“And I can’t imagine the male population of Camellia High isn’t infatuated with you by now,” he says with a smirk, but his expression shifts. “You’re not wearing anything too sexy or revealing, are you?”
I blink. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’m pretty sure everything I own is relatively modest.”
He leans back as his gaze runs over me, making it harder for me to breathe. I’m wearing a sleeveless dress today, but I’m pretty well-covered.
“You could add an extra layer, like a sweater or something, just to be safe,” he says, his voice thick. But his eyes are still locked onto my shoulders. I bring my attention back to the flower in my hands when I feel my cheeks flushing.
He clears his throat and adds, “Not that you’re doing anything wrong. It’s just … teenage boys are pretty disgusting.”
I nod, but I can’t bring myself to look up at him. For some reason, I feel more vulnerable right now than I did when I was standing in front of him in my underwear the other day.
“Daisy, have any of them said something to make you uncomfortable?” he ventures after a while.
I shrug. “Nothing all that bad. I just pretend not to hear them.”
“They haven’t threatened you or anything, have they?”
“No, of course not,” I say, shaking my head. “They’re immature, but I don’t let any of it bother me, I promise.”
He grunts. “You ought to tell them you’re JD’s cousin or something, call him to your classroom the next time they start talking shit. I mean, isn’t that his job?”
My brow rises. Last I checked, asking JD for help equated to pushing one of Landry’s buttons. “I can’t call the assistant principal for every little thing. They’ll think I’m a pushover and spread the word that I can’t handle them myself.” I lift my chin as I say it, hoping it makes me look more confident than I feel.
“Hmm. You may be right,” he admits.
“I’m not as dumb as you think,” I murmur.
He frowns. “I don’t think you’re dumb. I just hate the idea of you getting bullied or objectified by a bunch of punk-ass teenagers.”
“That’s why I wanted to bake those cookies, you know, to give JD an excuse to stop by my classroom throughout the day. I figured it couldn’t hurt to make the kids think he might pop in unannounced,” I say, hesitating before I add the next part. “And I’d never crush on a married man, for the record.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, either.” He pauses and lets out a breath. “The truth is, I got really scared when you didn’t answer me yesterday afternoon. All of these horrible scenarios started running through my mind, like you’d had a seizure and hurt yourself and the students were making fun of you instead of helping …” He shakes his head when he trails off, and my chest tightens when I imagine him sitting in his car stressing over my safety while I was wrestling with the copy machine. “I debated going inside to check on you, but I didn’t want to embarrass you. Then I felt so stupid when you came out, even though I was relieved to see you were fine, and I let my frustration get the best of me … just like I always do.”
I instinctively reach out to place my free hand over his, and I’m surprised when he doesn’t flinch or pull away from the contact. “I’m sorry, too. It was careless of me to leave you hanging like that, especially when you’re already worrying about your sister. I should have known you’d be easily agitated.”
His mouth turns up on one side. “I’m always easily agitated. In case you haven’t noticed, that’s kind of my thing.”
I let out a soft laugh. “You know, you’re not always the grouchy, old grump you promised you’d be. I think you just let yourself get worked up because you carry so much weight on your shoulders.”
“Maybe,” he chokes out after a while.
“Then you shouldn’t waste your energy worrying about me so much,” I say, glancing down at our hands.
“I can’t help it.” He shrugs and looks up at me. “Rowan’s always treated me like a brother. That makes us as good as family, right?”
“Right,” I reply, tugging my hand back and forcing a smile.
“I’ll try to be better about not letting my anxiety get the best of me and not snapping at you every time I get overwhelmed.”
I swallow hard. This apology is getting much heavier than I expected. “And I’ll try to be more considerate, especially about giving you your space when you need it.”
He nods. “Thank you.”
“What if we tried to split more of the chores? It might make things easier if we weren’t doubling up on some things and trying to work in the same space.”
“Like when you offered to take over laundry duties?” he asks.
“Sure.” I shrug. “I don’t mind doing dishes, either, or cleaning the bathroom, since my hair’s always clogging the drain. And I’ll take care of the gardening, obviously.”
