Page 53 of Interpreter

It’s like Tim knows he’s fucking sexy and he’s taunting me with every twitch of his gorgeous face.Okay, really, Milah? He could be a really nice guy and have no motivation but to give his coworker a pleasant smile. I’m sure his smile is not to be interpreted that he wants to rip your clothes from your body and bang you right here on last week’s quizzes. So what if he’s smiling at you, Milah? People smile at other people. It’s no big deal. Drag yourself out of the gutter.

I return Tim’s smile with a nice,I am your coworkersmile and pull my hands to the front, praying he doesn’t shoot down what I have to say. It really would be a terrible way to start the morning. I’m hoping he’s going to flash me that stupid-hot smile that shows his teeth and says,“Sure, Milah. I would love to come. You’re super-hot, and I’d like to bend you over the barstool afterward until we both end up sweaty and spent on the floor.”Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t want to end up on the bar floor. It’s really gross. The point is: It’d be really nice to have one of those enlightening stretches over a barstool. I’m kidding. I think it’d be just super awesome to see Tim’s body in raw form. I’m sure it’s epic.

“So, um, it’s Friday.” Oh my stars in heaven.Of course he knows it’s Friday, Milah. Everybody knows it’s Friday becauseeveryonehas on jeans. Except you!Ugh. I shake off the mist of hotness this man is creating around me, making me all awkward. “So,” I start again, “I thought, since we’re coworkers and, you know, a team for the rest of the year—”Still sounding stupid, Milah. Come on! You can speak three languages! Why can’t you form educated sentences to this man?Because he’s hot, okay? And when he stares at your lips, caressing the movement with his eyes, it flares some shit up. Shit like tingling that has no business in the workplace.

“Oh my God.” I sigh. “I’m fucking this all up.”

Truly. I should just let it go. Tim and I don’t have to be pals. We just need to be cordial. Inviting him to Felipe’s is a bad idea. A colossal bad—holy hell! Was that a—“Are you laughing at me?”

I really don’t care that he’s laughing at my blubbering. All I care about is that he keeps doing it. Have you ever heard a song that gave you goose bumps? I shit you not, I just got chills when he laughed all soft, husky, and melodically masculine as that big hand scrubbed across his face as if he tried to mask the sound. He probably should mask it. A little louder and Gretchen might hear, and if she gets an earful of that—there will be no stopping her from barging in here to witness it firsthand

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles from behind his hand, his eyes dancing with laughter. He’s not sorry. Not even a little bit. His voice is rich and thick when he sobers. “Why are you so nervous?”

I scoff. “I’m not nervous.”

A lone brow raises.

“I’m not nervous. I’m overcaffeinated.”

The corner of his mouth tips up, a tiny twitch threatening to burst into a smile. It’s not cute. It’s orgasm worthy and the main reason why I look away, lifting the hair off the back of my neck, eyeing the poster of Costa Rica on the wall. Abuelita would be so proud that I’ve represented my country in this classroom. Why is he still staring at me?

Maybe because he’s waiting for you to finish your super-awkward question?

Ahh!

“Anyway, my friend, Felipe—”

“Just ask me the question, Milah.”

Oh mercy. He used that voice again. You know the one I told you about? The one when he uses my name and it tickles my ovaries? Yeah, that one. The one where he whispers my name as if it’s heated and intimate—and it’s just my name. When Abuelita says my name, my body doesn’t go all crazy and seizure-ish inside. No, it doesn’t warm me like when I would lay topless on our back deck, the warm breeze a feather kiss against my skin, the sun a blanket of warmth. Yeah, check please. This girl needs an M&M and a cold shower.

Just ask him the question.

“Sometimes the teachers do stuff together away from school. Like, you know, getting to know each other and all that. Like team bonding! We do that a lot around here.” And I hate every minute of them. Trust falls and building the best paperclip tower is not what I call great bonding activities.

“Team bonding? You want to bond with me?” His lips twitch. Ha ha. He’s hilarious. And sexy because the way he said, ‘You want to bond with me?’ sounded like he interpreted that statement way more sexually than I meant it. Not to say that I would be opposed to his type of team bonding.

“Well….” I swallow harshly, only slightly imagining what that type of bonding session would be like. “Look, I just want to be friends. We’re working together for the rest of the year, and I don’t want things to be strained between us. I’m not a Thursday night happy hour person like a lot of the teachers here. My friend, Felipe, owns Magic Michelle’s—” I narrow my eyes at his grin. “—which is not a strip club nor my secondary place of employment.”

Is he amused? Is that why his smile seems tight? Is he holding back a laugh? Ugh. Whatever. I am doing a nice thing, and after today, I’m never doing it again. I don’t care what Pe says. One friend is enough.

“So, your friend owns Magic Michelle’s.” He lets that grin loose, and I have to look away until he adds, “Which is what, if not a strip club?”

“It’s a piano bar!” I say, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “And sometimes we do karaoke when it’s just the regulars.”

Tim’s face turns serious. “You frequent the bar often?” Is that concern I detect in the tic of his jaw? Surely not.

I wave him off. “Duh. Did you not take me there yesterday?” My eyes narrow to slits. This man and his assumption of me being a stripper. Let’s clear that up now. “I live above the bar with Felipe.”

No, that definitely wasn’t concern. The muscle in his jaw is still ticking. Maybe it’s a nervous tic? Like when your eyelid twitches? No? Is that just me?

“Felipe is your boyfriend?”

This time, it’s me who laughs all loud and crazy. He thinks—another fit of laughter takes me before I can finally pull myself together. “Felipe is not my boyfriend. In fact, the reason I’m inviting you to this little nightmare is because he andhis boyfriend, Marcus, are celebrating their third year together. This party is how they celebrate.”

I lean back in my chair and cock my head to the side. “You can invite your family if you want. Felipe likes a big audience.”

And I figured if Tim was unsure, having his boys might help. He hasn’t been super social at school, but he’s getting better. And he’s the most social when he has the little girl. And I’ve also seen him smiling at his phone while he texts. I’m betting that I’ve yet to get to know the real Tim.

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