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I scan her features. Given that it’s been over a decade since I last saw her, I must admit she hasn’t changed a bit. I lie, “Yeah, it’s going to be so great.”
“You excited about the new school year?” she asks.
I exhale. “I think so. Just a little nervous.”
“Me too. Always the back-to-school jitters.” Samantha points as she walks over to the classroom across from mine. “Well, let me know if you need anything, teaching bestie. I’m just right across the hall.” Not sure if I’m cringing more at the fact that she’s directly across from me or at her use of the word “bestie.”
I nod with a smile as I remind myself that as much as I dread change, I’m excited about the possibilities of a new school year. I still don’t know if teaching is for me. These past years have been nothing but hard, but one thing I know for sure is that it always puts a smile on my face to get to see and meet my students. Just like any toxic marriage, that’s really all that keeps me being hopeful and hanging on—the kids.
My classroom door closes behind me, and I can already hear chatter down the hall. I make sure the room is still set up and turn on my laptop and projector before Meet the Teacher Night officially begins.
When I prop open the classroom door, a family is already right there waiting to enter. The minute I see the adorable little girl with them, I can’t help but smile.
“Hi there, welcome in! I’m Ms. Cu—oops, sorry.” I shake my head and chuckle. “I’m Ms. Parker. What’s your name?”
“Mikayla. Are you a new teacher here?” she asks, her large brown eyes looking at me inquisitively.
I laugh before responding, “Well, it’s more like a yes and no. I haven’t taught here yet, but I was a student here when I was your age. Since this was my elementary school too, this feels like home.”
Mikayla’s grin widens, introducing me to her neon pink braces. They make her even cuter. “That’s awesome!” She exclaims.
I see a line forming behind her, which urges me to end the conversation so others can come in. “Well, come on in and make yourselves comfortable. There are some pages of information at the table over there, and then you’re free to take a seat anywhere you like.”
I stand near the door with my welcoming smile as more students and parents file in. In the most natural way, my shoulders drop, and my jaw unclenches. I can feel the anxiety fade more with every student who enters, bringing a little more comfort and familiarity to my heart. My cheeks are warm from the adrenaline.
Another family approaches me with a question about riding the bus. I don’t know a thing about the bus transportation routes and routines, so I say, “You know what, I’m not really sure, but let me write that down on a sticky note so I remember to find out for you.”
I make my way closer to the table on the opposite side of the room where I’ve stored post-it notes and pens. The family follows me, so I try to keep a reasonable pace. When I arrive at the table, I grab a pen from my favorite hedgehog coffee mug and jot down the reminder. I look up, letting them know I’ll be in touch with them as soon as I find out more information. My watch buzzes, alerting me of a phone call from a number I don’t have saved. I quickly hit the button to silence the notification, returning my focus back to the family. They thank me a couple more times when my gaze flickers to the familiar figure at the door. My body tenses and butterflies fill my stomach.
There he is—my first love. The first guy to ever break my heart.
Zayn Mitchell.
His eyes meet mine. Here he is, standing in my classroom with a shirt tight enough in the arms to showcase ripped biceps and pearly white smile that hasn’t changed since I’ve last seen him over a decade ago. The scruff on his chin makes me wonder how it’d feel to kiss him now. Liam has always been clean-shaven, so I wonder if scruff would bother me or if I’d like it better. My heart stops beating for a second.Get it together, Autumn.
The realization sets in. Zayn is here. AtmyMeet the Teacher Night. The audacity of this guy.
Ugh. Damn it.What is he even doing here?My face flushes and my body trembles. I feel weak, and not just in my knees, but all over my entire body.Autumn, breathe. Quit being so nervous. Just approach him already and kick his butt outta here!
I wade through the sea of people entering my classroom, faking smiles and politely saying, “Excuse me.” Confusion cuts through the room as parents wander around in search of their child’s new teacher. But my focus remains on getting over to Zayn. I have to know why he’s here right now and let him know—however obvious it might feel to me—that he shouldn’t be here right now.
His smile grows larger as I approach, but my blood starts to boil more the closer I get. I cross my arms, staring at him for a second. He doesn’t say a word, just keeps showing off those ridiculously perfect teeth.
“Um . . . hi,” I say. My hand makes its way to my hip.
“Hello, Ms. Parker,” he playfully responds by adding emphasis on my maiden name.
The familiarity of his voice heats my body, a mixture of nerves and rage all rolled into one. “Oh my God,” are the only words I’m able to spew from my mouth.
He laughs. “Nope. Not God. Zayn, remember?”
I scoff and slightly roll my eyes on the outside, but inside, my heart thumps loudly. It’s so loud I can hear it pounding in my ears.Oh no!Can he hear it?My face flushes more.
As that perfect grin of his grows wider, I can’t help but smile back.No, do not smile at this jerk.My mouth doesn’t want to listen though. Years ago, he ended things without a true explanation. Well, a lousy excuse, in my opinion, anyway. One minute we were in love and ready to ride out our four-year plan of attending college and living together. The next, he decided to stay here. In this godforsaken town. Going against the plans we made together. No further contact. Nothing. More than anything, I still want to be upset with him—maybe throw something at him or just run away—but I’m pretty sure the parents here would not be impressed to see their child’s new teacher do either of those things. What could he possibly be doing here?
“Well, Autumn—err, Ms. Parker—you look . . . amazing. Good to see you after all this time.” He clears his throat while loosening the inside of his collar as if wearing an imaginary tie. “How are you?” he asks in his smooth, deep voice. I could listen to it all day. Even after all this time, it’s so comfortable to me, like hearing an old song you once loved playing on the radio.
My mouth opens, but not a single word exits. Instead, a million questions flood my mind—What is he doing standing here, on such an important night for me?Did he seriously come here to see me after all this time? To what—talk things over?
