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“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
“It’s fine. Go ahead.” She points at me with a sly smirk. “Keep your eye out for a good prank gift for me.”
“We can meet up by the tree display in the middle when you’re done,” I offer.
“Perfect.”
Leaving Maisy, I tuck my hands in my coat pockets and continue browsing. I’m looking at a vendor with wooden holiday ornaments when I spot Mr. Coleman again at the next booth, enraptured by the jewelry. The necklaces in particular have his attention.
Uneasiness whispers in my mind. Connor swore he was dangerous.
I abandon the laser-cut ornament with baking tools dangling beneath a pie to sneak closer, observing Mr. Coleman’s actions. He touches the jewelry with a meticulous focus, stroking each pendant. It brings up the memory of the necklace Henry planned to send me. After selecting one, he stands in line to pay.
A woman runs the stall, but she hands off Mr. Coleman’s necklace to her teenage daughter while another customer asks her for help. I bite my lip as Mr. Coleman’s eyes light up. He leans closer to the daughter, talking to her. She’s flustered but peeks at him shyly as she packages his purchase. His hand brushes hers as he takes the bag.
The corners of my mouth turn down. Glancing around, I follow him, keeping several feet behind so I can duck out of sight.
Mr. Coleman meets up with a girl from Silver Lake High, a sophomore, I think. She doesn’t seem wary as they chat, but I can’t stop watching. He gives her a serene smile, all his attention focused on her. Whatever he says makes her giggle.
She kind of looks like me. Similar shade of red hair, same white coat I have on today. I swallow as Connor’s voice fills my mind.
He’s so focused on you at school.
Maybe it’s because I’m used to him in one setting and now he’s out of that box that has everything feeling so off. It’s not that he’s doing anything crazy, but now that I’m watching him with Connor’s words in my head, it feels questionable.
He could be Henry. Imagining it sends my stomach into an uncomfortable flip.
I shake my head, sucking in air.
This is ridiculous. I’m hiding behind a large quilt in the middle of the holiday market, stalking my teacher.
I ball my fists, but I don’t walk away, tethered to my hiding spot. Because what if it’s not as harmless as it appears? Henry is in my past, but if he’s not? Then the danger is even more real.
Mr. Coleman gives the bag to the girl. She’s delighted as she pulls out the necklace he bought. She tries to give it back, but he must insist because he curls his fingers over hers, closing the jewelry in her hand.
Without hearing their conversation, I’m jumping to conclusions about what’s happening. Is it the first time he’s given her a gift? Is he grooming her?
I’m lost in my head, but when I zone back in, the quilt hiding me is pulled aside as another shopper debates between two choices. His attention is on me. He caught me. Crap.
Mr. Coleman nods to the sophomore girl and walks over to the quilt vendor before I can brush off following him or give him the slip into another stall.
“Hello again.”
“My mom loves these quilts.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to dive under the blankets hanging around the hut. Curse my nervous babbling.
Mr. Coleman’s brows lift. “Is that so?” He pinches one of the smaller throw sized blankets hanging behind me, reaching over my shoulder to do it. My spine goes rigid. “Ah, yes. It’s made nicely.”
He doesn’t leave, so I’m forced to make small talk as he fondles the blanket over my shoulder. “Are you enjoying the market?”
Mr. Coleman hums. His gaze slides back to me. “You could’ve asked to walk with me if that’s what you wanted instead of following me. There’s no harm in it outside of class, right?”
What? No, that’s not what I wanted. It’s a really odd response. Back at the pool house I wasn’t thinking straight, but face-to-face with Mr. Coleman, I’m on high alert.
The way he’s honed in on me that makes my heartbeat spike in a horrible way. I want to walk away.
“I was kinda wandering aimlessly. My friend is in the bathroom line, but we’re meeting up. I was just killing time.”
He watches me for a long beat. It’s not a fixation, I tell myself, clinging to desperation. He doesn’t have to be Henry. That monster can stay in the past where he can’t hurt me anymore.
