This work week was unusually difficult, so for once I’m looking forward to the weekend. The whole school has been at an all time low and, as teachers, we bear the brunt of it. We need time to unwind and emotionally detach from our kids’ lives. So, a night on the town is just the high we desperately need.

“Finished with your evil scheming for the week?” Mr. Wright calls from my door, gesturing as I shut down my laptop and stuff it into my shoulder bag.

I smirk. “Not quite.” He lifts a brow, questioning my intentions. “Billy’s coming tonight, right?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I think Billy and Rosa can manage drinks without your meddling.”

“Are we talking about the same two people who spent three years mooning over each other before either had the courage to say hello?”

“Of course, silly me. I should have known you couldn’t spare one night off to enjoy yourself.”

“A matchmaker’s work is never done. Speaking of enjoying yourself, where’s Ms. Hart?” 

His breath catches and his posture stiffens at the mention of the pretty English teacher. “She’s waiting by her car with the others. We decided to carpool, since she offered to be a designated driver.”

I smile at his nervous expression. “Sounds good to me. Where are we headed tonight?” I ask as we walk down the empty halls to the back stairwell. “Happiest Hour?” 

“Highbar, I think." He pulls out his cell to double check. 

“Really?” I ask, excited. “That’s my favorite.”

“You just like the name.”

“That. And they’re the only place in town that serves lychee.”

“Because heaven forbid you drink beer like a normal person.”

“Don’t even pretend you aren’t an alcohol snob too,” I tease.

“Hit me where it hurts, Mei.”

“Ms. Huang,” I remind him as we exit the building, stepping into the warm August night. 

A cluster of teachers loiters in the employee parking lot like a gang of teenage ruffians. Ms. Perez is talking to Ms. Hart, but standing suspiciously close to Billy who is chatting up Dr. Schneider and Mr. Fiest, our janitor. A dozen other teachers, including Mrs. Neilson, sit on the hoods of the cars or lean on the windows, conversing happily. I wonder who invited Mrs. Neilson, and if I can possibly avoid her all night. 

“There they are!” Billy shouts when he spots us walking over. His pudgy face rounds out into an enormous grin. A chorus of “That’s everyone, right?”s and “Let’s go!”s spring up around me as I enter the fray, heading straight for the friendly electrician. 

“Hey Billy,” I greet. “I feel like we need to catch up.”

“Before she gets too inebriated,” Mr. Wright says from behind me. 

“Ride with us?” I ask, ignoring him. 

“Oh,” Billy glances between me and Dr. Schneider, and I can see the excuse forming on his lips. “I’m actually—” 

“Ms. Hart is driving Ms. Perez and us,” I tag on.

Billy’s eyes immediately dart to the petite Ms. Perez, already climbing into Ms. Hart’s gray Honda, clearly conflicted. 

“It might be a tight squeeze,” I smirk, “but I think Ms. Perez is small enough to sit between us. What do you think?”

Friends or love interest? The question is clear as day on his face. Of course, he makes the only logical choice in this situation. “Well, if it’s ok with her…”

I nod eagerly. 

“Then that sounds great—I mean, I’d love to catch up.”

After telling Dr. Schneider he found a different ride, he practically skips to the Honda. 

“You’re shameless, you know that?” Mr. Wright whispers in my ear as we follow.

“I know,” I grin, already feeling like this weekend is off to a better start than my week. 

Ms. Hart’s car is actually quite roomy in the back, and we are all short enough that it doesn’t bother us. Mr. Wright grumbles something ridiculous about not needing to sit in the front every time, but what sane human would ever think a man that tall could fit in the backseat of any car? Besides, it’s only right that he should sit in the front with his future girlfriend.

Of course, my master plan to put these two couples in close proximity has the desired effect as the car quickly devolves into two separate conversations. At certain points, Billy tries to engage with me, as if remembering that I’d claimed I wanted to catch up, but it takes very little to redirect his attention back to my friend with a couple well placed, “Ms. Perez was just telling me about a new recipe,” and “Wasn’t that the show you were telling me about, Ms. Perez?”

Mr. Wright similarly tries to draw me into the front seats’ conversation, but it’s too difficult to hear them, and thankfully he gives up quickly. Just observing their interactions is more than enough for me. The low hum of Mr. Wright’s smooth voice accompanies Ms. Hart’s near constant smiles and giggles, confirming their effortless compatibility. It’s satisfyingly similar to watching one of those old school graphing calculators slowly plot out a complex function on its tiny screen. Once I’ve plugged in all my calculations, I enjoy just watching my efforts pay off without any more interventions. This is their story, after all, not mine. 

Twenty minutes later, we park in one of those pay-by-app lots downtown with three other cars. Ms. Hart studies the signage, searching the App Store on her cell. 

