“Hey,” he says, walking into my classroom with a big grin on his face. He’s holding a pot of purple mums. Against all reason I want to walk over to him and run my hands through his wavy brown hair. While I’m doing that, I imagine leaning in and sniffing the side of his neck, and I wonder if he still wears that aftershave that smells like cloves and cinnamon. My mouth waters in a Pavlovian response.
“Hey, yourself.” I point to the flowers he’s holding. “Have you taken up gardening?”
“Nope. I bought these at the store.” Putting them down on my desk, he adds, “They’re a welcome back to Elk Lake High School gift for you.”
Heat floods my face. “Thank you.”
Before I can decipher whether there’s another meaning behind his gift—like are they just a welcome plant, or are there any romantic feelings involved?—he says, “Mums are Lorelai and my mom’s favorite. They seemed fitting for the season.”
That comment makes it clear I’ve fallen into the friend and family category. While that should probably elicit a sensation of relief, it actually ticks me off. Apparently, my younger self is still looking for a different kind of acknowledgment from Noah Riley.
“That’s very sweet of you, thank you. Purple is my favorite color.”
Sitting down in one of the classroom chairs, he asks, “Are you getting excited?”
I tip my head from side to side. “About some things. The class is readingCatcher in the Rye, which is not one of my favorites. But yeah, I’m happy to be here.”
“What’s your favorite book from this age?” he asks.
“Robinson Crusoe.”
“Why?”
Leaning against my desk, I tell him, “The adventure, I suppose. The protagonist wanted a life at sea which was in opposition of the path his parents envisioned for him.”
“Ah, so you’re a rebel. Are you following in Defoe’s footsteps?” Referencing the author of the book, he asks, “He did pattern the hero after himself, didn’t he?”
“It depends on who you ask,” I tell him. “As to my being a rebel, I admit that I’m not currently living the life my mother wants for me. But that doesn’t mean I’m hoping to be shipwrecked on a deserted island or hijacked by pirates.” I feel like I’ve been through enough.
He shrugs his eyebrows comically. Mimicking a pirate’s accent, he declares, “Arrrrrr, I suppose only time will tell. The seas are full of mischief.”
A burst of laughter bubbles out of me. I didn’t realize Noah was such a ham. But I suppose that’s because I never got to know him outside his role as Lorelai’s hunky brother. Our early relationship was more based on me staring at him with enough pent-up emotion to sink a ship. “I’m willing to bet there aren’t that many pirates in Elk Lake,” I tell him. “I mean, what kind of booty would they possibly be hoping to pillage here?”
“It’s the lure of the crappies,” he teases, still with a pirate drawl.
“If you say so.”
Noah changes the subject. “I’m also here because I want to talk basketball. We need to settle on a practice schedule.”
“I’d like for the girls to get in at least two hours a day,” I tellhim. “I know you have the gym right after school, but is there any way we can use it then, too?”
“You only had seven girls at tryouts, right?” I nod my head, so he says, “Then I think they should practice with the boys.”
“Are you sure it won’t be too crowded?”
“Oh, it’ll be crowded, but in a good way.” He explains, “I’m hoping it will incite some healthy competition. I’m pretty sure the boys will want to show off in front of the girls. That alone will force them to work harder than they have been.”
“And the girls already feel like they have something to prove to the boys,” I add. “I like it. It’s a good plan.”
Noah stands up and stretches his arms one across the other. “We can overlap practices on Saturdays if you want. That way we can plot our individual strategies.”
The bell rings, startling me. “Wow, I forget how loud that thing is.”
“I’m off to freshman dodgeball,” he says with a grimace. “Here’s hoping those kids have better aim than they did last week. I took more balls to the head than a blind juggler.”
I watch as Noah leaves my room and wonder at the odd set of events that has brought him back into my life. The life I currently have, thanks to his involvement.
Leah Flynn walks into my classroom with a group of her friends. “Miss Rogers, hi!” Her pale complexion turns pink with excitement. Indicating the girls next to her, she says, “These are my friends, Taylor and Penny.”
