I stood in my classroom and looked at the desks, the crafting supplies, the empty cubbies. I’d been here since seven, even though school didn’t start until 8:15. I felt horrible…but not hungover. Just tired.
I wasn’t hungover because I hadn’t been drunk last night. I had gotten into bed with Garrison Nash while I was of fully sound mind, I’d saidyes.Repeatedly.
I wanted to say yes again.
Nope. No way, Margot. Get it together.
I’d told myself I got here early because I wanted to rearrange the reading corner, which I’d done, and then un-done, and then re-done approximately the way it had been before. I’d also reorganized the crayon bins by color, updated the attendance board, watered the plant on the windowsill that didn’t need watering, and eaten half a granola bar standing over my desk without tasting any of it.
I was thinking about my lesson plan for today, which involved a unit on community helpers —oh no— and whether I should move story time to before lunch instead of after, and whether Rosie Sullivan was going to try to eat the glitter glue again.
I was not thinking about the way Nash had looked at me over the bar with those hazel eyes like I was something worth paying attention to. I was not thinking about his hands. I was not thinking about any of the specific things those hands had done, or the things he’d said, or the way he’d saidthere you go, sunshinelike he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it.
I smoothed down my skirt.
It was a good skirt. Professional. Appropriate for a kindergarten classroom. It did not in any way suggest that I had spent the night in the apartment above Rick’s Bar doing things that were completely incompatible with my continued employment at Juniper Falls Elementary.
I heard footsteps in the hall.
My heart rate went from zero to catastrophic in about half a second.
“Knock knock,” a woman’s voice said.
My eyes shot to the door and I caught sight of the office admin—Delia Jones, who’d started here about a year ago. She was the closest to my age of anyone else at the school, and she’d made attempts to invite me out…but honestly, she’d always seemed like she was looking for a wingman, and I didn’t want to make Bryce worry.
Bryce.
Oh god, Bryce.
“You good?” Delia was asking, brow furrowed.
She was wearing this green wrap dress that made me feel underdressed even though I’d spent twenty minutes picking myoutfit, holding two coffees and a folder and somehow making it all look effortless. Her black hair was immaculate, tied into a messy half-up
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. “Just…long night.”
She nodded, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized me. “Mmhm…” she said. “Well, I just wanted to tell you we’ve got an absence today—Theo Briggs, stomach thing. Mom called it in.”
“Awesome,” I said. “That’s okay. He eats glitter glue every day anyway…honestly, that’s probably why he’s sick?—”
I paused, my eyes darting up to her.
“Is there something on my face?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, no,” she said. “You’re just—you’ve got this…glow to you or something.”
I felt my face go red immediately.
“It’s the lighting in here,” I said. “These fluorescents are?—”
“They’re the same fluorescents as yesterday,” Delia said pleasantly.
“I tried a new moisturizer.”
“Uh huh.” She tilted her head. “Look—Maggie, I’m not trying to pry, but did you get laid? Is yourboyfriendin town?”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
