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ELLIOTT

W ednesday morning, the GSA meeting room at Havenwood High was alive with energy, even in the soft drizzle of late spring. Pride flags and student artwork decorated the space, an explosion of color and creativity that felt both defiant and welcoming. Inspirational quotes, many from queer figures throughout history, lined the walls, and in the center of it all, Maya perched on the edge of her chair like she might combust from excitement.

“We need someone big for the Pride Month event in June,” Maya declared, gesturing with her hands as though she were already directing a stage production. “Someone who’s not just going to give a boring speech, but someone who can actually get people fired up!”

Jayden, seated next to her, adjusted his glasses and nodded thoughtfully. “What about Jules Moreno?” he asked.

His tone was calm, but there was a glimmer of excitement behind his measured words. “He’s kind of a big deal. I mean, his social media has tons of followers, and he’s done activism work all over the place, protests, marches, even a queer youth theatre program in Chicago.”

Maya’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Jules is perfect! And he’s back in town now! We saw him at the bookstore last week, and he’s got this energy, you know? Like, he walks in, and everyone just notices him.”

Jayden smirked. “Didn’t Mr. Brooks meet him? At Bright Horizons?”

I froze mid-note, my hand hovering over the whiteboard as Jayden’s comment hit me squarely. The students’ voices buzzed around me, their energy crackling like static electricity. My gaze flickered to Jayden and Maya, both practically glowing with excitement.

My mind raced. Jules Moreno. His name had carried an unexpected weight in the room, almost like a spark igniting a fuse. I hadn’t mentioned my brief encounter with Jules at the bookstore to anyone, least of all my students.

But now that I thought about it, I had seen a few of them at Bright Horizons that day, as I left the store. They must have caught the exchange.

Still, why were they so worked up about it? Students loved any glimpse into their teachers’ personal lives, tiny revelations that reminded them we were human, but this felt different. There was a buzz to their enthusiasm, as if Jules wasn’t just a person but an event. Like he was some kind of local celebrity I hadn’t realized I’d met.

Maya’s eyes practically danced as she leaned forward in her chair, while Jayden’s usually calm demeanor betrayed a flicker of amusement, like he knew something I didn’t.

What was it about Jules that had them so captivated? And why did it feel like I was walking into a conversation where everyone else already knew the ending?

Maya leaned forward, her face breaking into a mischievous grin. “Oh yeah! You totally met him, right?”

I straightened, adjusting my glasses in a futile attempt to buy time. “I… might have met him briefly,” I admitted.

“Perfect!” Maya exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Then you have to ask him!”

Jayden, ever the quiet voice of reason, added, “I got his number at the bookstore last week and asked if he’d be okay with me passing it on. He seemed cool with it.” He slid a small piece of paper across the table.

I hesitated, the weight of the moment settling on me. Jules Moreno wasn’t just a name; he was a presence. The kind of person who seemed to carry the room with him wherever he went.

But Maya’s hopeful expression, paired with Jayden’s quiet nod of encouragement, left me little choice. “Alright,” I said finally, tucking the paper into my pocket. “I’ll reach out.”

The students cheered, their excitement spilling into the room. I gave them a small, polite smile, but inside, my nerves were already building.

The students’ excitement buzzed like electricity. Their enthusiasm was contagious, filling the space with energy that felt almost tangible. My gaze lingered on the event flyer pinned neatly to the board: Pride Month: Stories That Change U s. The words seemed to pulse with their own importance, a reminder of just how significant this event could be.

As the students launched into a flurry of suggestions, streamers, music playlists, guest introductions, I found myself scribbling furiously on the whiteboard, breaking down tasks, timelines, and backup plans with a level of detail that even I recognized was excessive. My notes sprawled across the board in perfect rows, each bullet point meticulously underlined. My mind raced ahead, mapping every possible contingency as if I were planning a historical reenactment rather than a Pride Month speaker.

“Okay,” I said, tapping the marker against the board. “If Jules agrees to come, we’ll need to finalize reserving the library, the seating arrangement, test the sound system, and…” I stopped mid-sentence, realizing I’d written Jules Moreno in block letters at the top of the board, underlined twice. My ears burned, though I wasn’t sure why.