“Let me,” I place a hand on her arm. “I’ve already got this app.” 

“Are you sure?” Ms. Hart asks. “I’m not buying alcohol, so I don’t mind paying for parking.”

What an absolute angel has fallen into my life! “But you’ve got a son to look after and paid for gas, so let me.”

“Thanks,” she sheepishly tucks her phone away. 

As we follow the other Grandville High employees into Highbar, I step back to allow Ms. Perez and Billy some privacy. Mr. Wright stays frustratingly close to me, even when Ms. Hart is pulled ahead into another conversation. 

“That was nice of you,” he says. 

“Shocked to discover I’m actually a nice person?” 

“Nah, it’s just usually you have ulterior motives for being nice.”

Ulterior motives! How dare he suggest any such thing?! I only want to see my friends happily paired off. Is that so wrong?

“Oh don’t pout, Mei. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Just that you must really like this one.”

“Of course I like her. Don’t you?”

Mr. Wright grunts noncommittally, but I know he’s just being shy.

“Come one,” I laugh, “First one’s on me.”

When we enter the bar, I’m pleased that Ms. Perez and Billy stay paired off, joining a booth with Dr. Schneider and Mr. Fiest. Perhaps I won’t need to intervene too much tonight. Best to give them some space to flourish. 

Mr. Wright and Ms. Hart, however, prove more difficult to keep together. Both are understandably quite popular with all the teachers. Within moments, they’re swept away, Ms. Hart by another newbie asking how she is managing all the onboarding, and Mr. Wright by Ms. Evans, the librarian, who I know he isn’t interested in. 

I know, because I vainly attempted to set them up last year. Within the first week, I realized I had miscalculated Mr. Wright’s flirtatious behavior as interest, but poor Ms. Evans never got her memo. Of course, knowing Mr. Wright a little better now, I realize his playful, outgoing nature is not intentional flirting. No, seeing him interact with Ms. Hart, I believe he is more reserved with the object of his affection. 

I consider rescuing Mr. Wright from Ms. Evans’ wanton attention, but, upon spotting Ms. Hart at the bar, I decide he perhaps deserves to learn he can’t just lead women on without any consequences. Ms. Hart is asking the bartender for lemon water when I approach. However, before I open my mouth, Mrs. Neilson scoots over to her, already nursing a vodka soda, and says, “Is that all you’re having?”

Ms. Hart looks up at Mrs. Neilson, and in all innocence says, “Oh no. I might order some nachos later.” 

Mrs. Neilson laughs, and Ms. Hart grins sweetly in response, unaware of the coarseness in that laugh. “You should let loose a little. We’re going to be here for several hours. Plenty of time to sober up.”

“Thanks for letting me know, but I don’t drink alcohol,” Ms. Hart says. 

Mrs. Neilson snorts. “Is there a story behind that?”

I insert myself a bit awkwardly between them, interrupting their conversation. “There you are, Mrs. Neilson! I was looking for you.” I turn to the familiar bartender to give myself more time to formulate a lie while I order, “One Pimm’s cup and a lychee nut cocktail, Joey.” 

“You got it, Mei,” he says. 

“What did you want?” Mrs. Neilson asks.

“Oh, I just remembered, there’s a section of next week’s lesson plan that might be a bit confusing. Maybe we could find a table to talk it over? That is if Ms. Hart doesn’t mind me stealing you for a minute.”

“I don’t mind,” Ms. Hart says quickly. 

“Whatever,” Mrs. Neilson says. 

“One Pimm’s cup,” Joey passes me the rich golden drink with mint leaves floating on the top. 

“Ms. Hart, could you take this to Mr. Wright, please? I promised him the first drink.” I motion to the cocktail helpfully, but when Ms. Hart takes a bit longer than I expect to respond, I worry I may have said something wrong. She stares at the drink, scrunching her brow together. I’m about to retract my request–despite it being a brilliant stroke of genius to rescue both teachers from their respective awkward situations in one fell swoop–when she nods and picks it up. 

“Sure,” she smiles and walks away with the drink in search of the orchestra teacher. 

A moment later, Joey gives me my drink, and I immediately take a deep sip, preparing myself to talk with Mrs. Neilson. She smiles at me in a way that sets my nerves on edge. “Keep them coming, Joey,” she says. 

“You got it, boss.”

I take another gulp of alcohol, swallowing nervously. 

“So?” Mrs. Neilson asks casually. “What did you want to tell me, or were you just trying to keep me from making any friends?”

Harsh, but I get it. She’s mad at me. That’s understandable. Maybe I shouldn’t have broken up her conversation with Ms. Hart. Afterall, the kindhearted English teacher might not mind Mrs. Neilson’s coarse mannerisms. “Sorry about that,” I try a gentle smile, the one I use on teens who are upset. “Truth be told, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot last year. Maybe now that we aren’t working together so closely, we can get along?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? That I’m hard to work with?” 

