Page 9 of Wintertime Heat (Holiday 1)

I rest my chin in my hands as I stare at the students, idly. Maybe the reason why I can’t stop thinking about him is because the accident had shaken me at the core. As my heart beats faster, I feel a sense of satisfaction at resolving this issue.

I was extremely nervous while driving to school this morning, my knuckles white as they grip the steering wheel.

A fresh wave of anger rolls through me as it occurs to me that if that rude stranger hadn’t handled the situation the way he did, I probably would not be so worked up over this whole thing.

As I stand up suddenly, my chair falls on to the ground with a loud clutter. I ignore the way everyone looks up, making my way to the toilet, I find myself frowning.

I wash my face with cold water, and as the water drips down my face, I grip the edge of the sink with both hands and study the freckles that are splattered over my pale nose. My eyes are a dark shade of brown, and right now they are filled with indignant anger. My light-brown hair is tied up in a tight bun, and I pull out the pins, watching it unfurl in slow motion. It finally settles at the base of my back, and I run my fingers through it, before deftly tying it into a braid with nimble fingers.

“You’re not going to let this get to you, Abby. And you’re not going to let that asshole get to you!” I growl at my image in the mirror.

Those intense gray eyes flash in my eyes, and I groan.

What was it about those stupid eyes?

Ugh, maybe Scarlett was right. My pathetic love life has started affecting my judgement. The sight of the door opening, had me turn around and I smile politely at the older teacher who nods before going about her business.

I return to the classroom.

The rest of the day passes-by quickly enough and when I find a small dark-haired boy waiting outside my classroom for me, I grin.

Aaron looks so nervous, fidgeting with his hands, his Spiderman bag pack snug on his shoulders.

“Miss Johnson!” His entire countenance lights up as I open the door to let him in.

He has brought his own colour pencils, I note. When he sees me looking at them, he looks excited, “I asked my dad to buy me a new set.”

He shows me the pencil-shaped holder, and I have to withhold my laughter at the pride in his eyes.

“It looks like a huge pencil,” I say, trying to share his excitement. As I had suspected, my acknowledgement of his ‘cool’ pencil box thrills him.

“All right!” I clap my hands, “Let’s get to work.”

I am teaching Shakespeare in class these days, so I had planned to design some swords for some role playing. I already had the cardboard cut-outs, but I needed to colour them in.

I wasn’t expecting Aaron’s delight at being handed a fake sword. When I caught him waving it about, I gave him a stern look, all the while wanting to do the same. I had many little cousins and I used to play with them all the time when I was back home.

“En garde!” I felt the sword poking me in the back, and a wild grin on Aaron’s face.

I was not going to fall for that, I warned myself. We still had three more left to colour in.

“En garde is for fencing.” I tell him.

“Look at me, Miss Abby!”

I didn’t know when he had transitioned from calling me ‘Miss Johnson’ to ‘Miss Abby’ within the past two hours, but I could see that he was having fun. Right now, he was standing on top of my desk, wearing one of the hats the students had brought in for the small role play for tomorrow.

“En garde, you scoundrel!” Aaron cries out, waving his sword about.

Casting a disappointed look at the unfinished swords, I get to my feet, ready to join in, “You’re doing it wrong.”

I pick up one of the unfinished swords and use my wrist to flick it around.

After all, I had a lot of practice.

I could tell that Aaron liked watching a lot of pirate movies with all the phrases he spouted out. For some reason, I was dubbed the evil maiden and he, the brave pirate.

“Ahoy, matey!” He shouts as he clashes his sword against mine, jumping down from the desk at some point.

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