Authentic

a/n: Because I didn't want to wait to write the whole fic I have in mind just to get to this part, I decided to write a scene that's been playing in my mind for the last few months. Manny's hot as hell, he deserves someone who'd appreciate him. So I made an OC to make that happen! (Technically she's already been made; I use her for the Arrow fandom but knew she'd fit here with some tweaks.) Her name's Sage Moreaux, she's a music teacher at Abbott Elementary, and her faceclaim is Tinashe!

I will eventually write the rest of the fic that leads up to this part and everything afterwards but I have no self control so you get it now. By the time I write and post the full fic this scene may have some tweaks to make it better but I figured people might enjoy what I have in the meantime. I could listen to Josh Segarra talk all day!

(I know they've mentioned a music teacher and that a music teacher ep is coming, but i had this idea of her being Abbott's music teacher before it was properly brought in as a plot! 😤 Plus it's fanfic and I can change things to be the way I want.)

Thanks for stopping by!

When the door firmly shut, Sage let out the growl of frustration lodged in her chest. Her body slumped against the solid wood, knowing it keep her up as her spirits fell.

She. Was so. Close!

Everything was perfect. The lighting. The mood. The appetizers. The music. Her outfit. Her heels. Her hair. Her. Never in her life did she think the three hours she spent getting everything trimmed, tweezed, glazed, and snatched wouldn't have the usual effect.

Why was it now, when she was actually trying, she couldn't land the guy? No matter how much she batted her eyes, touched his arm, leaned close to him, he didn't take the bait. And a few times they were so close she thought that was it, he'd finally kiss her, but instead he'd grab the cup he'd been reaching for over her head or the stack of cards on the table by her knee. He sung her praises all night; complimenting her food and her music choices and the decorations around her apartment. He'd told her he personally vouched to get her the music teacher job at Abbot after Jacob pushed her to apply.

That had to have meant something.

Right?

Sage pressed her lips into a line. She always knew Manny was nice. It was one of the things she liked about him, that drew her to him. It was a massive change of pace from the guys who tended to creep around the stage waiting to catch her eye, not just to pay her for making them a part of her world for five seconds, but to get a chance for her time after hours.

Manny didn't have smooth lines so rehearsed she was two steps ahead of him because he already knew what to say; he left her scrambling to regain her footing. He didn't have that fake charisma to play up who he wished he was; he carried so much comfort in his swag he kept her head turning. He didn't have that air of deserving the best because he was better; he was an equal opportunity supporter, pulling people up along with him that had her wanting to be in his spotlight.

He was authentic. Guys weren't made like that anymore.

"I'm done," she said aloud while tugging the false lashes off her eyes. "I'm done." Maybe if she said it often enough, she'd believe herself. Fake it 'til you make it, right? Only she wasn't faking.

Heaving a sigh, she unglued herself from the door and went through her wind-down routine. She was already a step ahead with removing her lashes; she followed it up with ten minutes of her red light mask, removing her contacts and her makeup, steaming her face, applying moisturizers and serums, prodding at what she felt was a blemish growing beneath the surface of cheek, and topped it off with throwing her hair up into a messy bun, pulling on her favorite comfort sweats, and swapping out her sky-high party heels for crocs. (The shoes were ugly as hell but even she couldn't deny how comfortable they were.)

Shuffling out her bedroom, her stomach growled as she surveyed the remnants of the party on the countertop: opened chip bags, a charcuterie board with spare slices of salami and brie cheese that started to grow hard beneath the open air, bowls with smears of guac on the sides, a few jalapeno poppers, and little branches of buffalo cauliflower bites. While the hodgepodge of a late-night snack appealed to her, nothing would soothe her bruised ego like a hearty pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and some cattiness only housewives or a good drag race season could provide.

Seven months, down the drain.

Curling her legs up to her chest, Sage stabbed at the chunks of chocolate in the light green ice cream. Sighing, she allowed her body to sink into the soft cushions. This was all she needed. Good food, a fresh face, and drama that had nothing to do with her.

The ice cream had barely melted on her tongue when the sharp rap of knuckles on her door made her grunt. Once upon a time she would've welcomed a late night visitor, nothing quite eased stress like a good between the sheets, but that was then, this is now, and she was missing a good fight.

All but slamming the carton onto her coffee table, she got to her feet and made it to the door in quick strides. All fire in her died at the sight of him, only to spring back up at the sight of him.

Thirteen minutes later and Manny still had her tongue wagging; he was the only man she knew who could rock a cardigan as casual ware paired with a gold chain under the age of forty without looking like an out-of-touch grandpa. Maybe the healthy coating of hair on his jaw helped, or maybe it was the perma-smile on his face, or maybe it was the way he held himself: comfortable and confident and powerful. One had to be to wield broad shoulders like that. Regaining the little bit of dignity she had left, she snapped her mouth shut and rolled her shoulders back.

"Manny." She lifted her chin, keeping her voice as detached as possible. She was done trying to get with him; he didn't get her sweet smiles anymore.

"Apologies for swinging back so late, Hummingbird." Drat. Her heart still sung at that name; it's what he'd bestowed upon her when he snuck into her music room while she ruminated on the piano on a visit to Abbott. "It seems I've misplaced my wallet. And I can't go too far without it."

Her eyelashes fluttered under the honey dripping off his words and it took for his smile to quirk in the corner, adding a delicious plump to his lips, that made her jerk, shake her head, and come back to Earth. "Oh. Right. Yeah, I didn't see anything but, um..." she jerked her thumb over her shoulder and stepped aside. "You can take a look."

"Much obliged."

