“I know who you are,” he says, picking up the tomato I just dropped and placing it in his tote bag.
Eloise, the worst friend in the entire universe, does notsave me. She puts her phone to her ear. “Oh, hello, Mother!” she says, with exaggerated brightness. “How lovely of you to call on this glorious fall morning!”
“Your mom is on safari in the middle of Kenya right now, you cunt,” I growl from between clenched teeth. “You haven’t been able to contact her in weeks.”
She waves at me and Mr. Flores, walking away backwards, smiling and nodding and pointing at her phone. “No way! Lions? Warthogs? Meerkat?!” she yells.
“Those are the animals from the Lion King, you traitorous bitch!” I yell back.
I turn back to my principal, who is currently staring at me, head tilted and slightly horrified, as if he has just found a long hair in his lunch.
I smile my unhinged Cheshire Cat smile at him. “So… come here often?”
He hums in his throat, turning back to his precious produce. “Every weekend.”
“Do you live nearby?” I poke.
“Few blocks,” he answers.
“You like to cook?”
He grunts. We’ve gone from diatribe lashings to two words responses to guttural noises.
“You seem like the type of person who likes to cook,” I say, desperate to fill the space. “You seem like the type of guy who likes precise measurements. Orderly steps. Control over your craft. Predictable final results.”
He stops what he’s doing and stares at me again, the surprise in his eyes returning.
I smile. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
He huffs, walking over to the cashier to pay for his items.
I follow like a desperate puppy.
“Ms. Baker, I’d like to remind you that the last time we saw one another, you yelled at me. Your boss. You said that Iwas…” He pretends to think. “One of those administrators who couldn’t hack it as a teacher.”
I scream internally. “Listen,” I pull him aside by his arm. He flexes involuntarily, and I am shocked and appalled to find that the bicep currently encased in flannel is rock fucking hard. “I really wanted to apologize to you yesterday, but I didn’t see you all day, and you weren’t in your office when I left school.”
He raises a thick eyebrow.
I sigh. “I am truly sorry for what I said. It was completely out of line. This new job… it’s brought up some stuff for me, and I lost it. But it was totally inappropriate. You’re my boss. I should never speak to you that way.”
He remains silent. I take my sunglasses off, so he can maybe see how sincere I’m being.
“I am really, really sorry. I love working at PS 2, and I’ll do anything I can to keep this job.” I’m trying to toe the line between staying professional and straight up getting down on my knees and begging.
His eyes search mine, the same color as the honey being sold at a stand next to us. “You know, I wrote you a third letter.”
My heart drops. “And?”
He looks away, silent for a few moments. “I ripped it up. You’re a good teacher. You…” He shakes his head, turning back to me. “It wouldn’t make sense to write you up or fire you this far into the school year. You’re too valuable to our community at this point.” He starts, as if he didn’t mean to add that last part. “At least that’s what the team thinks,” he adds, backtracking.
Relief spreads through my limbs. Something shifts in Oliver’s eyes after he sees the look on my face. “Thank you,” I whisper. “You won’t regret it.”
He maps my face for half a second. Then he clears his throat,serious again. “I also owe you an apology.” He looks directly into my eyes, and I am both surprised and elated. There’s nothing more satisfying than a man making full eye contact while saying he is sorry. “We got off on the wrong foot, and I take full responsibility. I am your boss and your superior. My behavior and my attitude were unacceptable, and I apologize if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form. It will not happen again.”
Am I…wet?
“I am not normally so condescending, or at least I try not to be. I am not quite sure why I was towards you.” He turns his head now, his eyes distant. “If you haven’t realized, I require a certain amount of organization in my life. Control. Perhaps the condescension was a response to not having control. Or feeling a lack of control when it came to you, at least. But it’s no excuse. I’ve been an arrogant asshole, and I’m sorry,” he says, looking directly into my eyes again.
