Chapter Text
The best part of a relationship is the very beginning—before you’ve even met, when you’re still single.
I know that probably sounds a bit pessimistic, but honestly? It’s just what I’ve learned. I was a sappy bastard all through my teens and twenties but I soon learned that things just don't work out. I’ve had enough crap relationships to know that trusting people—any people, any gender—is risky. They let you down. They say things they don’t mean, or they mean things they’re too scared to say out loud. They disappear.
So yeah, being single? It’s the way forward. People ask me all the time, “So why aren’t you married, Nick?” And my reply is always, “I guess I’m just lucky.” And I am. I don’t have to compromise on my space, I don’t have to be subjected to Love Island, or the headfuck of wondering where it all went wrong. Wondering what I did, or said, or didn’t say. I never have to message anyone to tell them what time I’ll be in, and if I want to eat a fucking Pot Noodle for dinner, I can. And I do. Chicken and Mushroom is my favourite, if you were wondering.
My life is pretty great. No drama. I play rugby on weekends, see my friends, take my mum’s dog Henry on walks and watch Marvel movies on my big comfy sofa. I sometimes bring someone home after a night out—nothing serious, just a bit of fun. No strings, no awkward mornings. Keep it light. Keep it simple. Life is easy. It’s comfortable. Why would I want some one who could strike a match and set the whole thing on fire?
I get enough kicks from my job. I teach in alternative provision, which I love. It’s a place for kids who struggle with mainstream school for one reason or another. The kids are chaotic and unpredictable, and I truly love it. Being neurodivergent makes them unique- and that uniqueness - their super power - is what makes every day so rewarding. Every day is completely different. There are only 4 of them, but if they are all having an off day at the same time, then, good god, it’s like having a class of 60. Darcy, my TA and I, are just thrilled if we manage to make it to the end of the school day with no tears, meltdowns or broken furniture.
We are lucky to be situated in a park, a unit surrounded by lots of grass and trees for them to climb. The green space is perfect for when they need a brain break, or just a safe space to regulate. They do whatever work they can manage that day, then we get creative/active in the afternoons. They love acting out plays, getting stuck into the mud kitchen and playing on the equipment in the park. Sometimes we build a fire on the fire pit and make smores - that’s secretly my favourite activity. On Thursday afternoons we go canoeing on the local canal. Paddling in the sunshine is really good for all of our mental health, except when they purposely splash each other or twat each other with the paddles that is.
I get into work early. I always do. Not because I’m particularly organised, just because I like the quiet —the calm before the storm. Twenty minutes of stillness before the noise begins. Before someone hurls a shoe across the room or has a meltdown because Mum has packed the wrong-sized grapes.
Darcy arrives five minutes later clutching a Tupperware container and looking like they’re already regretting their life choices.
“Morning,” they mutter.
“Morning Darce! All ready for today?”
“I’m never ready,” they groan.
I chuckle.
Henry (yes, my Mum’s Henry, he’s trained as a therapy dog) sits beside me, tail wagging, already sniffing for the biscuit tin I keep in the drawer. I get the worksheets ready, make us a cup of tea, and sit on the picnic bench to enjoy the peace, while Darcy’s busy unlocking all the window shutters. The birds are singing and the sun is shining. The peace and quiet doesn’t last long...
Ismail arrives like a Y2 hurricane in the latest trainers, launching himself out of his mum’s car mid-argument about screen time. He barrels past me with a dramatic groan and shouts, “Nick! Let’s play football now. Come on!”
The others trickle in after that. Jayden’s frowning as he strokes his pet rock because his t-shirt feels weird, Piper, who today is dressed head to toe in pink sequins, including a sparkly cowgirl hat, is humming APT and Emily, who has just started with us, scowls ‘I don’t want to be here’, and walks off to climb the nearest tree.
“Okay. It’s okay to feel like that,” Darcy says. They nod at me and wander over towards the tree. They’re amazing at their job, so I know Emily will be safe and eventually come down.
Maths lasts about twelve minutes before Jayden announces that he isn’t doing anymore because ‘maths is numbers and this has words in it.’ He then proceeds to rip his worksheet in half and pop it in his mouth.
