Page 21 of Touch Me

“Everything is good. Love the school, love my boss, love the kids.”

“That’s great, Al. I’m so happy for you. Heard anything from Mom?”

“Nah. I don’t even think she has my number, or knows I moved an hour away.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“There is this really hot fifth-grade teacher, though. I’ve been making eyes at him in the teacher’s lounge.”

“Making eyes?” I scoff. “What are you, ninety?”

“Well, you know. It’s long looks across the room, eye contact that lasts a little longer than what’s appropriate. It’s a sound description.”

“Is he single?”

“No ring on his finger, but he’s pretty new to town, so none of my coworkers know too much about him. That slut that teaches kindergarten better not get her claws in him.”

She groans, and I giggle. “If she teaches kindergarten, I doubt she’s a slut.”

“Oh, she’s a slut, all right. Low cut tops and short ass skirts. I mean, who wears that to teach five-year-olds? And she’s always batting her eyelashes at any guy who will look her way. She went up to the wrinkly, old music teacher and adjusted his tie and whispered in his ear. She’s just gross.”

“Sounds like it. And she’s molding the psyche of young girls. That’s frightening.”

“Yeah. Anyway, how’s it going with sexy pants?” she croons.

“He’s not sexy pants—oh my god, you’re the worst,” I groan.

“He so is.” She giggles. “He was always a cutie. I bet now he’s all hot and buff.”

“You’re not wrong. But it’s not like that. He seldom talks to me and looks at me even less. This is just temporary anyway. As soon as I get a paying job, I’m out of here. My internship starts Monday. It can’t come soon enough.”

“That bad, huh?”

I absently pick at a loose string on the comforter. “It’s just awkward. I’ve never had to be the bold one. If I didn’t say anything to him, I bet he would go days without speaking. I don’t know how silence is less awkward than talking, but that’s what I’m dealing with.”

“Well, a lot of fun can be had without speaking.”

And cue the Jace and Shaky imagery.

“Not a chance. Did you miss the part about him not even looking at me? And every time our hands even graze, he runs from the room like his ass is on fire.”

“Maybe you make him nervous?”

“Everything makes him nervous. I’m kind of a shy person, but his anxiety makes mine look like an ice cream social.”

“Who’s the ninety-year-old now?” She chuckles. “Ice cream social?”

I scoff. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, maybe he needs a little rump shaking to quell his nerves.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too. Gotta run, the kids are piling in. Just wanted to say hi. Keep me posted on the new job.”

“Ok, love you.” I hang up the phone and plop back on the bed.

So, now what? Do I sit in here and avoid him all day? Or act like nothing happened?

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