Her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak. I thought for a moment that my computer froze, but then she blinked. “I do?”

God, these kids kill me.

That disbelief in her voice wasn’t thanks to Aaron and his teenage narcissism.

It was thanks to her mother.

Because when Everly had begun acting out and following along with her boyfriend’s demands, her mom hadn’t come at her from a place of understanding or even overprotectiveness. She’d instead called her a stupid slut for failing school over a boy.

That total bitch.

“Of course, you do,” I said, keeping my voice even and nonchalant. Honest. “If you want to keep it cazh—”

Another eye roll, but that one included a smile. “No one says cazh anymore.”

“The point is, not everyone needs labels or commitment to be happy. So if you want to keep things casual because you have lots of options and want to figure out what you’re looking for, that’s cool. If not, then you need to be with someone who wants what you want. Not what you’re forcing yourself to want. That’s not fair to either of you.”

Everly tilted her head. “I have options.”

She did. A lot. Including Marcus from her English class. But I wasn’t pushing.

After a long minute, she gave a firm nod. “Thanks, Mac. I’ve gotta run.”

“Email or text if you need anything, Ev.”

“Cool.”

The video call disconnected, and I sat back.

Cool.

It had been cool. Better than that, actually. My first week working from home had been a wild success.

Well, minus that Monday. After staying too long at the cookout, my redecorating plans fell behind schedule. I’d been fortunate that Alice’s aunt had left behind a beautiful wooden desk in the corner of the living room. Since that sucker was too heavy to move, I’d tried to set a nice background.

Tried.

There was only so much I could do when even the wallpaper was ugly as sin.

Every student I video-chatted with that first day had roasted me like a marshmallow over Ward’s fire pit.

I didn’t care. That kind of joking was how teenagers showed affection and acceptance. Like hazing.

I was pretty sure.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

That was what I told myself, at least.

After that first day—and a ton of cleaning—things had slowly begun to settle. The students seemed to prefer the virtual meetings. I got follow-up emails from students who’d ghosted me. At the request of one student, I’d created a messaging number so I could text without having to share my actual phone number. I’d expected to be inundated with inappropriate or prank messages, but I hadn’t.

Well, not yet.

Instead, it’d opened another avenue of communication that the kids felt more comfortable with.