Chapter Text
The first time Melissa really spoke to you was when you brought carbonara for lunch.
You’d been working at Abbott for three weeks and had been settling in better than you’d expected. The first graders had grown on you quickly, and the staff was generally nice. Janine and Jacob, two of the youngest teachers, had immediately tried to befriend you. Gregory had approved of the plants you’d brought in to decorate your class, and Barbara had fawned over your latest manicure. Even Ava had her own special way of making you feel welcome by not dissing you the way she did others (mostly Jacob and Janine).
But Melissa? She was standoffish and hard to befriend. Despite having your classroom next to hers, you didn't know much about her. She never started a conversation with you and seemed disinterested in whatever you had to say. On your first day, she had straight-up told you that she wouldn’t care to remember your name until you proved that you wouldn’t quit at the first sign of trouble.
You didn’t take it personally. From what you’d heard, teacher turnover was pretty high at Abbott, so Melissa’s comment didn’t bother you. Besides, you weren’t planning on quitting any time soon. You were twenty-nine now, and after your life crisis a few years ago and the professional pivot you’d been forced to make, you were glad just to have a job you liked.
This Monday in the middle of September started out as usual: drink your coffee at the teacher’s lounge, work on your class plan for the day, and try to bear Janine’s energetic chatter before heading off to class. The kids were more unruly than usual, full of pent-up energy from having to take recess indoors due to the rain. The hours dragged by, and you felt a headache coming on.
But this seemingly regular day turned around out of nowhere and changed everything.
Right when the lunch bell rang, you rushed to the teacher’s lounge, not wanting to waste a minute. You were starving and in desperate need of a break.
That’s when you ran into Melissa. She was warming up her food in the microwave, the first of any other teacher to arrive.
“Hey,” you greeted, getting your own tupperware from the fridge.
“Hey.” She barely spared you a glance, scrolling on her phone.
For a handful of long seconds, the only sound in the lounge was that of the microwave heating her food. You dawdled, gathering some cutlery and preparing another coffee. When the microwave beeped at last, Melissa got her food out, and in the process caught sight of the contents of your lunch.
“Carbonara?” she asked.
You startled, not expecting her to make any conversation.
“Yeah. Made way too much of it last night.”
She studied your lunch like she was supervising an exam.
“Let me guess, you made it with bacon.”
Frowning, you leaned against the counter with your arms crossed.
“You accusing me of a crime I didn’t do?” That got her attention, and sharp green eyes snapped up to study you instead. “I used pancetta, of course. And eggs, not cream. I’m not an animal.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Oh yeah? Where’d you get the pancetta? It’s not so easy to get good quality ‘round here.”
Your lips twitched into the semblance of a smirk. “I know a guy.”
She huffed, crossing her arms too. “Oh really?”
“Yeah. His name’s Bixente.”
Her face lit up. “No shit. That’s my pancetta guy too!”
You laughed, and any lingering awkwardness melted away.
“You Italian, then?” she asked, leaning closer.
“Half. My mom’s Italian, my dad’s Spanish.”
“Huh.” She gave you a once-over as if seeing you for the first time. “It’s Sophia, right? What’s your last name again?”
“Lozano.”
“Lozano,” she repeated, nodding in approval.
Feeling oddly satisfied by the interaction, you began heating up your food while Melissa sat at her usual table. When your food was done, she turned to look at you over her shoulder.
“Come sit.”
The offer caught you off-guard, but you weren’t about to turn it down. You sat across from her, mindful not to take Barbara’s seat. The pasta was lightly steaming as you twirled it around your fork and waited for it to cool a little.
“So,” she said, starting to mix up her chicken and rice. “Where in Italy is your mom from?”
“From Bologna. You’re Sicilian, right?” She seemed surprised by this, so you explained, “I heard you mention it a few weeks ago.”
“And you didn’t say anything about being Italian?”
You shrugged. “Didn’t think it mattered.”
“‘Course it does! I’m not the only one anymore.”
You smiled and took a bite of your food. She watched you as if trying to gauge whether your pasta was any good or not.
“You wanna try some?” you asked, pushing the tupperware towards her.
She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully before gathering a good forkful and bringing it to her mouth. The moment she tasted it, her eyes gleamed.
“Nice work, kid,” she said between chewing.
You smiled victoriously and took the tupperware back.
“Got your seal of approval, then?”
After swallowing, she tilted her head questioningly.
