Lucas
Lucas didn’t recognize the number on his phone at first. He almost didn’t answer. Spam calls were the last thing he needed. Well, not as bad as debt collectors would be, but he still had no patience for them. Something nudged him to take a chance, though, and he accepted the call.
“Hello?”
“Lucas Vaughn?” a woman’s voice chirped through the line, bright and friendly. “I’m calling from Willowbrook Community College’s continuing education department.”
Lucas blinked and sat up straighter on his ratty loveseat, pushing his mostly empty plate of leftovers onto the coffee table. “Yes, that’s me.”
“We’re looking for a fill-in photography instructor for our adult evening classes. You applied a few months back.”
Lucas’s heart jumped into his throat. For once, the call wasn’t bad news. Instead, it was a bright, shiny chance to keep his new life. “Yes, I remember. I’m still available and eager for the opportunity.”
“Great! We’d love to have you come in this week to meet the lead instructor and go over the schedule.”
He fought the urge to cheer and bounce on the couch. “Absolutely.”
“How about tomorrow at ten? Come to the main office building and give your name at the front desk. Thank you so much, Mr. Vaughn.”
Lucas agreed with what he hoped was a professional and not a wildly excited tone, ended the call, and immediately buried his face in his hands. He’d applied a while ago, thinking his efforts would be ignored like with so many other opportunities he tried for since moving. Teaching wasn’t exactly where he pictured his career going, but four evenings a week meant steady income. It meant less reliance on luck and last-minute gigs, and less fear that every phone call would lead to more stress.
After managing a few hours of sleep, Lucas got up, showered, added a big scoop of cocoa to his coffee, and threw on his nicest jeans and a button-up shirt. He even took time to brush stray dog hair off his coat. He double-checked the directions to the campus three times before driving out of town to the small community college that offered a variety of non-credit adult evening and weekend classes.
The continuing education building wasn’t much to look at. It was a boring brick rectangle with industrial doors out front. Inside, he gave his name to the man at the front desk, who pointed him toward the art and photography classroom. Lucas hurried past flyer-filled bulletin boards, wondering if heshould’ve worn khakis and his best shoes instead. He pulled his beanie off and shoved it in his coat pocket before smoothing his ponytail one last time.
The door to room 204 stood open. Inside, a woman in her mid-fifties sat cross-legged on a desk, sipping from a travel mug covered in unicorn stickers. She had silver-streaked hair pulled into a messy bun, half a dozen colorful beaded necklaces around her neck, and a pair of neon green Converse on her feet.
She looked up and grinned. “You must be Lucas. I’m Brandy Carter. Welcome to the circus. I hear you’re going to be helping me out for a while.”
Lucas cracked a smile and breathed out most of the tension that had filled him since the phone call. Brandy looked like someone he’d get along with. She looked like everything he wanted to be but wasn’t feeling lately: confident, grounded, and purely herself. “Thanks.”
Brandy hopped down and shook his hand firmly. “I looked through your portfolio. Good eye. You know how to catch a story in a single frame, and that’s what we want to teach these folks. Most of them have no interest in becoming artists, but we do what we can.”
She ran him through the class schedule. The college offered two beginner classes and two intermediate ones every week. In the summer, they held a Saturday morning ‘Photography in the Wild’ class that sounded more like fun than work, but it shut down in the colder months. It sounded like something he’d love if he got to stay around that long.
“You’re gonna love it,” she said, shoving a printed syllabus into his hand. “Our students are here because they want to be. Most of them have no desire to make great art or become journalists or anything. They’re just people who are genuinely excited to learn how to take better pictures of their dogs orvacations or families.” She shot him a pointed look and a smirk. “Most of them.”
“That sounds great,” Lucas said honestly. “I’m happy to support a few dreamers, even if their skills don’t yet match their fantasies.”
Brandy barked out a sharp “Ha!” and smacked him on the arm. “You’ll do great. And don’t be afraid to go off-script a little. The curriculum’s more guidelines than gospel. This isn’t a for-credit class, so we can pretty much do what we want as long as the students don’t regret paying for it.”
Fifteen minutes later, Lucas left the building with the schedule folded in his coat pocket, feeling something he hadn’t felt in months: Hope.
***
A few nights later, Lucas strolled down the park trail as snowflakes floated down and dusted the pavement with sparkles. Ryder walked beside him, holding tight to the leash that let Ritz explore the snow, bushes, and light posts. The dog’s tail wagged so hard it seemed to propel him forward and drag them along with him. Their boots thudded on the path as they strolled from one circle of light to the next.
When Ryder texted him an invitation for a late evening walk, Lucas hadn’t hesitated. Maybe he should’ve hesitated. He didn’t have a good track record with friends or relationships, but he couldn’t resist the burly blond, no matter what he wanted from Lucas.
Apparently, all he wanted that night was a walk and companionable silence. Ryder hadn’t made any moves, not one single flirtatious gesture, but Lucas’s gaydar pinged, anyway. There were some curious glances from those deep blue eyes that wouldn’t come from a straight man. Lucas didn’t know ifthe man was unavailable, shy, or just not interested, but he still texted and suggested a stroll with Ritz after work.
“So,” Lucas said at last, nudging Ryder’s arm. “You’re a full-time hero by day and a calendar model on your off hours. What else should I know about you?”
Ryder chuckled, a deep rumble that made Lucas’s insides heat up. “Not a hero. Not a model.” He shrugged and continued after pulling Ritz out of a clump of laurels. “I have a sister, Brooke, who lives back in my hometown, and my niece, Emma. They’re an hour or so north. My parents retired down in Florida, but we don’t talk much.” His lips twisted, making his mustache wiggle. “They’re um… conservative.”
“Ah, yeah.” Lucas sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “My whole family is a bit like that. Not hateful, but…” He let the explanation trail off. He didn’t want to ruin the evening with heavy shit. “Tell me about your sister and niece. How old is she?”
“Emma? She’s eight and smart as hell. I try to get up there once a month or so, but it’s tough with my shifts and all.”
