AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do you want to elaborate on the answer you gave? We were playing a part, right? Making it good for TV.”
“Were we? It seemed oddly specific.” I don’t know why I’m pushing. I don’t know what inside of me is craving to hear more from him. I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, so to speak.
“What do you want to hear me say? That you affected me—in those white jeans and flowery top, seeing the light in your eyes when you talked about your students? Yeah, it affected me. You have the same spark for your work that I do for mine. It’s rare to find that in people. Everyone is so jaded, not finding the value in what they do. But you do. You care about your students.”
I sit there, stunned at the outburst. It’s more than I expected from him, but the truth of it pierces me.
“I love teaching. I’ve always known I was going to be a teacher. My goal is to be a head classroom teacher this year. I applied, but I haven’t heard back yet.”
“Well, if anyone deserves it, it’s you.” He nods toward me before taking another drink of his lemonade. Our glasses are almost empty, both showing the liquid courage we needed to get through this with each other.
I’ve never felt this magnetism before, this all-consuming need to delve deeper into someone, to figure them out.
“Thank you. That means a lot. It’s taken a lot of effort to be able to teach at such a prestigious elementary school, so if they keep me as an assistant, that’ll be okay too.”
“No, don’t think like that. Don’t be complacent. You know the work you put into your job, and if you think you are worth being a head classroom teacher, then believe that you will be.”
“What an optimistic statement.”
“I’m a doctor, a surgeon. It’s in the job description to be optimistic. I go into every surgery with the expectation that it will turn out exactly how it should. There’s no room for doubt. I’m not an idiot though. I know things happen—and will happen—and I prepare for them. But I don’t consider them until they happen.”
He seems far away as he’s talking, staring out at the back of the yard, and I wonder what he’s thinking about. It’s almost like he’s not talking about work anymore.
“Vicky told me you had a wife—”
“She what?” he cuts me off, his head whipping around, and I know then that I shouldn’t have said anything.
“Nothing. Never mind.” I shake my head, but he sits up, swinging both legs to face me and placing his elbows on his knees as he leans toward me.
“No. What did she tell you?”
I feel like a chastised child by the tone of his voice and the barely concealed anger behind his clenched teeth.
“Not much. Just that you had a wife who left.”
“Why was she talking about that? It’s personal and not something you need to worry about.”
“I’m not worried about it. I just wanted you to know that you could talk about it if you wanted to.”
“I don’t want to.” He stands abruptly, drink in hand as he looms over me. “Don’t bring it up again.”
With that, he strides inside, leaving behind a chill that causes goose bumps to break out across my skin, even in the humid summer heat.
I wake up, bleary-eyed, my throat dry and screaming for some water. Thankfully, I put a glass on my bedside table last night before going to sleep. It seems that staying up and drinking more vodka lemonade while watching a movie by myself wasn’t the best course of action before another morning of filming.
I didn’t see Simon again once he left me by the pool, and I was okay with that. I doubt any other interactions between us would have been anything less than explosive.
I drag myself to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and brush my teeth while I wait for it to warm up. I know I only have a short amount of time before I’m supposed to be in hair and makeup. I think it’s silly that they expect to do our hair and makeup before filming. Aren’t they trying to make a reality show? My reality is that I don’t put makeup on every single day. Hell, some days, I can’t remember if I actually ran a brush through my hair.
Once I’m done getting ready, I run downstairs to see that everything is already set up and waiting for me. Simon’s chair is empty, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m still not sure I want to see him, and my guess is, he doesn’t want to see me either. I was nosy and encroached on his life—a place I had no business being. I should apologize to him today.
“I think we should go with the dark brown eye shadow today, really bring out the blue in your eyes,” the makeup artist, Pat, says to me, but I’m not really listening.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Whatever you think is best.”
My eyes catch movement in the doorway, and I find Simon standing there, typing briefly on his phone before he glances up, finding my gaze. His eyes narrow, and my fear is confirmed. He still doesn’t want to be around me.
I try not to wilt under his flashing eyes, and finally, he looks away, back down to his phone.
