Page 3 of The ABCs of You & Me

“Are slugs particularly bothered by spice?”

I think for a minute. “I don’t actually know.” I giggle. “I think it’s salt they have an issue with.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckles and takes another bite of food while my brain goes on one of its famous tangents.

Why would he need to keep that in mind? Is he going to cook for me again? Not that he cooked for me today but is he thinking about doing it in the future, on purpose? Do I want him to cook for me? I think I do, but should I? How is he so fucking hot? Does he realize? Am I being weird? I’m definitely being weird.

When my mind stops with the grocery list of questions, we fall into an easy rhythm catching up. He’s lived in the city ever since he got home from a year spent teaching English in South Korea. I’m pretty sure Cass had mentioned where he’d gone, but I’d done a good job of quickly forgetting all things Foster-related at the age of eighteen. Self-preservation and all that.

“How did you end up in the city and at this school?” he asks while packing up the containers as we both nibble on our cookies, that he made of course.

“I moved to the city for my undergrad, loved it, and stayed for my master’s. After graduation, I got a job in the social work department, which was fine, despite the fact I didn’t want to be in academia. I wanted”—I gesture around the tiny office—“this,” I say dramatically. “Life changes occurred, and one of my former advisors suggested applying for this position while Hazel went on maternity leave.”

“So I’m more of a newcomer to the city than you,” he says, leaning back in the chair.

“I guess you are. If you need any tips and tricks, I’ve got a few.”

“Such as?” He quirks an eyebrow, and I’m momentarily distracted by the way it arches.

“If you pace it right, you can hit the green light highway when moving across the city east to west and vice versa,” I say confidently.

“That’s literally the only tip people give you when you move here,” he scoffs, and my heart sinks. He’s not wrong; it was one of the first things I was told when I arrived.

“Okay, how about…” My right foot starts to bounce under my desk, and I focus on that instead of the question.

A knock on the door comes before I can refocus. “Come in,” I call, glancing quickly at Foster, who is looking at me, another question on his lips. His stupidly perfect lips.

Principal Wong opens the door and immediately looks surprised when her eyes land on Foster. “Oh, Mr. Walsh, we were wondering where you’d gone off to,” she greets him before turning to me. “I’m sorry, Miss Hore, I should have let you know you’re welcome to join us in the staff room at any time. No pressure of course, but it’s as much your space as everyone else’s.”

“Thank you, I’ll definitely join one day.” I smile up at her. “Fost— ugh, I mean, Mr. Walsh was kind enough to share his lunch with me. Mine is still sitting on my kitchen counter.”

“I can’t think of a better person to share lunch with.” She smiles kindly, looking down at her watch. “Bell’s about to ring, and I’ve taken Mrs. Walker’s yard duty. I’ll see you out there, Mr. Walsh.” She waves and shuts the door.

Foster stands the minute the door closes. “I totally forgot I was on duty today.” He grimaces. “Someone always bleeds when I’m on duty.”

“Bleeds?”

“Lots of bloody noses, unexplained cuts, things like that. Last year, a kid fell off the top of the slide and ended up with a compound fracture. I, ugh”—he rubs the back of his neck, looking at the door—“may have fainted.”

“Mr. Walsh, do you not like the sight of blood?” I tease.

“Does anyone?”

I shrug. “I’m sure some people do. Vampires, serial killers, some doctors maybe.”

“Vampires aren’t real.”

“There are people who identify as vampires because they drink one another’s blood,” I correct, and he stares blankly back at me.

“And with that, I’m off.” He opens the door, his head shaking. “Want me to bring you some lunch tomorrow?” he asks, turning back to me.

I blink up at him, unable to make my mouth move. Do I want him to bring me lunch tomorrow? Teenage me is absolutely losing her shit right now.Say yes, you dummy, he’s practically asking you on a date.“While that’s very tempting, I’ll bring what I had packed for today. Thanks, Foster.” I give a little wave when he nods his goodbye.

After Foster leaves, I rearrange the office because I can’t focus on my notes while this room doesn’t work for me. It shouldn’t take me long between the size and what’s in here, but I don’t like the configuration. In the middle of doing that, I get thirsty and go to fill my water bottle up. Then I get distracted by the art that lines the hallway in the primary wing. I can hear the kids outside playing and wonder how things are going out there for Foster. I can practically see him cheering on one of the kids as they show him how good they are at swinging or something.

I haven’t daydreamed about Foster in a very long time, and all it took was one lunch with him to have me falling back into the habit.You’re over the crush, and even if you weren’t, you aren’t ready for anything.And while my head repeats that reminder, my stupid heart beats to the rhythm ofhe’s here, he’s here, he’s here.

TWO

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