Devin walked around the back of his car, selecting his fuel grade and readying the pump. "Hey, I respect teachers. They have one of the hardest jobs. Hell, they had to deal with me for over a decade."

The numbers ticked upward, and he set the pump to stay on its own. "A celebrity? Not really."

No, not a celebrity. His picture was in the back of a book, though. What was the least narcissistic way to put it?

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I'm a writer. You might have seen me that...way." Okay, so he liked when people recognized him on the street. It happened maybe once in a blue moon. It didn't mean Devin knew how to gracefully accept it.