Page 11 of Along Comes Trouble

TESSA

“M s. Morgan?”A little hand shoots into the air. “It’s reading nook time .”

I look up from my lesson plan and glance at the clock. “Well, would you look at that! It most definitely is time to climb into our book .”

The children cheer. Each and every one of them. Even the ones who came into my class dreading anything that had to do with books or reading. I consider that a huge win, especially this early in my teaching career .

While they scurry from their desks into the reading nook, I take a moment to collect myself. Again. All I can think about is Sarah and her super hot, but super confusing brother. If the moment of gratitude Colton showed me at Smitty’s wasn’t enough to make me question if I’d misjudged him, the fact that he gave me his sweatshirt at the game did the trick. It did get cold that night and I was toasty warm, tucked in his sweatshirt, wrapped in his scent which I found intoxicating despite my best efforts otherwise. And somewhere in that stadium sat Colton, cold because I wasn’t. The gesture meant a lot to me, even if it did come from an insufferable beast of a man like him .

Claire holds back the door to the nook, a filmy curtain I created out of sheer fabric, glitter, and Christmas lights. Reese plugs in said lights while the rest of the class claims a reading buddy from the box of stuffed animals I have in the corner. They curl up on the plush carpet while I sit in a rocker and flip through Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone to find our place .

I lose myself as I read, doing my best to instill a sense of magic and wonder in the children by using a different voice for each character and pausing for effect during the dramatic parts. Not every child will leave my classroom a devoted reader, but that doesn’t stop me from needing to try. Even if the only thing our twenty minutes of reading time does is give the kids a chance to disappear into their imagination once a day, I still see it as a step in the right direction. People expect children to be little adults. I want to give them the freedom to dream .

A knock at the door interrupts me. “Ms. Morgan ?”

Twenty-four little heads pop up and turn toward the voice .

I put my finger in the book to hold my place and stand. “Yes?” I gingerly step around my students and poke my head through the curtain to find one of the office ladies—Cassie or Kelsey or something like that—with her arms full of flowers and two nondescript pastry boxes .

“These came for you.” She looks more annoyed than anything, so I step out of the reading nook and hurry over to her .

“Wow.” I frown at the gorgeous bouquet hiding most of her face. “Who could these be from ?”

She gives me a withering look as she hands things over to me. “Listen,” she says, quietly. “This is just friendly advice from one woman to another. Colton Carmichael is a lot of fun and knows how to make you feel like you’re something special while you’re with him, but he’s nothing more than sweet words and empty promises. I wouldn’t get your hopes up if I were you .”

My stomach dive-bombs at the sound of his name. I force a smile at…Cassandra! That’s her name!...and try to blink away my surprise. “Yeah. Thanks for the warning. There’s nothing going on between us, though .”

Cassandra raises an eyebrow that clearly means yeah, right, then saunters out of the classroom without saying anything. Why in the world would Colton send me gifts? I take the flowers and pastry boxes over to my desk while several heads appear through the curtain .

“What is it, Ms. Morgan?” asks a little boy, his words whistling through his gap-toothed grin .

“I don’t know yet.” I open the card and read through Colton’s messy block letters .

I’m really sorry for spilling my load (ed nachos) on you. ?? I hope you were able to enjoy the game anyway. I know you said it wasn’t my fault, but I still feel bad, so I thought some donuts and flowers might help make up for my mistake. Or, if not that, they might at least convince you to return my sweatshirt, which I’d really like to have back soon. It’s my favorite. Here’s my number. Text me to make arrangements .

-Colton

M ore and more students climb out ofthe nook, eyeing the pastry boxes hungrily while I read the letter. “Looks like Claire’s uncle brought us all treats.” I fold up the card and stuff it back in its envelope .

Claire emerges from the nook, her little brow furled and confused. “He did? Why ?”

How am I supposed to explain this to her when I barely understand it myself ?

“I think he just wanted to brighten your day with a surprise,” I say, as the rest of the students climb out of the nook to investigate. It’s a flimsy excuse that doesn’t explain the flowers, but hopefully the kids will be too distracted by donuts to wonder about the bouquet taking up most of my desk .

I pass out the treats to a very excited class of seven-year-olds (dipping into my just in case stash of allergen-free goodies so those with sensitivities aren’t left out) and then take the leftovers across the hall to share with Faye’s class. By the time everyone’s done eating and cleaning sticky icing from fingers and faces, we’re ten minutes late beginning our science project .

I finish the day trying to see around the giant bouquet of flowers. They’re beautiful and smell so heavenly, I smile every time they catch my attention—which is pretty much the entire afternoon because they’re constantly in my field of vision. The kids spend the rest of the day content and happy. The sweet surprise and break in routine ended up being way less of a hindrance than it looked like it would be at first .

After the students are safely settled in the cafeteria for lunch, I return to my classroom and pick at my food. Confusion over Colton and his motivation for the gifts has left me without much of an appetite. Or maybe that was the two donuts I had this morning, although more than likely, it’s a combination of the two. Faye pokes her head through the doorway while I stab at the salad I packed myself, wishing it was another donut instead .

“Hey you,” she says, a wide smile on her friendly face. “I came by to thank you again for the donuts, but now, after seeing those,” she indicates the flowers, “I just want to know what in the world is going on. Did you finally meet a wonderfully boring man to sweep you off your feet ?”

“It’s nothing like that.” I wave her in and she perches on the edge of my desk. “I can’t unravel it all, Faye. I am so confused and am in desperate need of advice .”

Faye leans over and smells the flowers, smiling at their sweet perfume. “You, my friend, are in luck, because I excel in the advice giving department .”

“The donuts and the flowers? They’re from Colton.” I let out a short puff of breath through my nose .

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