She was trying to slurp down a long string of red pepper when the door opened, but there wasn’t an impatient kid on the other side wondering when she’d get her butt into the gym. There was a man. A blond-haired, blue-eyed, knee-wobblingly delicious specimen of a man, one of the finest she’d ever seen.
He was clearly a mirage. Or maybe she was having a stroke.
“William, I take it?” Pete asked, effectively killing the moment. At the other man’s nod, he stretched out his hand to properly introduce himself. “Pete Derenberger. Welcome to Kendal High.”
While the men exchanged pleasantries, she swallowed down the wily red pepper, set her remaining lunch aside, and sat up straighter. She glanced again at William, noting that although he appeared to be calm and in control, his shifting feet spoke a different story. Couldn’t blame the guy. Walking into a high school for the first time on the opposite side of the authority line was unnerving to say the least.
Pete turned to her then to make the introductions. “This is Rebecca Ledgerwood, fellow Phys. Ed. teacher, and the only person I know who can throw a better spiral than me.”
William gave her an appreciative smile as he gripped her palm in his own. “Will Whitney, former quarterback.”
Warm tingles radiated through her palm, zapped down her arm, and fired sparks to the rest of her body. Touching the man’s freaking hand did that to her. Just his hand. Totally normal. “Good to . . . um, nice to meet you.”
“C’mon and I’ll show you around the school,” Pete said, and she was grateful for the interruption because she hadn’t breathed a full breath since Will Whitney laid those wicked blue eyes on her. “Ledgey has a supervision in the gym. Remember?” He nudged her shoulder.
“Yes, I remember,” she said, shooting daggers at him.
He opened the door for Will to step out, then turned back to Rebecca and spoke in a lowered voice. “You’ve got hummus on the corner of your mouth.”
“Jesus.” Her cheeks burned furiously as she searched for something to wipe her face.
“And a spot of drool on your chin,” he added with a smirk.
“Shut it, Berg,” she fired back, along with a box of tissues. Straight at his big, fat, know-it-all head.
He dodged the flying object at the last second, laughing as he closed the door behind him. The box fell to the floor with a thunk, and then the room grew silent, save for the rapid thrum of her heart.
Rebecca wiped her mouth, horrified by the gob of hummus the tissue collected. She might have noticed she wore half her lunch on her face if he hadn’t come in there looking all . . . older than she expected. He had to be in his late twenties. Maybe even early thirties. Tall. Insanely handsome. Soon to be working in very close quarters with her for the next eight weeks.
And completely off-limits.
Because she didn’t date teachers, and dating a student teacher, regardless of whether he looked like a student or not, was unprofessional.
Sighing in frustration, she collected the remains of her lunch and threw it in the fridge, grabbed her whistle, and headed for the gym.
4
Will followed Pete around like a baby duckling for most of the afternoon. He’d been introduced to the principal and vice principals, the two classes of testosterone-laden teenage boys he’d soon be teaching three days a week, and a handful of other teachers they’d crossed paths with between periods. He couldn’t remember a single one of their names . . .
Other than Rebecca’s.
They’d seen each other all of two minutes, exchanged fewer than a dozen words, but her name, her face, were permanently emblazoned in his brain. The woman was a vision in athletic attire. Every jock’s wet dream come true. Back when he was in high school, roomy tracksuits and windbreakers were the style en vogue for PE teachers. None of this form-fitting stuff. But beyond her killer body, she had a natural beauty that intrigued him. No spray tans or enhancements of any kind. As raw and real as a woman gets, and strikingly attractive.
“So you’re good to do football next week, then?” Pete asked as they locked up the equipment storage room in the gym.
Shaken from his reverie, Will nodded. “Absolutely. I still remember a lot of the drills from my glory days in high school.”
Pete chuckled. “Take my advice and keep it simple. These kids just wanna play, not get bogged down in the nitty-gritty details of the game.”
