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Daisy isn’t simple in the slightest, and easy? Not a fat fucking chance. It’s not a bad thing. Just different.

“He missed you too. Couldn’t stop telling us how proud he is of you,” I tell her.

I don’t have to be looking at her to know she’s smiling. “He’s a great brother.”

“Seems like it.”

“Alright . . . I think my classroom is just over here,” she directs, turning left down a forked hallway.

I follow behind her, every inch of this school and its white-painted walls bringing back memories that I thought were long forgotten.

Sneaking into the bathroom to kiss my first girlfriend during free period, stealing the quarterback’s stupid football he used to toss in class and throwing it at Poppy’s face when I saw him chasing after me.

School was here and gone so quick that sometimes it feels like it never actually happened. I don’t miss it, but sometimes I do regret not taking advantage of how easy life was back then.

“It’s here!” Daisy squeals, using the toe of her boot to push open the door. “I’m excited but also nervous. There are so many things that I worry about, but?—”

We step inside and freeze. Daisy’s shoulders slump immediately, her excitement squashed with the disaster in front of us.

Like it was rented out to a group of asshole college kids over the summer, the classroom is almost unrecognizable as a place for second graders. Every desk has been turned upside down and looks like they’ve been drawn on with thick, permanent markers. Chunks of gum are so big they stick out like sore thumbs on the corners of them, and the chairs have been scattered all over the place.

A whiteboard is stained with old writing from neon-coloured pens. The biggest desk at the front of the classroom has a bentleg, making it lean at the corner with a collection of pens and papers scattered on the floor from where they must have slid off.

I place the tub of supplies on the floor by the door and move through the room, anger beating like a second pulse beneath my skin.

While the blinds appear to be down, I tug at them and realize that one of the windows is open, the screen missing.

“The window’s open. My guess is a couple of kids broke in over the summer and no one noticed,” I grit out.

“Oh.” She hides the devastation I know I’ll find when I turn around with fake nonchalance. “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t wait any longer to come, then. Now, at least I’ll have time to clean this up before Monday.”

“You’re not cleaning this up,” I snap a bit too quickly. Turning to face her, I softly add, “The school should have been checking the rooms. This isn’t your mess to fix.”

“I don’t want to make a bad first impression. I’ll spend today cleaning and tomorrow unpacking and decorating. It’s fine.”

With a fake smile, she searches the room, throat straining. “I’m sorry you wasted your time coming to help me unpack. I’ll get someone to pick me up later once I’ve finished up. You can go.”

Yeah fucking right. The first thing I do is slam the window shut and make sure it’s locked up tight before pulling the blinds up. The view outside is of the school’s football field, but the lights are off during the summer, and unless they’ve added them over the past few years since I graduated, there are no cameras on this side of the building.

I feel Daisy’s eyes on me while I grip the closest upturned desk and flip it onto its thin legs. Working my way down the line, I do the same to four others before she speaks.

“You really don’t have to do this, Bryce. I wouldn’t even expect this of a real girlfriend, let alone a fake one.”

“Is that a joke?” I ask, not a lick of humour in my tone.

She keeps her lips flat and shakes her head.

“If my girlfriend didn’t offer to help me when I needed it, I’d kick her ass to the curb. I’m interested to hear what you think is something a partner should do for you if this doesn’t count,” I say.

She swallows loudly. “I’ve always felt guilty asking others to help with things that I know I can do myself.”

My eyelid twitches when the tip of my finger touches a gob of gum before I slap my hand down on my pants, rubbing the sensation away. “You’ll need to cut that shit out.”

“It’s not that easy, Frosty.”

Her laugh is a welcome sound. I relax slightly.

“We’ll work on it.”