Page 40 of Between the Lines

The second his hand strays, like he reallyisgoing to play with the neckline to my dress, there’s a pounding on the door.

“Hey, Harding? You in there? I think we caught two eighth graders with vapes in the gym bathrooms.”

He parts from me like the drop of a bomb as that wordcaughterupts between us. I don’t know what makes me more miserable: the absence of his touch, or the look on his face that’s stained the color of regret.

“I’ll be right there,” he barks, clearing the gravel from his throat as his voice rises to get past the door.

My legs snap closed immediately, and I hop down from his desk, but as I move to go, his hand flattens to my stomach. I gasp and try to move away, but his desk is at my back, and I have nowhere else to go.

“Wait five minutes before you leave,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. That divot returns above the bridge to his glasses, and in that moment, I notice the fog fading from the lenses from when he’d worked himself up teasing me with that mouth.

I nod, agreeing with that idea because Drake saw us leave together, but if he sees me rightnow, he’s going to put two and twotogether faster than they can find those vapes. He turns to leave, but I call after him.

“Am I… You didn’t…” I indicate to my neck, praying to whoever is listening that myassistant principal didn’tgive me a hickey.

His gaze rakes over me, and IknowI’m imagining the displeasure in his voice when he saysNo.

The door clicks shut behind Nathan, and I suddenly feel like I’m going to throw up. I sink down into one of two leather chairs across from his desk, close my eyes, and take a few deep breaths to regain my bearings. I can’t decide which way is up, let alone what just happened. I know I’ve been feeling a strange pull to Nathan, but I’d convinced myself that it was all in my head. Maybe that’s where it should stay.

nineteen

nathan

The library is quiet today.

That sounds like an oxymoron. The library is quieteveryday. But not quiet like this. Not quiet likenone of my regular opponents are here.

I came here to be distracted by the Tuesday evening regulars, but have been playing chess against myself for the last thirty-seven minutes.

Chess is my activity of choice. It requires brain power and critical thought. It forces you to think several steps ahead, something I’ve trained myself to do anyway since my life turned itself on its head with cancer and death. Chess forces you to see the bigger picture. To meticulously plan, and meticulously back-up-plan.

And, it can be done alone.

My little routine began when I ran out of homework to attend to in college, but didn’t want to be at home. On the nights that my brother’s pediatric oncologist—and my dad’s best friend—Dr. Marty, and his wife June, graciously took Cal so that I could have a free moment for my school work, sometimes, I just needed the time to myself. All the same, I felt as though, without an excuse, I’d be obligated to go back to Cal.

Regret had tugged in my gut that first night that I consciously decided to steal an extra moment for me. And then, like a sign from above, I rounded the corner of the library to a group of senior citizens playing chess.

And just like that, any vacancies in my schedule were suddenly filled.

Tonight, it seems like it’s just me. Ever since Norman had his stroke and went into assisted living, the group has kind of dropped off one by one. I thought we had a decent influx of players, until tonight.

I’ve played two rounds of the game by myself, and am halfway through a third.

I could go home. Could pace around my impeccably spotless house. Could crack open a book or switch on a documentary. I know I’ll be distracted though.

Home without something to do means idleness. Idleness creates room forherto sneak in.

I shouldn’t be thinking about Claire. Shouldn’t be letting depraved thoughts of her fill the crevices of my mind. But I touched her. I put my hands on her body and I put mymouth on her skin, and it’s safe to say the chemistry of my being altered. I know what she tastes like now, what she feels like, and it’s safer if I just stay away. Because now I know what I can never have, and that’s worse than not knowing.

She is my employee. I am her boss. Regardless of her temporary status in our building,I can’t have her. I have to let her go somehow, despite the ways we’ve opened up to one another, despite the way I want to keep going back for more conversation. The deeper I dive into the well of Claire, the more trouble I put myself in. In the grand scheme of things, I can’t put my job on the line for her, can’t put the future of my family’s house on the line for her.

Then why, as I stumble my way around the chess board of mylife, am I still trying to configure a way that, for once in my life, I can have my cake and eat it too?

Of course, in my attempt to distract myself from thoughts of Claire, I think back to when, by happenstance, her sister sat across from me—and nearly gave me a run for my money. I recall how Claire had mentioned her ineptitude for chess, and a softer image of her waves in.

It’s me, giving Claire chess lessons. Her, studying the game because she wants to do well for me. Her, calling me out when I sacrifice an easy move so that she can feel proud, and demanding Igive it my all.

I sigh, shaking my head intensely, becausethis was supposed to be my escape from her.

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