Page 11 of Need S'More Time

"You are seven months older than me," June said, rolling her eyes. She looked at Colin, assessed to see if he was leaving. "Do you want another? I'm down to stay if you are?"

"I'd love another beer," he said. "I can get this round if you want."

"No!" June said, probably too loudly and too quickly. She needed space from the group, to cool down the simmering attraction she felt every time she looked at him. It was clumsy, unprofessional, ludicrous. She ordered two lagers from the bartender, added them to her tab, and turned around to look at Kevin and Colin laughing together. Kevin pointed at June and Colin smiled at her, then laughed. June flushed, equal parts aroused, embarrassed, and confused. She took a deep breath, shrugged her shoulders, and then walked back to the table.

"So what keeps you teaching?" Colin asked, taking the beer from June and clinking the neck to hers.

“I don’t know,” June said, picking at the label of her beer. “Getting kids to find that book that unlocks their love of reading, or at least allows them to tolerate it, that’s what kept me going for the past ten years.” But it hasn’t been enough recently, June thought, but she pushed that thought down. She was having fun with Colin tonight and didn’t need to bring down the mood by admitting that she struggled to even read a book herself, let alone talk to kids about their interests in reading, especially when they had been replaced by Fortnite and Call of Duty.

“It’s like starting a fire,” Colin said, moving even closer to June. She felt the hairs on her arms stand up, like Colin was a balloon in an elementary school science lab on static electricity. Like every cell of her body was drawn to his presence, each giving tiny tugs towards Colin that would collectively pull June closer and closer.

“What do you mean?” June questioned.

“So you spark something tiny and hope it catches with the tinder, and then it grows and catches the finger wood, and then builds and builds little by little, and then you have yourself a lovely campfire.” Colin sipped his beer. “That’s how I approach this job. I’m just here to plant a spark - whether it be in the middle school kids during the year, campers during the summer, or our college kids who are counselors.”

“Sparks for what?” June was intrigued. Rarely had she encountered someone who instinctively understood why she was first drawn to education, to nurturing the interest and potential in a young kid. Sure, the vast majority of teachers had that skill, but outside of school walls? So often, kids were ignored, made fun of, neglected by the larger adult world.

“Anything I can accomplish,” Colin said, forcefully. “A love of nature, a respect for others, self-confidence.” June felt a lovely spark begin to catch fire in her stomach. She had already found Colin physically attractive, but now it was clear that she found him intellectually attractive as well. Factor in a few bottles of beer, and you had a dangerous combination.

“Honestly it’s like people forget they were kids once,” June said, absentmindedly. “Like so many parents are like, ‘My kid doesn’t talk to me’ and I ask them if they talked to their families at 12 and they’re shocked to remember they were also little assholes.”

June and Colin swapped stories of their finest moments as young teenagers - June sharing that she snuck out of her parents house to attend a midnight release of a Harry Potter book and Colin admitting that he got his ear pierced in a friend’s basement.

“No, I don’t believe it!” June said, laughing.

“Believe it,” Colin said. He reached out and took June’s hand and brought it to his ear. “See? You can still feel where the hole was?” June allowed her fingers to graze the smooth skin of his earlobe until she felt the small bump. There was something oddly intimate about the gesture and June met Colin’s eyes, her fingers still grasping his ear, and realized he felt it too.

“I’ll go grab another round,” June said, louder than she intended, dropping her hand from Colin’s ear like it had caught on fire. She nearly sprinted to the bar and probably shouted her order at the bartender. The evening was spinning out of control and June was scrambling at her last scraps of respectability. But there was something freeing about it, about letting down her guard and being truthful for the first time in what felt like forever.

As she walked back to the table, she tried not to stare at Colin, who was absentmindedly running his thumb over his lower lip while contemplating the fire. It didn't work. June hadn't realized that every other teacher had already left the bar and begun to amble down the mountain back to camp.

“Hi,” she said to him, shrugging her shoulders up to her ears and letting them fall with a sigh.

“How’re you doing tonight, June?” Colin replies, clinking his beer bottle against her own. She tried to ignore how a shiver ran down her spine when his name came out of her mouth.

“I fell like I’m relaxing for the first time in - when did schools shut down? Since March 2020.”

“Hmm, tell me more,” he said, and June got the sense he wasn’t just playing with her. The teasing smile had dropped from his lips and his eyes searched her face as she gathered her thoughts to speak.

“The past few years have felt like…well, like I’ve been holding my breath the entire time. Every time that something could get worse, it did. I mean, I don’t know what it was like up here, but in the city - not only did schools do a shit job of mitigating COVID, but there was this emotional weight that we - teachers - carried. I watched students get sick, students worry about their sick family members, watched co-workers get sick, and still had to show up and be the best person possible for these kids. These vulnerable, precious, annoying, damaged, and amazing young humans.” June swiped at a single tear that had gathered on her lower lid and hesitated to fall. “It’s just been so much, and the pandemic has been so lonely, and out here - well, this is the first time that it’s felt like a normal school year. I can argue with kids about keeping their cell phones instead of wearing masks properly. They can just laugh and play with each other, instead of being forced to deal with whatever admin has concocted to deal with learning loss. Which is an entirely bullshit social construct!” June’s eyes refocused and she looked up at Colin, his eyes intensely on her.

“Fuck, I am so sorry,” she laughed, wiping a hand over her face and taking a generous sip of her beer. “I’m sure you just wanted an evening away and here I am ranting about structural problems of education and crying.”

“You’re beautiful when you get worked up,” Colin said. “I mean, you’re pretty all the time, but there’s something about you right now that’s - wow.”

“Uh,” June said, having gone from full of speech to at a loss for words.

“Now it’s my turn to be sorry,” Colin said, scratching at his temple. “That was unprofessional, and I apologize. Seems we’re both figuring out lines and boundaries that are changing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” June said and waved a hand as if she could wave away that spark that she had felt between them since the first moment she walked into his office.

“Excellent,” Colin whispered, his eyes still not leaving her face. “Anyway, I did promise Kevin that I would - and I quote - make sure that you got home and did not attempt to drunkenly tame a mountain goat.”

“Hey!” June said. “They’re really impressive animals! There’s a reason they’re my favorite!”

“Your favorite animal is a mountain goat?” Colin said, incredulously.

“Yes! They are shaggy and cuddly looking and it is incredibly amazing the way that they can perch on, like, two centimeters of a rock face.”