“Jayden please don’t do that,” I say in my calmest voice. I try not to smile.
Jayden starts chewing with a smirk.
“Please don’t swallow it, it won’t be good for your tummy.”
He looks me dead in the eye and gives a massive gulp. Emily giggles. For fuck’s sake.
Ismail is drawing a velociraptor with sunglasses. Darcy asks him what it has to do with the maths they’ve been set. He tells her, very seriously, “The raptor’s doing maths in his head.” Fair enough.
Piper actually finishes hers, and it’s all correct.
“Piper, you are totally smashing it today! Well done, what a super star.” I give her high-five.
She smiles briefly. I take the small win. Emily has done half of it. Again, I take the wins where I can get them.
We head out to the park for a brain break mid-morning. Henry leads the charge. He loves being with the kids as much as I do - he knows it means fresh air and plenty of dropped bits of snacks. The kids climb, spin and scream. I sit down for a second and Darcy collapses next to me.
“Not a bad morni-”
“Niiiiiick! Ismail called me a loser,” shouts Piper. She then starts chasing him brandishing a stick.
“Remind me again why we don’t drink on school days?” I say to Darcy as I get up to separate them.
“I genuinely don’t know,” they sigh.
Back in the unit once break is over, we attempt English. All four kids hate English so I am always looking for ways to make it ‘interesting’. Today we are trying to complete a comprehension on ‘How to make a bird feeder’ while making one at the same time. I come to regret this decision instantly as Ismail immediately throws his pencil down and declares he’s not doing it because there's ‘too much writing’ and there is birdseed literally EVERYWHERE. He starts banging his hands on the table so I quickly find a fidget toy and hand it to him.
“You know life would be better if we could just not write,” Jayden says. “Writing is pointless.”
“But you might need to write when you get a job,” I explain gently.
“Nah. I’m gonna be a stuntman,” Jayden says, kicking his feet against the table leg. “They don’t need to write. They just jump off stuff.”
I try to withhold a smile again. The little fuckers have an answer for everything. I know Jayden loves history so I try to use that to my advantage.
“But even the Egyptians thought writing was important. They wrote hieroglyphics on their tombs.”
“Yeah but that's just pictures. That’s art, not English.” He says, as he leans back in his chair with a smug little grin that tells me he thinks this conversation is over.
Darcy smirks from across the room.
Jayden beams at her, victorious, while Ismail now appears to be pouring birdseed into his pencil case like it’s a lunchbox. I make a mental note to confiscate that in five minutes, once I’ve convinced someone—anyone—to finish the bloody comprehension sheet.
I turn back to Jayden. “Right. Well, even if hieroglyphics are technically art, they still tell a story. That’s what writing is. Telling your story.”
He rolls his eyes. “My story is: I don’t wanna write.”
“And yet,” I say, sliding the sheet back in front of him, “here we are. Two more questions, and we’ll get the water pistols out this afternoon.”
He side-eyes me, sighs and picks up his pencil like it weighs a thousand tonnes. “Fine. But just so you know, if I get famous for being a stuntman, I’m telling everyone you forced me to write about bird feeders.”
“That’s fine,” I say. “As long as you spell my name right.”
Darcy and I smile at each other. Piper is half heartedly answering the questions and Emily asks what some of the words say. And just like that, we’re back in business.
My phone beeps with a text from the Headteacher.
Maggie : Sorry Nick, forgot to mention, there’s a new canoe instructor starting tomorrow. They’ll be leading your session.
Me: What happened to Tom?
Maggie: He’s gone to France for the summer.
“Do you think the new guy will last longer than Tom?” Darcy asks when I relay the information.
“Depends how waterproof his nerves are.”
The kids do tend to mess around more with the canoe instructor. Over time, Darcy and I have built up relationships with them, so they do follow our instructions… mostly. But they definitely take advantage of the canoe instructors. Of which there have been many.
For lunch, Darcy microwaves their leftover pasta and immediately regrets it when Piper declares it “smells like feet,” dramatically covering her nose with her hand. She makes bawking noises and goes outside. Emily’s watching skateboarding videos, Jayden tells me in detail about what the Romans ate for lunch, and Ismail drops an entire fruit salad on the floor and says, deadpan, “It was slippery.”
