Page 67 of Textbook Romance

‘It is,’ he says, looking down at it.

‘That’s old school,’ I tell him, my grin making my cheeks hurt.

‘In return, I was hoping you could help me.’ A group of students walk past my room, and he immediately stands up.

‘Mr Damon, of course,’ I say, trying to remain calm. ‘Was it a maths related problem?’

‘More of a teaching one. I was hoping you could show me something.’

He needs to stop smiling at me. I need to stop visualising this man naked. I’ve seen him naked. There was a point where I had his penis in my mouth. A blush rises in my cheeks. I take my bag off, putting it on a nearby desk and walking over as casually as I can to put my coat and scarf on the back of my chair. As I do so, his arm brushes mine and I momentarily stop breathing.

‘Can I ask what’s in that cupboard? To the back of your room?’ he asks.

‘Oh, it’s stationery. Books, paper. I have a very good guillotine in there.’

‘For paper?’

‘Yes. For paper. The one for heads is over in History.’

He laughs. ‘Do you possibly keep a supply of paper clips?’

‘Paper clips?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I guess we could take a look?’

He nods.

I walk over to the cupboard and allow him to follow, feeling his presence behind me. As soon as I close the door behind us, he turns my back on to it, and kisses me, intensely, passionately. His lips are pressed firmly against mine, hand to my inner thigh. And all good sense leaves me completely as I kiss him back, allowing him to push his body to mine, feeling the warmth of his skin on mine, that faint spark that always sits between us ignited. He pulls away and leans his forehead against mine.

‘Good morning, Mrs Swift,’ he says, breathily.

‘Yep,’ I say, unable to return the greeting.

‘I know I said the copiers but it’s busy in there and I don’t think I’d have been able to do that.’

‘That.’

I seem only capable of answering in monosyllables at the moment. He sighs and tenderly kisses me again before scanning the shelves and picking a jar of paperclips, throwing them in the air and winking at me.

‘Just what I needed. Thank you, Mrs Swift. I appreciate it.’

‘You’re very welcome, Mr Damon. I have lots of paper clips if you ever need them.’ I exhale, trying to retain some sort of sensible calm but laughing under my breath.

‘I see you also have a lot of protractors.’

‘Did you have angles to measure?’ I ask him.

‘Always.’

And with that he comes in for one last kiss before pulling away and I feel his hand leaving mine.

This is awful. This is what we tell the kids not to do – the ones who couple up and rendezvous by the toilets, by the bike sheds – and suddenly I realise I kissed this man by the bike sheds, too. I’m regressing into my youth, I need to remember how old I am. I mean, I know that because I feel that even more when I’m with him, but I need to remember my codes of teaching and how to be a responsible adult. This is why when I am on school grounds, I should always have some level of good sense. I am a mother. No more. I step back from him and take a deep breath to compose myself.

‘Paperclips,’ I whisper for no other reason than it’s the only word I can think of at the moment.

He laughs and I push at the door but as I do, I’m very conscious of someone standing in there, waiting for me. Shit. I shut the door pretty much in Jack’s face so he can’t follow me. That can’t happen. You stay in the cupboard with your paperclips. Having to think on my feet, I grab at a box of glue sticks.

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