Page 29 of Tangled

It’s still dark outside when I approach her classroom, the glow of the lights through the windows helps to light up the sidewalk as I stride along. The small rectangular window on her door gives me a sneak peek into her room, where I’m greeted with her back to me, those curves that drove me insane covered in dark denim and her body draped in an Emerson Falls grey and red staff t-shirt. Her long red hair is softly curled and falls down her back, which sways ever so slightly as she writes something on her whiteboard.

The memory of her bent over in front of me from Friday night wakes up my conscience, instantly rushing blood to my crotch.

Fuck. I can’t go in there with a semi. I close my eyes and think of my wrinkly old Grandma, butt-naked.

Yup, that will do it.

Fully flaccid again, I twist the handle of her door and step inside, glancing around the room. The space is so much brighter than it was when Mr. Kirk was here. She’s obviously spent time in the last week making her classroom look appealing and functional, full of bright colors and features in the room that help a classroom run efficiently. Only another teacher could appreciate her file folders on the wall for missing assignments, the baskets for collecting work, and the station full of staplers, three-hole punches, and hand sanitizer for students to use.

“Hey, Theodore. Let me finish this really quickly and then I can help you with your Calculus,” Olivia shouts over her shoulder with her back to me, finishing up a graph that she’s drawing on the board.

She’s obviously expecting a student right now, not me—but that just gives me the opportunity to surprise her a bit.

“Nice curves,” I tease as she flips around so fast the marker flies out of her hand, her eyes wide when she takes me in.

“What?” She looks at me like I’m crazy, but then her eyes narrow into those slits that she gave me that first night. There’s the fire again.

“Are you serious right now? Are you actually hitting on me after the way you acted the other day?”

I shake my head, grinning from ear to ear. “No, actually I was complimenting your graph. Even as a history buff, I can appreciate the curves on a polynomial function.”

The disgust on her face quickly falls away, replaced with astonishment. “You know what a polynomial function is?”

“Yup. Contrary to what you might think, I was actually quite the brilliant math student. But history just seemed like more fun to teach.”

“I can’t argue with that. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I was thinking choosing to teach math. The pressure, the kids that come in lacking basic number sense, the tests and impossible standards to cover… I should have just taught P.E.”

Her sarcasm makes me laugh, clutching my stomach a bit while I take her in some more. Then I remember the reason why I’m here.

“Um, this is for you.” I offer her the coffee, reaching out to meet her hand while she takes it from me. Our fingers lightly brush against one another as she receives the cup, looking down at our connection, then back up at me. There’s no denying the spark we both feel. I remember vividly what it was like to be skin-on-skin with this woman.

“Thanks?” She says as more of a question, clearly confused about my gift.

I clear my throat before standing up tall so she takes me seriously. “I, uh, owe you an apology.”

“Really?” She lifts an eyebrow at me while placing a hand on her hip.

“Yeah. I was an ass the other day and I’m sorry.” I let out a long breath before continuing. “You didn’t deserve that. And leaving you with a jammed up copy machine is like the worse thing a teacher can do to another teacher.”

She chuckles and then takes a sip of the coffee. “I expect you should know better than that. The rage that overcomes you when the copier isn’t working is a feeling only another teacher can understand.”

“Yes, I know. So, again, I’m sorry. I figured some extra caffeine on a Friday should help smooth things over between us.”

“It’s definitely helping. Although,” she turns and walks away from me towards her desk in the front corner of her classroom, picking up her own Venti Starbucks cup. “I always get myself Starbucks on Friday too… so I guess I’ll just be extra energized today.”

“Shit. I’m sorry…”

“No, don’t apologize, Kane. You didn’t know. But hey, I guess great minds think alike. I always treat myself to Starbucks on Fridays. The extra caffeine is necessary to get through the last day before the weekend.”

“Exactly,” I agree while appreciating the small smile on her face.

“Thank you… for this,” she gestures with her cup and then lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry I wasn’t very nice to you too. Seeing you here was the last thing I was expecting.” She directs her gaze away from me, showing me yet another side to her—remorse.

“Psh… tell me about it. So, you were expecting Theodore this morning? Is that Theodore Scranton?” I ask, desperately wanting to change the subject and move on.

“Yes. He’s such a nice boy. A little awkward, but borderline super-genius.”

“Tell me about it. I have him in AP US History this year. The kid is like a human encyclopedia.”

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