After lunch we build a den. Well, we don’t. The kids do, while I mostly supervise and check they aren’t killing each other.
Piper’s in charge, obviously. She’s got that terrifying mix of natural leadership and chaos energy that means everyone just listens to her without question. She’s taken her cowgirl hat off to show she means business. Within five minutes she’s got Jayden dragging branches into a pile, Ismail unrolling the tarp, and Emily making signs.
“This is the security entrance,” Piper says, pointing to a small gap between two bushes. “You need a password to get in.”
“What’s the password?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes. “You have to guess.”
“Is it ‘smells like feet’?”
She grins. “Close. It’s ‘You stink.”
Jayden immediately tries to change it to “Ave, Caesar,” and starts lecturing Ismail about Roman military forts. Ismail nods, pretending to listen, while quietly tying the end of a blanket to my ankle.
“Ismail,” I say calmly, “are you trying to make me part of the structure?”
He grins. “You’re the door now.”
Darcy appears. “How’s the construction going?”
“I’ve been demoted to furniture.”
They work on the den for nearly an hour, miraculously, without any major arguments, minor injuries, or attempts to weaponise sticks. It’s probably the most harmonious they’ve been for a while. At one point, Henry crawls inside and immediately falls asleep on the only cushion. That seals it. The den is declared finished. A sacred space.
Jayden flops beside me on the grass, cheeks pink from the effort.
“Why don’t you take your hoodie off Jayden. You look hot.” I suggest. He thinks about it, realises he is hot and lays his hoodie on the grass.
“This,” he says, “is way better than writing.”
I smile. “You guys have really worked well as a team this afternoon. Well done.”
“Did you know Roman soldiers used to clean their bums with a sponge on a stick? And they shared it. Like, passed it around. Communal bum sponge.”
“I didn’t. Ewwwww. Great fact. ”
“I like when you listen to my facts Nick. Can I tell you some more?”
“Go ahead,” I nod.
He proceeds to tell me all about life in Ancient Greece. That kid is insanely knowledgeable. I have to admit, I don’t know any of these facts—every day is a school day.
The sun’s still out. The chaos is momentarily still. Jayden is still rambling about Ancient Greece as Piper climbs up onto my knee because she needs a hug. She usually does that when she’s overstimulated and needs to feel calm. I hold her gently, just how she likes as we listen to birds, the gentle breeze and Jayden’s monotonous facts. It’s hometime in ten minutes and I’m thrilled we’ve had a good day.
Just then I hear a scream from inside the den. “Niiiiiiiiiiick, Ismail just pushed me off the seat. I’m gonna kill him.”
I take a deep breath.
*********
Thursday morning has been a success so far. No meltdowns, no fights. Piper tries to plait my hair while we all eat lunch, and then it’s time to get ready for canoeing. We make sure they’ve all been to the toilet and applied sunscreen and then we herd them together like sheepdogs and head off down the path from the unit to the canal.
It’s a nice walk, if you ignore the screeching. The sun’s out, birds are singing, and Piper, dressed in a huge princess dress, is leading a group singalong of Let It Go—which Jayden joins in, totally out of tune. Henry trots ahead, tail up, entirely unbothered.
Soon enough we arrive outside the canoe centre. I’m halfway through explaining that there is a new canoe instructor today when I hear a smooth voice from the door.
“Hi. You must be Nick.”
Confident. Calm. Unfairly calm in fact for someone voluntarily choosing to work with boisterous unpredictable children near open water.
I look up to the door.
A guy is standing by the rail of buoyancy aids, one hand resting on his own, the other shielding his eyes from the sun. Tanned skin that can’t be from the English summer, wind-ruffled curls, strong jaw, and a grin that’s too cheeky for my peace of mind.
He steps towards me. “Charlie,” he says, offering a hand.
“Hi.” I take his hand—firm grip, cold hands.
“I’ve heard good things.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That so?”
Charlie grins wider. “Well, Maggie said you were good fun.”
I don’t blush. I absolutely do not blush. And I definitely don’t notice the really cute little dimple that has appeared on his cheek either.