“Did you add truffles?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn. Consider me surprised, kid.”
You grinned and tucked into your lunch. Soon enough the other teachers started trickling in. Everyone did a double take when they saw you sitting at Melissa’s table, but nobody dared to say anything when they realized the intimidating woman was actually making conversation with you.
When Barbara arrived, she seemed surprised like everyone else, but smiled at you nonetheless.
“Hello, dear,” she said as she took a seat.
“I asked her to join us today,” Melissa told her. “Did you know she’s Italian?”
Barbara chuckled. “I see.”
To your surprise, the two women were very welcoming. They conversed with you and asked questions about how things were going for you at Abbott. Barbara offered some sage advice for dealing with one particular kid that had been in her class, Connor. His self-esteem was very dependent on how well he did in class and he could get quite competitive with the other kids, to the point where he threw tantrums if he got an answer wrong or lost a game.
“He’s always been a sensitive child,” she said. “If he ever lashes out, try to re-direct him to another activity that will boost his confidence and make him feel better. That always worked for me.”
“I’ll try that, thanks.”
“I am not looking forward to having him next year,” Melissa muttered around her banana.
The rest of the day went much better from there. You felt uplifted and quite satisfied that you’d finally gotten somewhere with Melissa. Despite her prickly manner, she had caught your attention from the moment you saw her – all self-confidence and witty retorts, wrapped in fiery red hair and and those green eyes. You’d been too intimidated to really push to befriend her, but today, unexpectedly, you’d finally gotten somewhere.
If you’d known that all it would take was sharing your Italian heritage, you’d have done it much sooner.
For the next few weeks, you slowly became a part of the group. Jacob and Janine grew on you, especially after Jacob learned you were gay and they invited you to drag brunch. Though you enjoyed their company, you usually spent lunch with Barbara and Melissa, even when they went out.
Apparently this development was a Big Deal. According to Janine, nobody else got invited to “ladies’ lunch”, as she called it. Not even teachers who had been working there for years. Which, you had to admit, perplexed you. Why were you being invited to join them like you were special?
You never outright asked them, of course. Don’t look a gifted horse in the mouth and all that. You set out to simply enjoy the women’s company and get to know them better.
By mid-October, Melissa had warmed up to you considerably. You often chatted with her outside your classrooms, and you'd become particularly fond of Sweet Cheeks, the adorable guinea pig that was her class pet. You found it endlessly endearing that Melissa’s usually tough demeanor melted away around her furry son. One time, you'd even caught her reading him a story while he snoozed on her chest. It made you see a side of her you'd never thought she had.
As you spent more time together, you learned a surprising amount of her life outside school – though most of it was just from context clues of her conversations with Barbara. For instance, you learned that she was divorced and had no kids, though she came from a very large family. You learned that her sister was persona non-gratta for some mysterious and terrible thing that happened a few years ago. You heard about Gary the vending machine guy, whom she had been dating but eventually broke things off with because he couldn’t accept that she didn’t want to get married again. And you also learned that Jacob was living in her house and they watched Real Housewives together every week.
When you heard about this one day during lunch, you couldn’t contain your excitement.
“Oh, really? I love Real Housewives!”
Your companions paused their eating to have significantly different reactions – Barbara looked up towards the heavens as if asking for patience, while Melissa’s eyes lit up.
“Stop it,” she said with a surprised smile. “You watch it too?”
“Religiously. I have got to know who called the Feds on Teresa.”
“Right?! I bet it was Amber, that bitch.”
“And what’s up with Marge?” You gestured with your fork, giddy that you finally had someone to talk about the show with. “She’s always changing up her story.”
“Because she’s sneaky.”
You laughed and nodded enthusiastically. “As hell.”
Melissa considered you while she bit into her food.
“Tell you what, kid. Jacob and I are gonna watch the newest episode tonight. Why don’t you come over and we can watch it together after dinner? I’m making risotto.”
“That sounds great!” You tried to keep your excitement to a minimum. “I have dance practice until six thirty though, is that okay?”
“You dance?” Barbara asked.
“Yeah, since I was in high school.”
Melissa propped her chin on her hand. “What kind of dance?”
“I’ve done a bit of everything – ballet, tango, salsa… But I'm in a hip hop-style dance crew right now. It’s not really hip hop, though, we call it Polyswagg. It's a combination of a bunch of different modern styles. We do a show every year, and sometimes go to dance competitions and stuff.”
