“Thanks, Ms. Carter.” He leaned on my arm for a second, and I let him.
I felt Christopher’s gaze, and I looked up to find him watching me with an odd expression. It wasn’t quite a smile, and it certainly wasn’t joy, but it also wasn’t anger.
The fact he wasn’t scowling at me was so unsettling.
I didn’t get time to ask him why he was watching me because Dave came on the speakers and announced we had to wait another five minutes before returning to class. My legs shook as the adrenaline needed an escape, and I tapped my feet on the tile in a rhythmic beat.
“You’re scared of storms.”
I slid him a warning glance and jutted my chin at the kids sitting next to me. It was a major no-no to look scared in front of them because it would set them off. One time, I cried because my hormones were out of control, and it made four of the kids cry. They fed off my emotions.
I kicked him in the shin.
His mouth dropped in shock, and I snorted.
“You just…kicked me?” he said, his eyes wide as a stop sign. “What the…?”
“I’ll do it again if you put my fears out in the open.” I wiggled my foot in his direction again, and he moved his leg out of the way. “That’s right. Fear me.”
“You are too tiny to be feared, Martha Stewart.”
And our little truce—if it was even a real one—was over. I masked my face and sat up straighter, giving him my back and zero of my attention. I’d rather count the individual bricks lining the walls than talk to a man who hated me as much as he did, and it was time I stopped caring.
“Ms. Carter, what is a cloud?”
“A cloud is a collection of tiny drops of water or ice crystals, Jimmy.”
“What is rain?”
“Water that falls from the clouds.”
“What are coconuts?”
I snorted.
A small chuckle came from the beautiful grump I was trying to ignore.
“Coconuts are from palm trees and are kind of like nuts.”
“What are boobs?”
“Okay, question time is over for today!” I ignored Christopher’s joy. Dave chose the perfect moment to come on the intercom, letting us go back to our rooms. I went rigid when a warm hand landed on my forearm. His hand was large and comforting, andChristopher was touching me.
“Can I stop by your room after school today? I have some questions.”
I took my time sliding my gaze up his throat, over his full lips and day-old beard, and landed on his gorgeous eyes filled with warmth? What? No. Not warmth. That made no sense. Mirth?
“Questions? But you aren’t a first-year teacher. Surely you can figure them out.”
He ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he smiled. “Nice zing, Ms. Carter.”
“Your appreciation is noted.” I clapped and motioned my hands for the kids to keep moving. “Put your books under your desk and start thinking about fairy tales, little ones!”
“So will you be free?”
“As yourbuddyteacher, I have to be.” I refused to look at his mouth again and focused on his forehead. “What is this in reference to?”
“Observation.”
