Page 9 of Antagonist

“Okaaay, and what’s that got to do with anything?”

Charlie touches my forehead and grabs my hand, pretending to check my pulse. “Vitals seem okay, but there is reason for concern,” they say.

I chuckle. “What’s your diagnosis, Doctor?”

“It’s hard to say without further tests. When was the last time you had sex?” they ask.

I choke. “Charlie, we’re fifteen yards away from the school gates. If the Pearl-Clutching Brigade hears you, they’ll bring back that priest who used to hang around lecturing people about impure thoughts.”

There’s a collective shudder.

“You still haven’t answered the question,” Theo says, running a hand over his short hair before pushing up his glasses.

“And I’m not going to. Tell me about this new dad you’re all hot for.”

Melodie raises her hands and leans closer. “I don’t know what his name is, but I’m sure if you look it up, it’s right alongside the definition of tall, dark, handsome, and rugged in a clean kind of way.”

“That’s the weirdest description of someone I’ve ever heard.” As I say the words, I know there’s at least one person who fits that description. The same person I’ve found myself thinking about randomly over the last few months.

“You’ll know what I mean when you see him,” Melodie says.

“How come I haven’t seen him around?” I ask.

“I think he’s just moved here. His first time was yesterday.”

That makes sense since I had a meeting with a gallery curator, so Charlie picked up George when they came to get their daughter.

“Hey, anyone heard anything about the Spring Fair?” Ray asks.

“No, although I’m sure Mrs. I’m The Mayor’s Daughter-in-Law will have something to say about it,” Charlie says, craning their neck as if they have a stick up their butt. Which is an accurate representation of the mayor’s daughter-in-law, who not only leads the Pearl-Clutching Brigade but is also a grade-A homophobic bitch.

“Maybe we should volunteer this year,” I suggest. “We can put together a fun event the kids will enjoy.”

“Are you insane?” Scarlet says, her voice pitching up before she catches herself. She glances around, looking relieved there are no additional ears close by. “If we go for it, they’ll say no to everything we want to do. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have the kind of energy needed to go up against them.”

I consider what she’s saying. She’s not wrong, but the thought of having to be part of yet another boring school event makes my stomach sink.

These kids should have some fun. Run around, scream, learn who they are. Not robots meant to sit with their backs straight while watching some ridiculous lecture about stuff they’re not interested in.

The Spring Fair is for them, not for the adults who want to score society points with their club friends.

The school bell rings, cutting our conversation short. Moments later, the usual stampede of kids comes out of the school’s big double doors.

The sight always makes me smile because I remember the days when I was one of those kids, running out so I could get home as quickly as possible to play with my paints.

“There he is,” Melodie says in a less than hushed tone.

“Who?”

I look at where she’s not-so-discreetly pointing, and my whole world stops.

There, only a few yards away from me, with his eyes firmly on the crowd of kids as he scans for his own, is Harrison. The man I thought I’d never see again.

He crouches as a little girl about George’s age approaches him. She has a wide smile and long dark hair the same color as Harrison’s.

As he gives her a hug, I notice he’s dressed more casually than the last time I saw him. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that are sinfully snug around his butt and thick thighs and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

“Close your mouth. You’re drooling,” Ray says.