“Right. Sure.”
Giving him a firm pat on the back, Pete said, “You’ll do fine so long as you remember this school is nothing like the prep school you’re used to.”
Will regretted sharing that bit of information with the older man the very moment it slipped from his lips. But he couldn’t change his past, nor the privilege and pain that came with it. Kendal High was so unlike his own high school it was unfair to even compare the two. Crestwood students had one goal in mind: the pursuit of higher education. Here, maybe a handful of students would go on to post-secondary institutions. Some would go into the trades. Most would fight for minimum-wage jobs, and there’d be a few who’d never graduate at all.
He knew the stats; he’d done the research. His advisor had strongly urged him against selecting Kendal High as his placement school, which was all the more reason why he’d chosen it. He wanted the challenge.
The potential to make a damn difference.
Pete gestured for him to go ahead, then ensured the door to the gymnasium was locked, too. “They’re a bit stingy with the keys around here, but I’ll see if I can get you an extra set for next week. Otherwise, just nag me or Ledgey to let you in the gym or storage area.”
Ledgey. The gruff nickname hardly suited her. No, she was a Rebecca through and through, she of the gorgeous chestnut hair, eyes the color of pecan pie, and fair skin with an undeniably healthy glow, an obvious perk of the job. His mouth ran dry when her other perky assets swam into his mind.
Somehow, they’d managed to make their way back to the PE office. Small school or not, there were enough hallways and corridors to make his head spin. He planned on staying a while longer just to get the lay of the land, with no one watching or leading the way.
Pete jammed his key into the lock, and Will held his breath. Rebecca might be on the other side of the door. God, he hoped she was and prayed she wasn’t. He felt like a teenager again, scared as hell of talking to the prettiest girl and bullheaded enough to try, knowing that if he didn’t, somebody else would get to her first.
Disappointment lodged in his gut as the door opened to a Rebecca-less office. Pete set about gathering up his things, clearly anxious for his weekend to begin, and Will propped himself against the desk they’d designated for him to use while he worked there, if you could even call it a desk. Three of the drawers were jammed shut and the surface looked like it’d been through a war and come out on the losing side. But it was his. And it was right next to Rebecca’s.
“Any questions before I take off for the weekend?”
Snapping his attention back to Pete, Will shook his head. “No, uh, I think I’m good, thanks.”
“You’ve got my number. Just text me if anything comes up.”
“I definitely will. Thanks so much for taking me on and giving me this opportunity.”
Pete let loose with a laugh that ricocheted through the office. “You may not be thanking me later. All I can say is good luck.” He gave him a smile. “Take your time and do whatever you need to do. The office door locks automatically. Remember what I said and holler if you have any questions, okay?”
“Sounds good. Enjoy your weekend, Pete.”
“You too, buddy. See ya Wednesday.”
The door clicked shut behind him. He liked Pete. A bit rough around the edges, but he said what he meant and meant what he said. A genuine guy, a good guy. A guy’s guy. During lunch, Pete had shown him the second-floor classroom where he taught ninth-grade science each morning. Will would be observing him in that class next week and then co-teaching with him the following week. Of course, he co
uldn’t recall the room number or which stairwell to take to get there fastest. Kicking off the desk, he headed out the door to map his route.
Fifteen minutes after the final bell, and the place was already a ghost town. People didn’t stick around on Fridays. Well, he couldn’t blame them for that. At the ad agency, he’d have only put in a half day’s work at three fifteen. Most days he hadn’t left the office till closer to eight, too tired to do anything but peel out of the parking lot and beeline it to the nearest drive-thru serving the crap his latest campaign targeted at teenagers. Greasy, delicious, artery-clogging goodness.
So good it killed.
Taking a shuddering breath, he turned the corner and drew up short. There she was . . . just walking down the hall. And his heart did a little doo-wah-diddy in his chest. Pure elation morphed into alarm when Rebecca wobbled on her feet. His own feet quickly ate up the real estate that separated them, and with one hand under her arm and the other at her waist, he caught her before she face-planted on the concrete floor.
