“It’sclearlya mistake,” I said, moving closer, the energy between us cracking with tension. It wasn’t often I could feel someone’s dislike for me, but this time, I tasted it with each hard look he tossed my way. “Why would your supplies say Carter on them?”
“Because my name is Carter Christopher, I go by Christopher.” He rolled his eyes, like I should’ve known that little anecdote.
“Again, how the hell is this my fault that the teacher store mixed up orders? Do you have my box then?”
“Hell no. They handed me a receipt for three hundred dollars. I wasn’t gonna pay that for a bunch of unnecessary junk. Teaching should be about learning, not all the extra nonsense I’msureyou have.” He eyed my outfit, stopping at my shoes before he shook his head and went into his room, not offering another word or explanation as to why he was acting like a total jerk.
My vision blurred with anger as I stormed into his room, pointing my finger at him from my position near the door.
“I need that back so I can return it and get the stuff I ordered,” I said calmly, quite impressed I was keeping it together.
“No. That’s a waste of time. They’ll end up here anyway,” he said, unloading the folders and setting them in a bin on his desk. “You’re getting worked up over this.”
Oh my God.
I clenched my teeth together and fought the urge to chuck the stapler resting a foot away from my hand at his face. “Christopher,” I said, my voice low and laced with poison, “give me my stuff back, so I can get a refund.”
He stilled, ran a hand over his jaw, and narrowed his eyes. Disbelief crossed his face before he went back to unloading the box. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine. Figure it out. Now, excuse me. I’d like to get my class ready for students.”
“With that?” I jutted my jaw toward the box, and his face hardened.
“Yes. I don’t have tobuymy students into liking me.” He tilted his head, his meaning crystal clear.
I bolted from his room, not because he dismissed me,again,but because the temper and anger that took over my body was so foreign, it startled me. He was playful, sweet, and patient when we were together. Nothing like this irritation.
I didn’t get angry here. My classroom was where I escaped the pressures of my life, not lived them. The shift was unsettling, and I sat in my chair, rubbed my temples, and took a few sips of tea. It was cold now, but the calming herbs helped me settle down and rationalize what the hell happened.
Christopher hated me, that was clear, and I had no idea why.
Chapter Two
In the morning,APD texted me asking for a favor—he’d ordered a large box of bagels from a place a block away from my apartment.” He’d already paid for everything—he just needed me to pick them up because his kid had gotten sick. It was no big deal, and I added an extra box of donuts for our team. Meeting with the other first-grade teachers was my favorite time of year because we could share ideas and align our plans, and I refused to let thoughts ofhimintervene in my happy place.
The first trip from my car was to the teacher’s lounge, where I set the box of bagels on the staff table and placed the napkins next to it. It came with an assortment of cream cheese, and I set them all out.
Once it was in order, I picked up the box of donuts and hummed as I left the teacher’s workroom and stopped mid-step when Christopher stood on the other side of the door. He laughed at something Kennedy, a fifth-grade teacher, said, and seeing a smile stretch across his face sent a wave of lust through me. He was so dang good-looking and that smile…whoa.
He mumbled something that sounded like “see you later” to her when his gaze landed on me, and every ounce of joy evaporated. His lips went into a flat line, and his face hardened as it dropped to the box in my hands. “Figures.”
“What?” I snapped back, blinking a few times to see if I imagined the look of loathing coming from him. “Whatfigures?”
He shook his head and scoffed, brushing by me and into the workroom without another glance. The interaction bothered me, again, and it was difficult to mask emotions when I continued to my classroom. His accusation made zero sense. He figured what? I liked donuts? Who the hell didn’t?
His attitude wasn’t my problem, and life was too short to worry about other people’s actions. I couldn’t control them, no matter how much I wished I could.
I put my hair up into a messy bun and opened my boxes of supplies and started decorating before our grade-level meeting. I chose purple and turquoise for the year as our classroom colors and spent way too much time cutting out stars and shapes to hang around the room. The behavior chart was up and straight, the carpet squares organized by color, and each student had a cubby hole in alternating colors. Content with my design, I played some Taylor Swift and lost myself in the process until Maggie poked her head in my room with a toothy grin.
“Gilly, oh, your room looks great!”
“Thanks, Mags.” I beamed at her. She reminded me of my mom, who I missed since she and Dad decided to travel the world, and I eyed my watch. “Shoot, our meeting starts now, huh?”
“Sure do. In here is okay, right?”
“Yes. I printed an agenda, let me go get it real quick. Sit down. Have a snack.” I pointed to the box of donuts.
While my teammates never questioned why I always brought them food, they certainly never complained. She clapped her hands and waltzed over to the snack area while I sped out of my room toward the teacher’s lounge. It was a quick trip, and I grabbed the copies, stapled them, and smiled as I filed them in bright-turquoise folders. I loved getting packets ready for the team. Pride filled my chest as I put a laminated cheat sheet in the front. It had all the important numbers and emails for them, and with a smile on my face, I made my way back to my room.
My heart pounded against my ribs when I approached my doorway and found Christopher laughing with Maggie, Marisa, and Maria—the other three members of our grade-level team. He had that huge smile and had them in giggles, and I dug my nails into my palm. Did they not realize he was a jerk?