“Mr. Brooks,” Maya interrupted, her grin both amused and concerned. “You’re seriously overthinking this.”

Jayden nodded; his expression calm but pointed. “It’s Jules, Mr. Brooks. He’s not going to need, like, a red carpet. He’ll just show up and be awesome.”

I turned to face them, the marker still in my hand. “I’m just trying to make sure everything’s ready,” I said, a bit more defensively than I intended. “He deserves to feel welcomed, especially if he’s taking time out of his schedule to do this.”

The students exchanged a look that I couldn’t quite decipher, somewhere between amusement and sympathy. Maya leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “We get it. You want everything to be perfect. But you don’t have to try so hard. Jules is cool. Like, really cool. He’ll probably be happy just being here.”

I pressed the marker against the board harder than necessary, the squeak of it grating. They were right. I was overthinking. I’d been spiraling into logistics since the suggestion came up, and deep down, I knew it wasn’t just about the event. There was something about Jules, something about his energy at the bookstore, his easy smile, the way he’d mentioned James Baldwin like he was a mutual friend, that had me tying myself into knots.

The thought crossed my mind before I could stop it: Jules was attractive. And not just in a physical sense, though his effortless charisma had made him impossible to ignore. It was more than that, something about his presence had lingered with me, a kind of magnetism I didn’t entirely understand. I shook the thought away, focusing back on the students, who were now eyeing me with barely concealed amusement.

Maya tilted her head, her grin widening. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“Nervous?” I repeated, too quickly. “Of course not. Why would I be nervous?”

Jayden raised an eyebrow, his tone measured. “Because he’s kind of a big deal. Everyone in town is talking about how Jules Moreno is back. He’s got that whole social media thing, the activism stuff, oh, and he’s super talented. People love him.”

“Plus, he’s, like, stupidly charming,” Maya added with a smirk. “But, you know, no pressure.”

I let out a small sigh, leaning against the desk and trying to regain my composure. “It’s not about me,” I said, more to myself than to them. “This is for all of you.”

“Right,” Maya said, her grin softening. “But it’s okay if you’re a little freaked out. Jules is cool, but so are you. And you’re good at this stuff, Mr. Brooks. We’ll figure it out.”

Jayden nodded. “Just don’t overthink it. He’ll probably appreciate whatever you plan.”

Their reassurance settled something in me, though the nerves didn’t completely fade. I glanced back at the whiteboard, at Jules’ name standing out amid the flurry of notes.

The meeting wrapped up with their usual buzz of excitement, but as I erased the board and capped the marker, I couldn’t shake the weight of my hesitation. The thought of calling Jules felt monumental in a way I couldn’t quite explain. He’d seemed perfectly nice at the bookstore, welcoming, even. So why did the idea of reaching out tie my stomach into knots?

As the students filtered out, Maya called over her shoulder, “Just breathe, Mr. Brooks. It’s going to be fine.”

I nodded, offering her a faint smile. Breathe, I thought to myself. It’s just a phone call. What’s the worst that could happen?

But the knot in my chest remained as I packed up for the day, their voices echoing in my mind. “He’ll light up the room no matter what.”

The steady ticking of the clock on my office wall seemed louder than usual that afternoon, a metronome to my restless thoughts. I sat at my desk, staring at the small slip of paper with Jules Moreno’s number scribbled in a bold, flowing hand. My desk, as always, was an orderly reflection of me, stacks of graded essays on one side, a row of pens lined up in perfect symmetry, and a steaming mug of chamomile tea on the other. But today, the anticipation coiled in my chest made the usually familiar space feel foreign, almost claustrophobic.

I couldn’t help but admit that Jules had been on my mind more than I was comfortable acknowledging. His unruly, slightly shaggy hair had caught my attention right away, the streaks of vibrant color woven through it making him look like he belonged to another world entirely, one far more alive than my carefully ordered one. His expressive dark eyes, warm and lively, had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room when he focused on you. And his hands, lean and capable, with faint smudges of ink or paint along their fingertips, spoke of someone who was constantly creating, constantly moving. Jules wasn’t the type of person I’d typically find myself drawn to, too unpredictable, too bold, but those traits only made it harder to stop thinking about him. His confidence wasn’t just magnetic; it was impossible to ignore, and I found myself wondering if I could ever match that kind of energy.

