Page 25 of Play the Last Card
The heat I’d been trying to suppress crawls up my neck and I’m sure my ears are bright red by now. I give myself an internal shake and zero in on the coffee in his hand.
“Heaven,” I whisper loud enough to earn a laugh, and move closer to him.
“The drink then,” he says. “Damn, this is my tightest t-shirt.”
I take a sip of the iced latte, glancing up at him through my lashes as the heavenly liquid slides down my throat. “Oh no, it’s working for you fine. But this right here.” I take another small sip. “This is pure, unadulterated, heaven. Takes a lot to get on this coffee’s level.”
This earns me another small laugh and I pocket it just as I do all the others I get.
I pat his chest, moving past him to set the coffee down on my desk. “Don’t worry big guy. You’ll get there one day. Maybe.”
If I’m being honest with myself, he’s probably already there but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I like your classroom.” He stares at the posters I put up, the banner that hangs from one end to the other, the name tags that sit on the desks already.
“You’re about five minutes too late to make yourself useful. I was struggling for ages with the banner and getting it hooked up on the corner over there.” I wave my hand around, sinking into my chair and sipping from the sugary goodness he brought me.
“I can stay and help if you like. I’ve got nothing else to do today.”
I look up from the drink. A mistake. It had been a mistake to sit down in his presence. It only makes him look bigger. Taller. More imposing. More attractive.
Get. It. Together.
“I don’t … that’s nice but … I mean, you don’t have too.”
He shrugs, looking around at the boxes scattered across the floor. “This looks like a lot for one person.”
“Usually Katie helps but I relieved her of her best friend duties today.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Why?”
Shit.“She’s annoying and persistent. But really you don’t have to stay. Thank you for offering but it’s really fine. I can do this. It’s boring, and a lot of me changing my mind on where things need to go. You don’t want to be on the receiving end. I can be annoying. Really,it’s—”
“Where do you want this one?” He cuts off my rambling and I finally force my eyes to refocus on him. He’s holding the birthday balloon chart I drew—a balloon for each month of the year with all the kids’ dates written in so we wouldn’t forget to celebrate.
My mouth opens, closes, and then opens again. This man is really standing in the middle of my half ready classroom, on a Friday—which is surely a work day for him, although I won’t ask—offering his help.
Katie will murder me in broad daylight if I turn him down.
So I don’t.
“Over by the door, on that pin board.” He nods, following my instructions, and carefully pinning up the poster. He even smooths it out with a hand when he’s done.
And it's decided.
I’m done for.
***
The first week back at school always kills.
It’s like I forget every summer just how brutally tired I am at the end of every day and just how I’m supposed to manage the energy to come back and do it all again the next day.
The kids are the most emotional that first week too. It’s their first school experience. They’re leaving their parents for the first time, all day, and meeting all these new people. It takes longer to calm them in the morning, they’re weary of the teachers and the other kids.
Safe to say, between the teachers and the kids, the first week back is a rollercoaster filled with more tears than laughter. Thankfully it gets easier as the semester goes on. But god, the first week kills.
This year though, I have a new secret weapon to keep a smile on my face through the drop off tantrums and the ‘I don’t know how to share’ arguments my five-year-olds are experts at.