Slowly, once she’d regained her balance, he helped her into a sitting position against the lockers and he kneeled in front of her. Her glassy eyes eventually focused on him, striking him diddy-dumb. “You okay?” he asked, though the question could have just as easily applied to him.
“I, uh . . . I think so. Guess I got a little light-headed there.”
He sat back on his heels. “Is this a normal thing for you, the light-headedness? Any blood sugar issues?”
“No. Not since . . . no.”
Will could sense there was more she wanted to say, but he didn’t press the issue. “When’s the last time you ate?”
Color rose high in her cheeks. “I didn’t get a chance to finish my lunch and had a really busy afternoon . . .” She trailed off as he stretched to his full height. “Where are you going?”
“Sit tight,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He jogged halfway down the hall before he realized he didn’t have a key to get into the Phys. Ed. office. Turning back to her with a sheepish smile, he asked, “Could I borrow your key?”
She yanked on the lanyard hanging from her pocket and tossed a cluster of keys at him, smiling when he caught the jangling ball of metal. “It’s the one with the purple cover.”
“Got it, thanks.” Moments later, he entered the office and made his way to the stash of snacks and juice boxes they kept on hand for students. Pete hadn’t glossed over the fact that some students missed breakfast and some didn’t have anyone ensuring they came to school with a lunch, either. He freed two juice boxes and a packet of cookies from the mishmash, then marched straight out again.
He was pleased to see she hadn’t moved from her spot on the floor, and he eagerly joined her again, this time sitting next to her with his back against the lockers. Passing her a juice box, he opened the packet of cookies, offering her one. He took the remaining cookie and held it up for a toast. She obliged, knocking hers against his, sprinkling crumbs over his pantleg. “Here’s to eating cookies in empty school hallways.”
“Empty except for us, you mean.”
“Right.” He bit into his cookie, suddenly voracious. “I feel like I’m back in high school.”
She tilted her head and laughed, the light and airy sound washing over him like a gentle breeze. “You are.”
“No, I just mean . . . I’m starving. My mom could never keep food in the house when we were growing up. Something about being inside these walls is reverting me back to my teenage self, I guess.”
“Ah, I see.” She took another bite of her cookie and washed it down with a swig of juice. “God, I don’t miss those years,” she murmured.
“No?”
“The awkwardness, the hormones, trying to fit in while simultaneously wishing you were invisible . . .”
“It still feels that way some days,” he said with a chuckle.
Turning to face him, she said, “Just be glad you weren’t the one with hummus on your face earlier.”
He bit his lip, trying to suppress his amusement and feign ignorance instead. “Hmm?”
“When we met? In the Phys. Ed. office?” she asked, growing impatient. “I might as well have used it as a moisturizer.”
Popping the remainder of his cookie into his mouth, he shrugged. “Nah, didn’t see it.”
She leaned her head closer and narrowed her eyes at him, staring him down until he couldn’t help but crack a smile. “You are the biggest liar.”
That, along with a shoulder shove, forced a laugh out of him. He wouldn’t dare tell her about the cookie crumbs in the corner of her mouth. Or how badly he wished he could wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. “Okay, so I noticed,” he admitted. The hummus certainly wasn’t the first thing he noticed, but she didn’t need to know that.
All too soon, however, she seemed to notice just how close in proximity they were. She retreated a safe distance, keeping her gaze trained on him. “Guess we don’t need to get your eyes checked, then.”
Nope. Not unless seeing her face and only her face was a bad thing. He considered that particular form of tunnel vision a blessing. Her hip pressed against his as she wiggled herself back against the lockers. He liked that he had a good six inches on her. Liked that he could smell her shampoo. Some kind of fruity concoction. Mango. Or peach. He sniffed and caught a whiff of strawberry, too.