I picked up the phone, then set it down again, my hand hovering as if the weight of the decision was too much. It wasn’t like me to hesitate over something as simple as a phone call. But this wasn’t just a phone call, it was a bridge to someone who exudes charisma and creativity, traits that had lingered in my mind since our brief meeting at bright Horizons. I took a deep breath, picked up the phone again, and finally dialed, the sound ringing on the other end both too fast and agonizingly slow.

“Hello?” The voice that answered was warm, curious, and unmistakably Jules.

“Hi, is this Jules Moreno?” I asked, sitting up straighter, as if he could see me through the phone.

“That depends,” he replied, his tone playful but tinged with caution. “Who’s asking?”

“It’s Elliot Brooks,” I said, clearing my throat as if that would smooth over my nerves. “We met briefly at Bright Horizons. I, uh, mentioned Baldwin.”

“Oh!” His voice brightened instantly, as if a light had been switched on. “History Teacher! Got it. What’s up?”

His enthusiasm caught me slightly off guard, but I pressed on. “I’m the faculty advisor for the Gay-Straight Alliance at Havenwood High,” I began, trying to keep my tone steady. “We’re organizing a Pride Month event, and the students suggested inviting you as a guest speaker. They, uh, seem to think quite highly of you.”

“Well, they sound like smart kids,” Jules said, their voice laced with humor. “What’s the event?”

Encouraged by their interest, I explained the details. But as I spoke, I realized my words were coming out more formally than I intended, stiff and rehearsed, as if I were presenting a thesis rather than extending an invitation. I wondered if Jules could sense the nerves in my voice.

“Sounds amazing,” he said without hesitation, their reply as effortless as their demeanor. “I’d love to.”

I blinked, the ease of their agreement catching me off guard. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said warmly, and I could almost hear the smile in his voice. “It sounds like a great way to connect. And I’m all about hyping up the next generation of queer leaders.”

His enthusiasm was so genuine, so confident, that I found myself momentarily speechless. I cleared my throat again, finally managing, “The students will be thrilled.”

“Good,” Jules said, his voice softening, carrying a warmth that felt almost personal. “And you, Teach? Are you excited?”

The question caught me by surprise, a small but pointed shift in the conversation. I hesitated, not sure how to answer. “I… think it’s a wonderful opportunity for them,” I said carefully, my voice quieter.

“Alright,” he said, his tone turning lighter again, like he was letting me off the hook. “Just send me the details. I’m in.”

We scheduled a time for him to come meet the group at one of our afterschool meetings. The call ended with an easy, “Talk soon,” from Jules, but his presence lingered in the room long after the line went dead. I leaned back in my chair, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The tension in my chest began to ease, replaced by a strange mixture of relief and curiosity. Jules’ confidence, his immediate willingness to say yes, stood in stark contrast to my own hesitations.

I glanced at the flyer for the event, now tacked to the corner of my desk. Pride Month: Stories That Change Us . For the first time all day, a small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

My phone buzzed on the desk, pulling me from my thoughts. Caleb’s name lit up the screen, and a grin spread across my face as I opened the message.

Caleb: Hey Dad! Just saw the new Deadpool movie with Mom. Have you seen it yet? It’s hilarious. Also… very inappropriate lol.

I chuckled softly, typing back a quick response.

Elliott: Not yet, but it’s on my list. I’m sure it’s complete inappropriate if you loved it. I’ll let you know when I watch it, and we can compare notes.

Caleb’s reply came almost instantly.

Caleb: Deal! Miss you, Dad.

My heart squeezed in that familiar way, and I typed back,

Elliott: Miss you too, buddy. Love you.

A warm sense of anticipation settled over me, Spring Break was just a few weeks away, and I’d finally get to see him again.

I set my phone down, but my thoughts didn’t settle as easily. My mind drifted back to Jules, his laughter, his energy, the effortless way he had agreed to the invitation. I wasn’t used to people like him, people who jumped in without hesitation. And yet, there was something about it that felt oddly… refreshing.