He made a beeline for the kitchen behind the living room as she closed the doors and crossed her arms. It was one thing for him to see her dressed down and another for him to see the cartoon of a panda sleeping on the Nike symbol surrounded by the words, no, you do it. That was reserved for those who lasted long. And, well, not many men in her vicinity did.

"You know, that was some party," Manny spoke as he ambled at his slow pace into the kitchen. He dragged a finger along the bartop, pausing by the charcuterie board. She didn't need to gain the power to read minds to know what he was thinking. Did she really try to feed the man a honey-covered baked brie with raspberry on a crostini? God, she'd fallen so far.

"Yeah, well, I thought with how the Budget Meeting went, if the ship is going down we might as well go down having a time," Sage replied. Her skin pricked beneath the intensity of his gaze. Clearing her throat, she shifted her weight and rubbed the front of a croc against the back of her leg. Would he notice if she quickly swapped them out? Guys weren't that perceptive...

He looked around the kitchen for a few moments before replying. "Yeah, it's probably best to get it out of your system now before the district comes and rains hellfire."

Sage scoffed. "I'm not scared." Besides, it was Jacob that got them into this mess. She loved the guy but his mouth was looser than Zeus with a chastity belt. And, well, this was supposed to be temporary, wasn't it? Teach a couple years at Abbott to get some experience under her belt, then head back to grad school to get her master's so she could finally lean into the music therapy track like she wanted. So what did it matter to her if things went sideways?

"No?"

She busied herself, unrooting herself form the doorway to look through the couch cushions. The same couch she'd tried to straddle him on... Pushing the humiliating quick memory away, she shoved her hands in between the cushions. They came up empty. "I mean, they have someone like you working there and you're not exactly intimidating."

"I'm not?" His eyebrow cocked as she hummed the negative and gave a shrug.

"Not really, no." She made a show of glancing at her nails, even though she knew they were perfect because she'd never risk a hang nail or marred polish. She watched his approach from beneath her lashes; he rounded the bar, head titling slightly, eyes trained on her.

By the time he rounded the couch and stood in front of her, a gleaming, easy smile sat on his lips. "Then what would you say I am...exactly?"

Distracting was the first thing to come to mind, followed quickly by a few salacious substitutes, but she wiped that away and went for a safer answer. "Audacious." She held her ground and her gaze on him, studied the deep grooves in the corners of his crinkled eyes and every sharp angle to his face.

She didn't think it was possible but his smile got wider. If they were in a cartoon, a very large and audible ding would've sounded at the sparkles dotting his teeth under the low lights. "You're a feisty one. You know, that's what I like about you. You keep everyone on their toes. I keep tap-dancing around you, myself, and I gotta say, I don't mind the rhythm." His tongue swiped across his bottom lip and he continued, "Which is I wanted to know if you'd do me the honor of having dinner with me next Friday night. We could do dancing afterward; I know a good bachata place."

What? Her dry mouth made the startling reality hit her like a thunderbolt: she didn't have the answer. Men were simple creatures; having gone through her fair share of them, she knew how to keep herself in a good position to stay on top (in more ways than one.) But something about Manny she couldn't pin, no matter how many times she'd imagined doing just that in many different ways over many different nights.

"...Huh?" Wow, girl, way to be articulate. But he wasn't supposed to be the one taking the reins here. She had it all planned. She had a fool-proof system. She would've been dressed better, at least.

"You're wicked beautiful, Sage." Heat burned her cheeks and she brought her hand up to her hair, fingering the tangles she already dreaded having to undo later. "And on top of that, you have drive and tenacity that I, for one, find deeply intriguing. Your whole personality is stunning."

"So...wait...this whole time I...?"

"You didn't have to try so hard. You already had my attention that day in the music room. And I haven't been unappreciative of your advances, in fact I'm pretty flattered. The thing is, I'd like to get to know you better before jumping into things that could become...complicated. Nothing against you and I mean no disrespect"—his hand came up to his chest as he reached out and lightly touched her arm—"but I want you to know where I'm at before anything gets started so we're on the same page."

...What kind of cognizant, self-aware, therapy-bred kind of freak was he? What was she supposed to do without having to decipher his words and pick apart his intentions until she got to the truth at the center? He'd just laid it bare, on a silver platter, offered it up for her to accept. Who did that?

"I, um, yeah. Yes. That sounds...very, very perfect, actually." His beaming smile following a heaved breath made a smile finally push to her face.

"Great. I'll come pick you up at seven. Will that be enough time? You mentioned you have a crochet group you like to meet up with."

"I...yes! Yes I do! Some nights. Mhm." She nodded so much she felt had an idea of what a bobblehead felt like. "But...but I'm sure they'll understand if I skip it just this once." She made a mental note to temporarily block the club owner's phone number. He couldn't make her take the stage if he couldn't get a hold of her. And she'd kept the day and night part of her life so far apart, he had no way of figuring out what she was really up to. He'd just have to hit up one of the other dancers. They kept getting on her for "taking all the attention" anyway; now they could get their money's worth with sleazy guys while she danced with someone instead of on someone for a change.

"I can't wait." She followed him to the door, keeping her eyes north of his waist. Damn, he had such good shoulders! And soon she'd get the chance to be close enough to feel them under her grip. "Friday then?"

She nodded, leaning against the door. "Friday." A week couldn't come soon enough. Her fingers undulated in a quick wave as she pushed the door shut, only pausing when a thought stopped her. "Wait. What about your wallet?"

"What wallet?" He winked, the crinkles deepening in the corner of his eye and, with a light rap to the doorframe, he pulled himself away and walked down the hall.

She watched him the entire way.