by Emma Nichole
I connect my laptop to the Smart Board via Bluetooth and begin to play a very loud, very obnoxious sound from Dumb and Dumber repeatedly, all the while staring at my class until they all turn their attention to me.
“We can do this all day long, so you can give me the fifteen minutes I have you to allow me to teach you something, or we can be assigned extra reading for tonight. The choice is yours.”
“Sorry, Ms. Westbrook,” they say in a unison that almost sounds rehearsed.
“Thank you. Now, please turn to where we left off in Gatsby last class.”
My cell phone is perched on my podium so I can see the screen, in case someone calls or texts, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t waiting on bated breath for Isaac to reach out.
It’s only been two days since our date, and I know he’s on shift today, but that doesn’t change the fact I haven’t stopped thinking about him.
To say I was surprised by how much of a gentleman he was is an understatement. He gives off the aura of arrogance that I normally associate with less than chivalrous tendencies, but he’s a conundrum.
I’m sitting silently, reading along as one of my students reads a passage aloud from the book when I see movement in my peripheral that pulls my attention.
Liv is waving at me to come out to the hall through the glass window beside the door.
“Keeping reading aloud. Just go down the rows. A page each. I’ll be right back.”
I slip from my chair and out into the hall.
“Oh my God, I stood over here forever trying to get your attention,” Liv whisper-yells to me.
“I was doing that thing you should be doing. Teaching.”
She waves me off then keeps talking, “I was just coming back from the career fair.”
She stops talking and smiles at me like I’m supposed to be able to read her mind.
“Is that it?”
“He’s here.”
“Who’s here?”
“Don’t play dumb. Isaac. He’s here. He’s with some broody, very large, alpha male looking god. There are two of them. Two hot firefighters in our gymnasium, right now, one of whom wants to douse your vagina fire.”
“Liv!” I cover her mouth with my hand, “You can’t say that here, and eww, that sounds like I have something gross going on. Rephrase that. Less grossness, less crudeness.” I drop my hand. “Try again.”
She takes a breath then explodes into a whisper-shout yet again, “The hot as sin firefighter, who clearly wants to spend time with you, and possibly let you handle his water hose is here.”
“Jesus Christ.”
The instant typical female feelings fire through my brain.
Do I look okay?
Is there lipstick on my teeth?
What do I say to him?
Do I even talk to him?
Is this outfit okay? What about my boobs, do they look good?
As if she can read my mind, my best friend places her hands on my shoulders and settles my mind. “You look great. Your hair is perfect and the high-waisted jeans were a good call. You’ve got this Van Halen thing going on.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re making all of us ‘Hot for Teacher.’” She fans herself.
I shake my head and laugh. “Are you sure?”
My hair is twisted up into a bun with a pencil through the middle, holding it in place. I had arrived to school this morning with it down, but quickly regretted that choice, piling it high less than an hour into my day.
“He makes you nervous, doesn’t he?” She nudges my shoulder.
“God, Liv, for so many reasons.” I lean back against a locker and sigh. “I’m not used to being affected this way by anyone. He throws me off my axis.”
“This is a bad thing?” She holds out her hand in confusion.
“No, but it’s a scary thing.”
“Don’t fight it. Enjoy it. You deserve it.” She gives my thigh a swat. “Now, go finish up and get your flirt on. I expect full details later.”
“We are at work. There will be no details to share.”
“Oh, give me a break. Go-go-go.”
***
I try, I really do, to not look like I’m blatantly searching for the first responders table when we make our way into the open gymnasium.
Tables are lined all around the outer edge with two rows back-to-back in the center, creating a round area for the students to learn and explore about all kinds of careers they could pursue after college.
Doctors from Sunnyville Methodist Hospital are lined up on the right with nurses, LPNs, CNAs, and every position in the medical field you can think of. Cooks with a fancy culinary school logo embroidered on their white coats are to the left, cooking up something delicious on a hot plate, no doubt trying to sway a few hungry folks their way.
I remind my students to be back in the classroom in forty-five minutes then I start making my way around the circle of tables, not so subtly looking for a six foot three fireman who has been occupying most of my mind as of late.
I pass by the culinary arts table and happily take a sample of some kind of delicious chicken they offer to me and continue on around until a sight stops me in my tracks.
There are three tables stationed side by side with two people standing behind each.
A dark-haired, broad-shouldered man stands beside a pretty blonde woman, both in their police uniforms, at the first table. They are chatting up two of my AP students, so I leave them to their conversation and make my way to the next table.
“Now who’s stalking who?” His voice is like caramel and it sends chills over my skin.
I turn toward him to make eye contact and I’m nearly knocked off my feet at the sight of him.
He is dressed just as he was the last time he was here for the fire drill, but this time he is wearing his bunker pants over his slacks and they are held up by bright red suspenders. It’s like a porno fantasy standing right in front of me.
“You’re in my place of employment, sir.”
The handsome gentleman at his side leans over and whispers loud enough for me to hear, “She called you sir. Keep her.”