Darcy appears beside me like they’ve been summoned by awkward tension. They raise an eyebrow at me, clocking Charlie immediately. Then Henry barks—loud, sharp—and the moment breaks.
“Right,” I say, clearing my throat. “Let’s get the kids’ buoyancy aids on.”
He lowers the hand that’s been shielding his eyes from the sun, and they are ridiculous. Like, offensively blue. Stupid sparkly ocean-at-midday, vintage-surf-poster kind of blue. Something weird shifts in my chest.
I ignore it. I mean seriously they are that blue, anyone would notice.
Charlie bends down and lets Henry sniff his hand, then runs it gently through his soft fur.
“Well aren’t you gorgeous.” He smiles, patting Henry’s back.
“He’s our therapy dog,” Piper says. “He likes his tummy scratched. Don’t you Hen?” she says in a baby voice as she scratches his tummy.
“I’ll remember that, thanks for the tip. What’s your name?” Charlie asks.
“Piper.”
“Princess Piper, pleased to meet you.” Charlie smiles and offers his hand to shake. She grins and shakes it. Oh he’s good.
He doesn’t seem nervous. Or awkward. Or even slightly concerned about the chaos. Ismail is running in frantic circles around Henry. Jayden dramatically announces that he’s forgotten how to paddle. Piper is now yelling something about sitting at the front. Standard Thursday.
Calmly, he gets them all ready, checking their buoyancy aids by lifting them clean off the floor by the shoulders. They all giggle, legs kicking in the air like frogs. He high fives them all before handing them each a paddle. He’s making it look too easy. That irks me.
We walk down to a row of colourful canoes, all tied up.
“Brave man,” I say.
Charlie just laughs. “Oh, I love this kind of stuff. Alternative provision’s kind of my thing.”
“Riiiiiight,” I said, dragging out the word just enough to make it sound like a warning.
Emily stops dead in front of him and squints up at Charlie.
“What if I fall in?” She bites her lip nervously.
Charlie crouches down to her level, which immediately makes me irrationally annoyed. Don’t come in here all crouchy and charming, mate.
“You won’t,” he says. “I’ll be leading your sessions and no one has ever fallen in on my watch.”
“Why would they fall on your watch?” Her nose wrinkles in confusion.
Charlie smiles. “Sorry, I mean no one has ever fallen in before with me. Don’t worry, I’ll look after you all. And Nick.”
Something twists in my stomach again hearing my name. Weird.
“The sides of the canoe are super high, there’s no way you’ll fall in.”
Emily nods, clearly feeling a bit better.
Charlie unties the canoes, working quickly, easily—like he actually knows what he’s doing - which isn’t ideal, because the kids are already looking at him like he is a cool, Disney prince. They start singing APT, again for fucks sake, and Charlie joins in, adding in the TikTok dance moves. Smooth.
His curls look effortlessly perfect. And it bugs me how much I notice that.
“Charlie’s well funnier than you Nick.” Piper calls over to me. “Nick’s Dad jokes are terrible,” she says to Charlie with a roll of her eyes.
Great.
“Cheers, Princess Piper,” Charlie says, flashing that stupid dimpled grin again. She twirls in her dress that is so clearly not appropriate for canoeing.
“Charlie, did you know the ancient Greeks used to exercise naked. Like, full-on no clothes?” Jayden pipes up.
“I know right! And that’s actually where the word ‘gymnasium’ comes from—it means ‘a place to be naked.”
Jayden processes what Charlie has just said and his face lights up. “Really?”
Charlie nods. “I love Ancient Greece.”
Jayden’s hands start flapping. “It’s soooooo cool.”
I smile at Jayden. I love it when he gets excited. I somehow manage to resist rolling my eyes at this dude’s seemingly innate ability to know how to handle each of them already.
“Alright, team,” Charlie says, clapping his hands.
It’s as though he already knows if he lets Jayden continue, we would still be standing here this time tomorrow. How is he already so intuitive?
“Time for canoe chaos. Who’s ready to paddle?”
The kids cheer. Loudly. Too loudly.
I can’t wait to see how Mr ‘funnier than me’ Dimples controls them all in the canoe. Bring it on.