“Really?” Melissa said. “You must be pretty good then.”
You shrugged, trying not to blush. “It’s a fun hobby. I can’t do the typical gym workout by itself, I need something extra, with a group of people. It’s more fun that way.”
“I hear you,” Jacob piped up from the other table. “I thought cycling would be enough until I signed up for badminton. It’s so much better to do it with other people, you know? It gets boring just doing it by yourself.”
His accidental double entendre wasn’t lost to you, and you snorted before you could hold it back. Melissa gave you a knowing look, an amused smile curving her lips.
“Amen to that," she mumbled.
The two of you snickered under your breaths while Jacob stared at you in confusion.
“Have you thought about teaching dance as an extra curricular class?” Barbara asked, snapping you out of your immature laughter.
“I hadn’t considered it, no. Do you think the students would be interested?”
“I’m sure they’d love it!” Janine exclaimed, grasping her hands together. “The kids are always doing Tiktok dances and stuff, so you should definitely think about it.”
“I might, yeah.”
It was a good idea, really. Aside from practicing with the crew a few evenings a week, you didn’t really do much outside of work. Your social life had been dwindling in the past year since your ex-girlfriend decided to hook up with one of your friends. Unfortunately for you, most of your friends had been your ex’s friends first, so after the breakup you didn’t have that many people with whom you felt comfortable hanging out with. Aside from the people in your dance crew, you didn’t really have that many friends.
But now you had this new job, and the people here were starting to become your friends. You’d already met up with Janine and Jacob outside of work a few times, after all. And getting an invitation to Melissa’s house was a new kind of thrill entirely. From everything you’d learned about her, she didn’t hand out invitations to her home lightly.
That evening after dance practice, you took a quick shower in the changing rooms and threw on a comfortable dark blue t-shirt and wide-legged jeans. Gathering your bag and your leather jacket, you quickly left before any of your fellow dancers could try to rope you into grabbing a drink.
The drive to Melissa’s house was thankfully short. On the way, you stopped by your usual bodega to buy a nice bottle of red and some Spanish manchego cheese that would pair nicely with it.
By the time you made it to Melissa's, it was just past 7pm. Jacob was the one to answer the door and welcome you in.
“Hey! How was dance rehearsal?” he asked.
You took a moment to look around the place. The living room was wide and full of framed photographs, which you were dying to take a closer look at but refrained. To the right was a big TV in front of a large coffee table and – much to your amusement – a plastic-covered sofa and a matching armchair. On the other side of the room was a dining table. From the open doorway you could hear the sounds of Melissa in the kitchen - a cupboard shutting, the tap running, a knife chopping away.
“It was okay,” you finally answered. “We’re just getting started figuring out a new choreography for the Hip Hop Nationals coming up in June.”
“Sounds exciting! Where is it gonna be? Do you get to travel?”
“Nah, it’s gonna be here in Philly this year, thankfully,” you said just as you entered the kitchen.
“What is?” Melissa asked, turning towards you. “Hey, hon.”
“Hey,” you somehow managed to reply, too stunned by the vision before you.
You’d never seen Melissa with her hair up. She was so gorgeous that you nearly forgot how to speak. There were stray locks framing her face and neck, and her make up was more subtle, the eyeliner less pointed. She wore a light green top that hugged her in all the right places and showed more skin than usual. Over that she had a light denim button-down that was left blessedly open.
She looked softer than usual, more at ease. You couldn’t look away.
“So what’s happening here in Philly?” she asked again, snapping you out of it.
You cleared your throat and tried to compose yourself. “My next dance competition in June.” You lifted the paper bag in your hand. “Here, I brought some stuff.”
Melissa wiped her hands on a cloth and took it, extracting the bottle of wine and cheese. She studied their labels before nodding in approval.
“Good choices, hon,” she complimented, and you felt that strange thrill of satisfaction again. She opened a drawer and took a sharp knife. “There are grapes in the fridge. You wanna cut the cheese?”
“Of course. Smells delicious, by the way.”
“Wait ‘till you try it.” She sent you a confident smirk and then pushed the drawer closed with her hip.
It shouldn’t have been so sexy to watch, but you felt warm all over after that. After tearing your eyes away, you diligently cut the cheese in perfect slices, placing them on a plate meticulously. When you were done, Melissa announced that there was about ten minutes left before the food was ready.