“Well, that would imply he even has me to begin with.” I grin and step up to the table.
“I’m working on it,” Isaac adds with that killer smile. “Sawyer, this is Grady Malone. Grady, this is Sawyer. She’s an English teacher here.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Grady Malone.” I reach out to shake his hand.
“Likewise, Sawyer.” He shakes my hand in return.
“So, young lady, are you here to inquire about the wonderous world of being a firefighter?” Isaac is trying to be cute, I know he is, but the display behind him sends chills up my back and I instantly feel nauseous.
Structural fires, wildfires, accident scenes, every kind of issue you’d take on as someone in that line of work, but the memories that wash over my soul sink like a boulder in my stomach and I have to look away.
“Actually, uh, I just remembered… I have… something I need to do.” I place my hand over my racing heart. “Grady, it was nice meeting you.”
“Sawyer? Are you okay?” Isaac steps around the table.
“I’m fine. I just… I have to go.”
Isaac
I’ve never seen someone go from flushed to stark white in less than five seconds in my entire thirty-seven years on this earth, but Sawyer’s beautiful face did just that.
And she was gone like a burst of wind before I could even make it around to check on her completely, and I lost her in the sea of high school students crowding in the area.
“Black,” Grady says, and I glance over my shoulder at him. “Go check on her. I’ve got this.”
“I’ll be back.”
I weave through the throngs of teenagers zigging and zagging across in front of me, and I catch a brief glimpse of her chocolate brown hair as she slips out of the door on the other side of the area. I move as quickly as I can without seeming like I am lite
rally chasing her, even though that is exactly what I’m doing, and when I finally exit the same door she did, she is nowhere to be found.
“Shit.” I slide my hand over my face in frustration and drop my back against the wall.
I wait for a few minutes, hoping maybe she will come back down, but she doesn’t, and I have no idea where to find her. This school is so much bigger and much more of a maze than you’d think.
“Aren’t you supposed to be guiding our youth toward their ultimate path or some shit?” His irritating voice is the last thing I want to hear right now.
“I would say that’s your job, but I know how much you suck at it,” I retort.
Caleb leans against the wall next to me and crosses his arms. “You’re a dick when you’re pissy. What’s the matter?”
“Where is Sawyer Westbrook’s classroom?”
“Ohhhh, so that’s what the problem is. What? She get wise and run for the hills?”
“Not the time to joke, fucker.” I push off the wall and turn to face him. “I saw her a few minutes ago and she was fine then all of a sudden she looked like she saw a ghost and took off. I just want to make sure she’s all right.”
He nods in understanding. “All right. Fair enough. She’s the third door down in the English hall. Head straight down there, take a left. You’ll see her name on the wall.”
“Thank you.”
I don’t wait for him to say anything at all. I go straight for her.
The hallway is just as I remember it, even though it’s been years since I walked these halls as a teenager. The smells are the same, and the far too bright lighting that casts a sterile glow off of the white, speckled tiles brings me right back to those years when I thought I was hot shit and ruled the world.
I look for her name on each of the metal plates on the wall by each door and when I find hers, I stop short of the handle… and just watch through the glass window.
She’s sitting at a podium of sorts, at the front of the classroom, and her head is in her hands. I can tell by the movement of her shoulders she’s crying just as hard as she was in her car that day at the track.
She raises her head just a little and uses the back of her hand to wipe tears away from her face, and I can see the rise and fall of her chest as she steadies her breathing.
I’m not sure when the decision becomes final in my head, but before I even register it’s happening, I’ve pulled open her classroom door, strode toward her, and pulled her into my arms, holding her and trying to slay whatever demon has made itself known today.
“Isaac? What are you doing?” She doesn’t push back against me, or even fight. She is stiff in surprise for just a moment, then her muscles relax, and she allows herself to melt into my body.
“You’re crying. I’m a hugger. Seemed like the right thing to do.” I am trying to make light of the situation, to hopefully shine even a morsel of light on the moment.
“You’re actually a pretty good hugger,” she sniffs quietly, and I feel her flex her fingers against my back.
“Pretty good? I strive for excellence, so we’ll have to try this again one day in order to have a fair comparison.”
“Deal.” She releases a small breath I can feel hot against my chest.
With my chin atop her head, we simply stand together. No expectations. No needless chatter. Just her and me and the acknowledgement I’m just trying to be a good friend and a decent human right now.
“Will you tell me what happened?” I ask, and she leans back away from me so she can tilt her gaze toward mine. I instantly miss the warmth of her body.
“Am I allowed to say I don’t want to go into details?” Her tone is soft and her voice is small. It’s so… sad.
“You’re allowed to say, or not say, anything you want, Sawyer. I won’t push either way.”
She searches my face, and her beautiful eyes move with smooth ease over me before she sighs heavily and covers the blue irises with her lids.
“It’s really close to my brother’s birthday, and sometimes that just… hits me out of nowhere. I’m embarrassed it happened in front of you. I’m usually good at handling it.” She drops her head down and looks at her feet.
