To my utter astonishment, he bows at the waist.
“I am Sorren Valdren, heir to the White Warren.” He straightens. “And you, Nora Hayes…” His gaze sharpens. “You are here to save me.” Then in a softer voice, less formal, he adds, “Please, I need your help.”
That’s when I hear my boyfriend’s voice, from down the hall, call out, “Nora? Are you still in your classroom?”
Saren, or Soren, or whatever his name is—his eyes widen slightly. “I should hide.”
Two steps and he’s at the storage closet by the door. The one where I keep my coat, purse, and the vacuum I use to suck up glitter and construction paper scraps. He presses a finger to his lips in ashhgesture and folds himself into the closet with surprising ease. The door shuts. Not quite all the way. An inch-wide gap remains.
“Ah,” Seth says, as he steps into the room. “There you are.”
My attention snaps toward him.
Seth.
My boyfriend of six months.
He teaches fifth-grade math and is new to the school this year, the only male teacher on the staff. I’d been flattered when he started complimenting me. Said he liked my blue eyes. My yellow dress. I’d been even more flattered when he finally asked me out.
Overall, it had been…fine.
I mean, sure, Seth isn’t the best listener. And there was that one time he stood me up to go drinking with his buddiesbecause he “lost track of time.” And yes, he does have a habit of correcting my grammar in texts.
But still, he’s handsome. He has a stable job. He talks about becoming principal one day like it’s inevitable.
On paper, we make sense.
I open my mouth, ready to tell him about the naked man hiding in my supply closet, when Seth claps a hand on my shoulder. “Nora. We need to talk.”
My stomach sinks, right down to the floor.
No conversation in the history of conversations has ever ended well after those words.
“Why?” I ask, and I hate the slight waver in my voice. “Is it about this weekend? Easter at your parents’ house?”
I’d been so excited to finally meet his family. It felt like confirmation that this was going somewhere. That we were serious. That I might finally see a deeper side of him, one I’d been hoping existed.
As much as I love being independent and teaching, I’ve always wanted a family. A big one. Kids running around, yelling and making a mess while my imaginary husband and I look on fondly.
I’d convinced myself Seth could be that man.
“I don’t think this weekend is such a good idea.” Seth walks over to one of the children’s desks and takes a seat. It should look ridiculous, a grown man folded into a tiny plastic chair, but at five-six he almost fits.
I follow and drop into the seat next to him. I have to turn sideways, my knees bumping the underside, my feet sticking out into the aisle. At five-nine, I’ve always been on the taller side.
I once asked Seth if the difference in our height bothered him.
He’d shrugged. “It’s fine. You can wear flats. No heels, though.”
At the time, I’d thought it was nice. That he was secure. Now, sitting here with my knees jammed against chipped laminate while he occupies the space comfortably, I’m not so sure.
“It’s not a great time to meet my family,” Seth continues. “I think maybe we need to take a pause.”
“A pause?” I echo faintly.
“Yes.” He nods. “A pause in our relationship. It’s become too comfortable. Predictable.” He hesitates, then adds, “Boring.”
Ouch. That last one hurt.
