. Hart says as she starts ordering. 

When we make it to the end of the line and Ms. Hart begins to take out her wallet, I stop her with a hand on hers. “Let me. My treat.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly–”

“Nonsense. We invited you out, so we should be the ones to pay.” 

Before she can protest I tell the cashier that I’m paying for her meal too, but he surprises me by saying, “Oh, actually, the gentleman in front of you already paid.”

I whip around to where Mr. Wright is already filling up three water cups at the drink fountain. As if he can feel my gaze on him, our eyes lock and he straight up smirks at me. Why that sly little–

I bite back a smile. He must really like this one if he’s already paying for her meals. It would be just like a date if I wasn’t there playing the intruding third wheel. The perfect opportunity to dip comes when Daiyu calls me just as we find a table. 

“Oh, this is my sister,” I say, pointing at my phone. “She might be in crisis. You know how young motherhood is. Do you mind?”

They nod, and I slip out of our booth. Mr. Wright lifts an eyebrow when I pick up my burrito bowl too, but I just mouth, “This might take a while,” as I answer my phone.

He frowns at my explanation, but he’ll thank me later after he’s spent an evening alone with this angel. By the time I’m walking away, they’re already talking about some author I don’t know, so I’m fairly confident they’ll be just fine without me. 

“Daiyu, what's up?"

“Hey, Mei,” my sister greets while voices talk animatedly in the background. Something about legos and color coordination. “I’m just calling to confirm you are going to show up to family dinner on Sunday.”

I roll my eyes as I push open the glass door to the restaurant with my food container in hand. “Yes, I’m coming.”

“You promise?” The noise suddenly drops in volume as she steps into a quieter room without the kids. 

“Of course.” As much as I’d like to bail, I always keep my promises. “Why are you asking? Did Ma put you up to this?” 

“No reason, she just really wants to see you this month.”

“I just saw her last—”

“Three months, Jiejie. It’s been three months.”

I stop in the middle of the parking lot, a little stunned. Has it really? How did I avoid them the whole summer? Now I feel a tad guilty, if only because that means I also haven’t seen Gugu in three months. I have no interest in seeing my parents this weekend. It's just going to be another evaluation in which they deem me as a failure.

“They only ask you to come once a month, Mei. It’s really not too much to drive an hour to see your parents.”

“I know, I know,” I sigh as I unlock my car. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there Sunday.”