Claire
By Friday, I was the best kind of tired. My legs ached from standing all day, and my mind was mostly settled from analyzing students and their thoughts.
Grateful, I dialed Mary on my Bluetooth while pulling out of the staff lot.
“What’s up?” Mary answered on the first ring.
“I wanted to say thanks…honestly, this week has been a game changer. I needed this.”
“Eh, cut the emotional BS, Claire. I needed a teacher, and you did it. I still wish you hadn’t.”
I pulled my car into the lot of the local coffee shop—a blessing and a vice. My plan was to forgo dinner, get a giant vanilla-ish whatever and an even larger icing-covered pastry, and spend my Friday night reading on my back porch with Smitty.
“For whatever it’s worth, Mar, I appreciate it. I like working. It’s good for me.”
I didn’t mention my student—Abbie with an ie—or my time with Aiken. Under no circumstances did I utter a word about my plans to stay in by myself on Friday night.
“Well, for whatever it’s worth, I’d rather you pick your sorry ass up and go to Tahiti. Get the hell out of here, fast and furious, without a glance back. But that’s me.”
My car was dinging, reminding me to check the backseat, as I turned the engine off, yet Mary’s words were clear as always—go live.
“I think I hear one of your kids yelling for you…probably needs something important like help flushing the toilet.”
“You don’t have to make an excuse. I love you. I’m glad you’re happy to be back. But what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t speak my mind?”
“A good one?”
She cackled. “You’re funny. Go do your thing. Talk later.”
She hung up before I could say bye. As I swung my sandaled feet out of my car to go get coffee, I came toe-to-toe with a pair of heavy boots. Startled, I threw my head back to see who was there and ended up smacking the top of it into the doorframe. “Ouch.” My hand met my scalp, trying to massage away the sudden soreness. A sea of blue filled my vision, and the pain was instantly forgotten.
“Claire, you okay?”
I nodded, still rubbing the back of my head. “What are you doing here, Aiken? And what kind of shoes are you wearing in the middle of the summer? It’s hot as hell.”
He leaned down, on his haunches, and I couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t one bit strained or pained or anything. His forearms rested on his quads, and he stared right at me.
“You mean my shitkickers?”
Both our gazes fell down.
“Yeah, your shit…kickers.” I nodded toward the obscenities in question.
“I don’t know. I kind of missed them, so I stuck ’em on to go see the dairy farm and left them on to hit the store. Felt like home.”
God, he’s so cute.
“And you decided to get coffee in them?”
He stuck his hand out, presumably to help me out of the car. Surprisingly, I didn’t resist, and my fingers tangled with his.
At first, I hoped he didn’t let go. Then, I wished for other parts of ours to tangle.
Or not.
“Promise not to get mad?” His fingers squeezed mine. One pump, two, a third.
I felt my eyebrows lift. “Do I have to?”