Without being told, you opened the wine and poured three glasses that Jacob handed you while he chatted about the latest sociopolitical podcast he’d enjoyed.
“Jacob,” Melissa cut him off with an edge to her voice. “Go and get things ready in the living room.”
“On it,” Jacob replied, doing as told.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Melissa sent you a conspiratorial look.
“Sometimes I just need a break, you know?”
You nodded sympathetically and handed her a glass of wine.
“Thanks,” she said, humming as she took her first sip. Then she looked at the cheese and grape platter you’d made and nodded approvingly. “Looks good.”
You smiled proudly and leaned back against the counter facing her, your own wine glass in hand.
“Can I do anything else?”
“Nah, you’re good, thanks hon.”
For a moment, you both sipped in companionable silence, enjoying the quiet calm. You liked being like this with her, especially in her home. It was like seeing a different side of her.
“Is this what you usually do after work?” you asked. “Spend your evenings cooking delicious meals?”
“Sometimes, yeah.” She shrugged. “Although I also love building miniature models and puzzles. And knitting. Helps me wind down after a day full of crazy kids.”
“Oh,” you replied, taken slightly by surprise. You hadn’t pegged her as someone with those types of hobbies, but now that you thought about it, you could definitely imagine her at a table surrounded by puzzle pieces or lounging on the couch covered in yarn while watching TV. “Can I see anything you’ve made?”
It was her turn to look surprised. “You wanna see my models and stuff?”
The doubtful tone of her voice made something in your chest twinge. Did people not usually ask to learn more about her hobbies and admire her work?
“Of course,” you replied. “Though only if you wanna show me, of course.”
The smile that bloomed on her face was wide and true. “Follow me.”
She led you out to the living room, where there was a large shelf covering the entire back wall. There, tucked in a corner mostly out of sight, were three miniature models: a colorful flower shop, a cozy bakery, an Italian pizzeria, and a Parisian cafe. They were so full of details that you took your time studying each one. You could only imagine the amount of time and care Melissa had put into making them.
“They’re beautiful.”
Next to you, Melissa bit her lip to hide her smile, but her eyes shone enough to reveal how pleased she was.
“Thanks, hon,” she replied, voice soft.
From the kitchen, the timer went off, and Melissa hurried to get the food out of the heat. You helped her plate everything while she called Jacob to come fetch his portion.
The three of you made your way to the living room, where you shared the sofa with Melissa while Jacob took the armchair. The show started as soon as you settled in to eat, and you dug in with gusto.
“Oh my god,” you moaned around your first bite. “Melissa, this is so good.”
She chuckled light-heartedly. “Did you expect anything less?”
“From you? Absolutely not.”
The three of you ate and watched the show, occasionally with a running commentary. By the time the episode finished, you were relaxing into the sofa (despite the plastic cover, it was actually really comfy). Melissa was close enough that you could smell her perfume, and you were perfectly content.
Jacob yawned and stretched before gathering his plate. “I think I’ll head up to bed, I’m beat. Nighty night.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night, kid,” Melissa called, and began clearing up your plates from dinner.
You helped clear the table and then followed her to the kitchen. While she put away the leftovers, you took your rings off and began washing up at the sink.
“Honey, you don’t have to do that,” Melissa said.
“‘Course I do. The chef should never clean up afterwards. It’s the rules.”
She huffed and crossed her arms. “Really? First time I’ve ever heard that.”
Frowning, you glanced at her over your shoulder. “Did Joe not clean after you cooked?”
“Nah. He was always too tired.”
“Well that’s bullshit,” you mumbled under your breath, but she heard it anyway. She chuckled and didn’t offer a reply. Instead, she came to stand beside you to dry the dishes after you cleaned them.
Once again, that companionable silence returned. You were surprised by how comfortable it was to just exist with her, enjoying the quiet after a long day. You couldn't help but notice her relaxed expression and her hooded eyes.
“Thank you for this,” you said, turning your attention back to your task. “I really enjoyed it.”
You felt her eyes on your profile, but couldn’t quite make yourself meet her gaze.
“I’m glad.”
When the cleaning was done, she led you back out the living room and to the entry way, where she watched as you pulled your jacket on.
“Drive safe, okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks again for everything.”
“No problem. Text me when you get home.”
You smiled at her, touched by her thoughtfulness. “I will. Goodnight, Melissa.”
She smiled in return, and despite her sleepy gaze, she looked utterly beautiful.
“‘Night, hon.”