Placing my finger under her chin, I tip her head back to find her eyes again. “Don’t hide from me, you don’t have to, and never, ever apologize for missing your brother.”
Her bottom lip starts to tremble ever so slightly, and she tries to look down again, but I tighten my hold on her chin just enough to keep her exactly where she is.
“You make me nervous,” she whispers softly, “in a good way, I think.”
I can see the nerves etched all over her face.
The racing pulse in her neck, the red flush to her cheeks, and the smattering of goosebumps on her chest are all telling me what I need to know.
They are telling me I want to close the few inches of space between us and kiss the sadness right off her tear-soaked lips. They are telling me if I were to try, she’d let me.
But that would make me an asshole, and that’s something I promised her I wasn’t.
“Do you have plans tonight?” I ask her, as I push a bit of her hair out of her face.
“Besides grading papers over a bottle of wine and a pint of ice cream? No.”
“While that sounds riveting, I’d like to cash in date number two. What do you say?”
For the first time since I’ve seen her today, her eyes light up in happiness.
“I say that sounds perfect.”
“Can I come pick you up this time?”
“Are you going to kidnap me and hold me against my will in your car?” She smiles at her joke.
“That comes later. I can’t tell you all my secrets up front, can I?
Chapter 8
Sawyer
I didn’t technically lie to him, did I?
My brother’s birthday is coming and that agony truly comes out of nowhere sometimes, and the last thing I wanted to do was say I was thrown into a panic attack because I saw pictures of house fires.
Because that makes me seem crazy.
He didn’t tell me where we were going, he just told me to dress comfortably and casually, so I chose my dark wash jeans that make my thighs and ass look good and a white flowy tank, topped with a nude cardigan.
That must have been the right call because when he knocks on my door at promptly 7:30, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact he is staring at me.
“You look… wow.” He takes my hand and kisses the top, just as he did at the end of our first date. I never thought swooning was a real thing, but two dates with Isaac proves me wrong.
“Thank you. You look pretty wow yourself.”
And boy does he, in those jeans and black tee that hugs his muscles just right. It looks so good it should be illegal. No one has the right to be out in the world looking like that. It’s unfair.
“Shall we get going?” he asks.
“Absolutely.” I close the door behind me, making sure it’s locked, then turning back to face him. “Are you going to tell me where we are going?”
“Well, I will give you a hint.”
He takes my hand and walks with me stride for stride all the way down to the driveway to his waiting very large truck.
“Hit me with it. I’m great at guessing with hints.”
We pause on the passenger side and he opens the door for me to climb in.
“This date is a classic.”
I huff and roll my eyes. “That’s your hint? It’s so broad!”
“That’s the point.” He closes the door and comes around to the driver’s side.
“There are so many classic dates.”
“But this one brings out true colors. Are you very competitive?”
“I will fight you to win, regardless of what the competition is,” I say, mostly joking, but not really.
He tosses his head back and laughs. “Perfect.”
***
“I haven’t been bowling in years, literally.
The last time I went, I think I was fifteen or sixteen, and it was because I was invited to a boy’s birthday party. I had a crush on him, so I wanted to impress him. I wore my favorite miniskirt and the cutest shoes.” I plop down on to the vinyl-covered, sofa-style bench at our reserved lane and hold up the rental shoes. “I didn’t remember we had to wear these monstrosities.” I toe my white Vans sneakers from my feet and pull the bowling shoes on. “There I was, trying to be cute, in a miniskirt with clown shoes on.”
“You should have worn a miniskirt today. Who knows, maybe skirts and bowling shoes are my thing?” He grins at me, before bending over to tie his shoelaces.
“Trust me, that’s nobody’s thing.”
The red sofa is in the shape of a U with the computer in the middle for us to input our names and to keep score. He’s sitting on the other side, directly across from me, but soon he slides around in front of the monitor.
This particular bowling alley is one of the most popular in the area apparently, because every single lane is occupied with couples, families, and groups of friends of many different ages. The skid, whirl, and crash of the balls sliding down the lane and colliding with the pins, mixed with the wide variety of pop tunes blaring from the overhead speakers, makes me feel like a carefree teenager again.
“What should our names be?” he asks, angling his gaze toward me.
“We wouldn’t just use our real names?”
“Nah, where’s the fun in that? They go up on the big screen above us so everyone can see. Let’s make it interesting.”
I smile and tap my chin. “How about I pick your name and you pick mine?”
“I like the way you think.” He places his fingers on the touch screen, hovering them for a moment while he thinks, and then he finally types something out. “Perfect.” He leans back in his seat with a proud as hell grin on his incredibly handsome face.
I look up at the screen hanging over our lane and burst out laughing.
“Wanda Wannadoher? Oh my God, what are we? Fourteen?” I shake my head.
“It’s funny and you know it.” He’s smiling like a boy who is thrilled with his joke. It’s pretty adorable.