I down my drink faster than I intend to. “No, no, just that two tigers can’t share one mountain.” Mrs. Neilson narrows her eyes at me, trying to decide if I just insulted her or not, so I quickly tack on, “Let’s start over. Be friends. How was your summer?”

Mrs. Neilson sighs, picks up her drink, and launches straight in with, “Actually it was pretty crappy, thanks for asking. My husband and I went on this cruise with my sister’s family, and you know they never think we’re good enough for them…”

I nod along, definitely consuming more alcohol than I intend to as Joey keeps our drinks flowing per Mrs. Neilson’s request. Perhaps it’s my quickly approaching inebriation or just the knowledge that my teacher couples are together and happy, but somehow I find myself enjoying her angry rant. It’s sort of endearing in her own way. 

“How rude,” I’d say or “No, she didn’t,” while I try to process every word. Had I misjudged Mrs. Neilson? Maybe she really did have a difficult family life with people who didn’t approve of her. Same as me. 

When the room begins to shift slightly around me, I think it’s a good idea to start sharing too. “My familishss never shupported my decish—shionss either. I had thish friend in college—”

“Am I interrupting something?” a deep voice says from behind me. 

“Mishter Wright!” I exclaim excitedly. He winces back. How rude! I throw my arms around him so he can’t leave. “I wush jush about ta tell Msh Neilsh about Reeshe!”

“I know. It’s time to get you home.”

I don’t like that idea very much. I’m having fun with Mrs. Neilson, which I never do. Surely it’s a good idea to stay and have a few more drinks. 

“No thanksh,” I say simply, expecting that to be the end of the discussion. 

“Come on Mei. I’ll call us a cab.”

I furrow my brows, trying to remember why that’s a bad idea. Something about him needing to do something while here. Something about… our driver? Oh, that’s right! His match!

“If Msh. Hart isin leaving, neither am I.”

Just then, an angel with wheat blonde hair appears before me. Their face is a bit blurry, but maybe that’s just the result of them being dead. They’re still the single most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen. My heart stops and then beats wildly when they speak, “Ms. Huang, maybe you should listen to Thaddeus—”

“Reese!” I throw my arms around them, pushing past Mr. Wright to reach them. 

They huff in surprise, stumbling back slightly. So cute. 

“You came! I hath so much to tell you. Do you know Mishter Wright?”

“We’ve met,” they giggle. So bubbly.

“Of coursh you’d know him. You mush know everything now.”

“Oh-kay. Time to go.” Mr. Wright pulls on my arm, trying to separate me from my angel. 

“But Reese jush got here,” I try to reason with him. 

“Which is why it’s time to go.”

I mull over his words carefully. I suppose if I’m seeing ghosts, I might be drunker than I think. Except they aren’t a ghost, because I can feel them and Mr. Wright can see them. So they must be an angel. 

“Is she going to be alright?” they worry over me like the angel they are. “She seems confused.”

“It’s fine. She always gets like this when she drinks too much.”

Like what? I think I hold myself together pretty well when drunk. I haven’t said anything embarrassing that I can recall. Thaddeus is so mean. 

“I know where she lives. I’ll take care of her.”

“I can take her home if you want to stay,” my angel offers. My heart soars, blacking my vision momentarily. Reese always took such good care of me after drinks night. 

I stumble outside with a support under my arm. Was Reese always this tall?

I slump against a warm body in the backseat of a cab. Why are they so firm?

I’m plucked out of the car by gentle arms and carried into my home. They weren’t this strong in life. Must be an angel super power. 

I giggle at the thought as I’m plopped onto my soft mattress. My heels are pulled off, and I take that as my cue to begin undressing. I’m startled by a firm grip stilling my fingers as I fumble with the buttons of my shirt. Male hands? Maybe Thaddeus took me home afterall? Did that meanie really leave Reese behind?

“Reese?”

I blink, trying to clear my vision. Trying to focus on the form leaning over me. 

Slowly it resolves into a soft feminine face. Long platinum hair. Rosy cheeks. Sparkling blue eyes. I melt, recognizing them even with the room spinning behind them. 

“Why am I doing this?” they mumble. 

“I’m sorry, Reese. I drank too mush again.”

“It’s alright. I’ll always take care of you.”

“You’re too good to me.”

They blush prettily, looking away as if nervous. 

“What’s wrong, Reese? Isn’ heaven nice or do you mish me?”

“Mei, do you love me?”

My whole face scrunches. “What kind of question is that?” Are they worried I’ve forgotten about them? How can prove I still feel the same? That no one can ever compare? “Come here shǎguā.”

I grab their face and kiss them.