The Kings IV II

24

Hero

"You okay?"

Fran looked up from her sketch pad, smiling. "Yep. For the fifth time, I'm good."

"Hey," I said, shooting her a warning glance, "I've gotta make sure."

She smiled, averting her attention back to her drawing. I looked down at my phone and scrolled through my Instagram feed.

"What are you drawing?" I asked, keeping my eyes glued to my phone.

"Dad," she softly answered.

Dad turned around, smiling. "For real?"

She giggled and slammed her sketchbook shut as he ran towards her. "You can't see until it's done."

"You have to show me when it's done," he said, "I'm curious as to what I look like from the eyes of an artist."

"The greatest work of art of all time," Mom answered, smiling up at him.

"Well, I'm afraid that's you, mi amor."

I looked back at Fran, mimicking throwing up. She giggled and I looked back down at my phone, smiling.

My eyes went round at the first recommended account to follow.

Blair Thompson.

Without hesitation, I clicked on her profile. Public, and not teacher-esque, whatsoever.

I scrolled through her posts, my jaw seeming to drop a little more with each picture. I hope her students don't follow her.

I leaned back against the arm of the couch, chewing on my lip as I continued to scroll through her posts. What teacher posts pictures of her in booty shorts lying on the couch holding a glass of whiskey?

I let out a sigh, making sure no one's attention was directly focused on me and what I was doing. I stopped on one post, grimacing.

Her husband.

"That's fucking disgusting," I loudly said, making my eyes go wide.

"Language," Mom said, looking back at me.

"What is?" Dad asked, his chin in his palm.

"N-nothing," I said, "just this post. I don't know why people post shit like that."

Mom shot me a warning glance, her eyes wide.

"Sorry."

I angrily stood up, throwing my phone down on the couch. "Anyone want anything?"

"No, thank you," everyone declined, making me walk into the kitchen.

I braced my palms against the counter, letting out an angry puff of air.

"Stupid husband," I muttered, opening the fridge. I grabbed a protein shake and walked into the living room, falling into the couch.

"Why are you huffing and puffing, Hero?" Mom chuckled, pausing the TV.

"Hand's hurting."

Fran looked over at me, biting down on her lip.

I grabbed my phone, opening Instagram again. I continued to scroll through to try to find anything more of her and her husband.

Only one post together? Interesting.

"Mom, do you have Instagram?"

She looked back at me. "Uh, when I was nineteen. Why?"