Coda 01 - Promises

rest of the kids were coming over now and shaking my hand or hugging me or pounding me on the back.
    “What’s this about?” I asked as I tried to pry one of the girls off of me.

    “We just heard you’re going to be our teacher next semester!” Ringo said, and then they all started talking at once.
    “It will be so great—”
“You’re the best—”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
    “Wait!” Of course, Matt’s odd behavior made sense now. Talk about throwing me to the wolves. I had to wait a second for all the commotion to die down before saying, “I haven’t actually accepted the offer yet.”
    “But you will, right?”
    “We’ll see.” They all started to talk again at once. “Stop! Whether I take the job or not, you guys still have finals to study for, so get back to work.”
    I found Matt in the kitchen. He was staring at the floor, cheeks red, looking incredibly guilty. He kept his head down but glanced up at me.
    “Are you mad?”
“I should be.”
“But are you?”
    I thought about it and realized that I wasn’t at all. What I felt was actually more like relief. At some point over the last week, I had made the decision to trust his judgment, and I felt good about it. The nagging anxiety which had been eating away at me ever since that fateful meeting earlier in the month had faded to nothing more than a few frantic butterflies in my stomach. Mom’s advice about deciding how to live seemed to magically make a little more sense. And the reaction of the students— my students—had decided it for me.
    “I’ll call tomorrow and accept the job.” That made him smile. “You really are a manipulative bastard. I’ve told you that before, right?”

    He grabbed my shirt and pulled me over to him. “Just say it one more time.”
    “You’re a manipulative bastard.”
“Not that . You know what you’re supposed to say.” “You were right.”
He laughed. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”
    A FEW days later, Cole called.

    “Hey, Sweets!” he said in his lilting, flirtatious voice. “I’m back in Vail. Want some company tonight?”

    “Sorry, Cole. I can’t.” Matt was on the couch reading, and his head jerked up when I said that name.

    “You can’t tonight , or you can’t because of a certain tall, dark, very angry-looking police officer?”
    “The latter.”
“Closet door wasn’t locked after all?”
    “I guess I found the key.” Matt looked confused when I said that, and I smiled at him.
    Cole was quiet for just a second, and then he said. “I’m glad, Jared.” It wasn’t his usual flamboyant voice. It was his real voice, soft and quiet. “I’m really happy for you.”

“I GOT the beer!” Matt called as he came in the door.
    “It’s about time! You missed kick-off.” It was Sunday, eight days before Christmas. We had been looking forward to this day for weeks, when our two favorite teams would be playing each other again.
    “Anybody score yet?”

    “No, but it’s only a matter of time before the Broncos pound your pansyass Chiefs into the ground.”

    He laughed. “We’ll see, Jarhead! Loser buys dinner.”
    It was a close game. We had a blast, harassing each other as first one team took the lead and then the other. With two seconds left, the Broncos were up by one point. The Chiefs were lining up for a field goal. If they missed it, I won. If they made it, he did. It’s the folly of sports fans everywhere that we think we can affect the game from our living room. I was yelling, “Miss it! Miss it!” Matt had a white knuckle grip on the coffee table in front of him.
    The kick was good. I groaned. Matt let out a victorious whoop and turned and pounced on me from the other end of the couch. It was embarrassing how quickly he could pin me. He grabbed my face and kissed me. Not a romantic kiss, but a big, loud, triumphant smack on my lips, and then pulled back to look at me with a huge smile on his face.
    “So what are you buying me for dinner?”
“A Lean Cuisine! You’re heavy!”
    The phone rang, and I reached over my head to grab it off the side table behind me.
    “Hello?” He hadn’t moved off of me but had moved down. He had my shirt pulled up and was trying to distract me by kissing his way down my stomach.
    “Matt?” a woman’s voice asked.
“No, this is Jared.”
    “Jared? Do I have the wrong number? I’m trying to reach Matt Richards. He told me this was his new number.”
    He was pushing my sweats lower, and his