"Why? It's one of Hope Peak's traditions."
"I don't particularly like Christmas. There are better ways to spend my time than watching floats in the freezing cold."
“That's certainly a cynical way to look at such a festive holiday.”
He shrugs, clearly not wanting to continue this conversation.
"My parents are away for the holidays, so no one's going to look for me either."
I encouraged them to go, they won a raffle: a free hotel stay for a couple of weeks.
It wasn’t going to be a problem for me for them to be away. Between the parade and everything happening at Hope Peak, I’ve more than enough going on to get through the holidays without feeling lonely.
He looks up, concentrating, like he’s plotting how to get out through the windows on the ceiling.
"Fuck. Well. We're both tired, so let's think of a plan tomorrow morning. I'm sure we'll figure something out."
That raffle ticket just keeps on giving. First, a free hotel stay for my parents… now, a whole night with Professor Blake.
Chapter 4 - Poppy
I’m not sure what Professor Blake thinks he’ll find in each stall in the locker rooms, but he opens every single one of them. I follow him around quietly as he’s clearly losing his mind. Someone has got to keep it together. And that someone is clearly me.
When we reach the storage room, the last door in the entire gym he hasn’t opened yet, he huffs out a breath.
“I don’t think we’re going to find a key here.”
“That’s fine, we can stay here. It’s just one night, right?”
His eyes shift from side to side, unfocused. He scratches his beard with a force that seems to hurt.
“Right. We should get some mattresses and towels to work as blankets. It’s a bit cold here. Will you be okay?”
“Yes. It’s going to be fine. I’ll grab the towels.”
We head to the middle of the gym with our supplies, where it feels warmer. Professor Blake starts to set up the mattresses, taking a long time making sure there’s twenty feet of space between us.
“Are you building a runway?” I laugh, pointing to the five rows of mattresses, not really believing a grown man like him is actually setting up the space like we both can get electrocuted if we touch.
“No,” he inhales. “I just thought you’d feel more comfortable if there was plenty of space between us.”
I laugh, first because it’s ridiculous. Second, because it’s adorable. I’ve had my fair share of encounters with men who couldn’t care less if I felt uncomfortable. The ones who press their bodies against mine at a crowded bar when there’s plenty of space, or the ones who think it’s perfectly fine to grab my ass in the grocery store. But a man who’s careful enough to line up mattresses for multiple forward rolls in a row? He’s probably safe.
“Thank you, I appreciate that. But there's no need. We're both adults. And it's not very warm. Even with the towels, I think we could use all the body heat we have.”
He stops abruptly, his whole body tense.
Okay, I could've been more subtle. Sue me. I want him to actually see me. See me as a woman, not just a kid.
“Right.”
He rearranges the mattresses now to create a makeshift king-sized bed.
When he’s finished, everything is perfectly in place, the towels aligned like he’s measuring them with an invisible ruler.
He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes before staring at me.
“It's the best I can do given the situation. Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable? I imagine how it must feel spending the night with a man you don’t know.”
