Until December (Until Her/Him #8)(41)

Shit.





Ten


December

HEARING SOMEONE SHOUTING, I pull my eyes off my students, who are all turned to face the door, and frown as I walk across the classroom. Not sure what is happening, I turn the handle and peek out into the hall, seeing Jetson—one of the fifth grade teachers—arguing loudly with the assistant principal, Gladys.

“Lower your voice, Mr. Jetson, and please go to the principal’s office,” Gladys says, and he glares at her then storms off.

“What was that about?” I look across the hallway at Tasha, another first grade teacher, and shrug. “Hopefully, he’s getting fired. He’s such a jerk,” she whispers, and I don’t agree even though she’s right. Mr. Jetson is not a teacher I would consider friendly, and I’ve overheard his students complaining more than once about how hard he is on them.

When Gladys goes into his classroom, I step back, shutting the door and turning to face my kids, who all look nervous. “Everything is fine,” I assure them then look at the clock, seeing we have twenty minutes before the day will come to an end. “Since we don’t have much time left, how about we play Heads Up Seven Up until the bell rings?”

At my suggestion, the tension in the room eases immediately and each and every one of their faces lights up with smiles. I pick seven kids at random then call out “Heads down, thumbs up.” All the kids still sitting in their desk lower their heads and close their eyes while the kids standing walk around, tapping thumbs at random. When the seven kids I chose go to the front of the class, I call, “Heads Up Seven Up,” and the kids all lift their heads. One by one, they try to guess who tapped them, and if they guess correctly, they trade places with that student.

Five rounds later, the bell rings, and the kids quickly pack up, get in line at the door, and then greet their parents when they come in. Once they are all gone, I pick up the classroom and wipe things down with disinfectant. I gather my stuff from my desk, along with my planner and a stack of spelling tests I need to grade tonight. Normally, I set my weekly lesson plan on Sunday, but staying at Gareth’s last night threw me off my schedule, so I need to get it done this evening. I leave the school and start through the teacher’s parking lot toward my car. Digging through my bag for my keys, I don’t see the car racing toward me until a loud horn honks and tires skid across the gravel lot.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going!” Jetson yells, rolling down his window, and I start to open my mouth to tell him to slow down, but before I can he peels off, causing dust to fill the air and tiny rocks to fly out around me.

With my hands trembling and my heart beating wildly, I shake my head then glance both ways to make sure there aren’t any more cars coming before I rush to mine and get in. Once I have the door closed, I pull out my cell phone, and even though I don’t like being the kind of person to tell on someone, I know I need to call the principal to let her know what happened. Hopefully, she will tell Jetson he needs to slow down when he’s near the school, even if there aren’t normally kids in the teachers’ parking lot. I get off the phone with her a few minutes later after she assures me that she will have a talk with him, and by the time I put my car in Drive, I’m not shaking like I was. I go directly to the drug store, and when I arrive, my cell phone beeps telling me I have an incoming message.

Dinner tonight?

I stare at the simple text from Gareth then look through my windshield at the drug store I’m parked in front of and close my eyes. Last night with Gareth and his boys was perfect, and waking up this morning in his arms was something I could seriously get used to. That said, I’ve been thinking all day about what Mitchell said, about wanting a sister or more specifically I’ve been thinking about Gareth’s reaction to the statement.

Logically, I know it’s way too early in our relationship—or whatever this is—to be thinking about children, but I can tell that, where my feelings toward him are concerned, I’m already falling. And after spending time with Max and Mitchell, I know I could easily fall in love with both boys. But at the end of the day, I do want kids, and if Gareth doesn’t want more, I don’t know if it makes even a little sense for us to keep seeing each other.

Busy tonight, another time? I stare at the text after I type it out, feeling my stomach turn as my fingers hover over the Send button. Pressing Delete until the words disappear, I know I’m totally screwed. What time?

Six. Bring stuff to sleep over.

My heart pounds. I can’t sleep over. I need to catch up on some work tonight.

Bring it with you.

I let out a deep breath and try again. I don’t feel right leaving my cat alone so much.

I stare at my phone, waiting for him to reply, and then jump when it suddenly rings and his name appears. Sliding my finger across the screen, I put it to my ear. “Hey.”

“Do you really have a cat, or are you trying to get out of staying with me?” he asks, sounding like he’s fighting back laughter.

“I really have a cat.” I roll my eyes, wondering who would lie about having a cat.

“Where was he the other night?”

“I didn’t say he likes me enough to be around me,” I grumble.

He starts to laugh. “You could bring him with you tonight.”

“I’m not bringing my cat to your house.” I balk at the suggestion.