"Yes."
"I'll help you, it's quicker that way."
"I don't need your help."
"Well, you’ve certainly needed my help so far."
He stops suddenly and turns to me, his eyes focused on mine. It's close enough to send a shiver down my spine, enough to see the color of his eyes from up close. Brown with specks of green around his iris.
"You're right, Poppy. Thank you. You've done an amazing job."
You've done an amazing job.
You've done an amazing job.
Just a simple compliment from him creates heat in my belly. I look down.
It's just a very normal compliment in a very normal situation, Poppy, get it together.
I stare at him again, there's something flashing in his eyes, something I can't quite make out.
"Fine. You're right, it'll be quicker that way."
He opens the door to the gym, so much warmer than the freezing cold outside.
"I'll start sweeping; if you don't mind, you could box the leftovers."
"Sure."
There's an urgency in his actions that seems different from before, he's quick to sweep everything and remove any tape that got glued to the floor before helping me box the last of the materials. I guess he just wants to get home as quickly as possible.
"Thank you again for your help, Poppy," he says as soon as we're done, barely glancing in my direction as he grabs his coat, handing me mine, heading to the doors.
What were you expecting, Poppy? He's your professor.
He's fiddling with the lock, cursing so I get closer to try to understand what's happening.
"Fuck. It's locked."
"Want me to fetch the key?"
He pulls his beard hard, biting his bottom lip. "I handed it off to one of you while I was setting the doorstops so the doors would stay open."
"You didn't hand them off to me."
"I know. I forgot to ask for the keys back. Fuck. Now we're locked in for who knows how long, it's Christmas tomorrow, no one is coming. Do you have your phone? I left mine at the office."
"Sure, I've got it here, Professor."
It takes me a while to fish it from my handbag, Professor Blake is looking at me like I've the answer for everything, tapping his foot, making me nervous.
"Oh. It's dead. The battery must've run out."
"Fuck. How are we getting out of here?" He runs his hands through his beard again and again, looking derailed and nothing like the composed man I'm used to seeing.
"It's fine. We'll just stay the night. Won't Carly notice you're not there at the parade?"
"No. I told her I wouldn't come."