She shifted again, turning toward him with raised eyebrows. Had she said something?
Right on cue, she asked, “Did you hear what I said?”
“Uh . . .”
“Ah, so it’s your ears that need to be checked.”
Chagrined, he apologized. “Sorry. Would you mind repeating what you said?”
“I asked how your afternoon went. Did Berg give you a proper tour?” She slurped down the remains of her juice box, and he was weirdly satisfied that she’d enjoyed the drink, like he’d done anything but hand the thing to her.
“He did, yeah. That guy sure doesn’t pull any punches.”
She laughed. “He’s one of a kind, but I think he’ll be a good mentor for you. He loves these kids like they’re his own, ya know?”
“I can see that.”
Neither spoke for a moment. Rebecca began gathering up the detritus. Worried she’d think their conversation had run its course and leave, Will scrambled for something to say. “So, any big plans for the weekend?”
“Not really. Just happy to have a little time to unwind.”
He hung on to the “not really” and pondered whether no plans equaled no significant other.
“How about you?” she asked. “Planning on camping out here all weekend?”
He laughed. “I wanted to take a bit more time to retrace my steps. I couldn’t totally remember how to get to the science classroom, and I was on my way upstairs when you, uh . . .”
“Made a spectacular fool of myself?”
He nudged her with his elbow. “Hey, at least it was graceful.”
“Right,” she said. “Well, I should—”
“There’s another reason why—” They both laughed, but she waved him on. “I was just gonna say, there’s another reason why I feel like a teenager again.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh?”
“I’m sitting here in a hallway next to a girl who’s way out of my league and wondering when she’ll figure it out.” The second the words left his lips, he wished them all back. Good Christ, what in the actual hell had possessed him?
A pink flush crept up her neck. “I, um, appreciate the compliment, Will, but we’re both teachers here now. Let’s keep things professional, okay?” She climbed to her feet, making him feel about as small as he deserved. “Thanks again for helping me.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Forget it. It’s cool. Have a good weekend.”
She didn’t even smile before making a break for it. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He knocked the back of his head against the locker to punctuate each internalized expletive. God, she probably thou
ght he was a complete ass. Or a creep. A creepy ass. He wanted to get to know her better, so what did he do? Jammed his big, fat foot into his stupid mouth. He wouldn’t get a chance to make things up to her until he returned next Wednesday. Hopefully, by then, she’d have forgotten their entire conversation. Yeah, not likely. He knew he’d never forget how good it felt to be the guy occupying the space next to her. For that reason alone, he was determined to make things right.
5
Warm beams of sunlight peeked through the trees and dotted the sidewalk with splashes of gold as Rebecca ran the final meters of her loop around town. She adored this time of year, when the trees put on a show with their riotous colors, when the air had a delicious crispness to it like freshly picked apples. She was due at her mother’s shortly to help with some work around the house, but there was still time for a quick stretch and a quicker shower before making the trek.
She pushed hard on the last hundred meters, panting by the time she reached the overgrown front lawn of her bungalow. Her grass was in desperate need of a cut, but as always, her own household chores took second billing.
When she removed her ear buds, she was instantly comforted by the sounds of birds chirping and the tinkling, bell-like chords echoing from her neighbor’s home across the street. Russell Whitaker loved tickling the ivories to ring in each new day. She didn’t mind that he opened his windows to share his gift with the world because the melodies were as rich and pure as his deep, soulful voice. Another reason why she hadn’t cut her grass yet. How could she possibly drown out such a pleasurable sound with an obnoxious one? The retiree had moved in six months ago, and in those six months he’d earned himself the neighbor-of-the-year badge for keeping a watchful eye over her home. He’d often collect packages left on her doorstep, which she’d gratefully accept from him over a glass of sweet tea in his living room. She’d have pegged him for late sixties or early seventies, but the man moved with such grace she wasn’t confident he couldn’t beat her run time.
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