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I set my things down on the desk provided for me. It’s a few feet away from his and significantly smaller. “Is it? Today has passed in a blur.” It’s a Monday. The day has, in fact, crept by. Every minute felt like an hour, and every hour felt like an eternity. It was torturous waiting to get here today.
“You’re early.” Maybe it’s me, but it looks like he’s pouting. His thick bottom lip juts out just a smidge. I want to walk over to him and claim it with my own.
I look up at the analog clock on the wall and see that it says 12:22. The lunch break ends in eight minutes, and with it starts my afternoon gig of grading papers, gathering homework, and chatting with friends when Mr. Pelham isn’t looking. “Oh, hey, it is.”
He looks away. He’s always averting his eyes; it’s beginning to make me self-conscious. “Listen, Danielle,” he starts.
“Dani,” I correct. “Hey, I think I saw you this weekend.”
Holy’s in the middle of opening his mouth to finish what he was saying when I interrupt his thoughts. “Wait. What?” He places a hand on the desk for stability. “When?”
“Saturday afternoon?” I frown as I pretend to struggle with remembering where I saw him. “Maybe Sunday. I’m not sure. You were riding around town, though.” That part is true. Cameron, Esther, and I were eating at Tallgrass Taphouse when a few bikers rode down Poyntz. The patio overlooked the street, and I had a fresh view of Holy Pelham dripping in tight-fitting leather.
Mr. Pelham’s eyebrows raise, and for the first time in days, he makes intentional eye contact. “Yeah. Huh. I guess I never thought about students seeing me out and about.”
I shrug nonchalantly as I slowly place my bag beside my desk. “Who were those guys?”
He’s reluctant to tell me. I can see by the way he suddenly takes a deep breath and looks at his desk. He gathers a pile of papers and starts to straighten them, clearing his throat in the process. “Dani, I don’t think—”
“Sorry if I sound a little nosy,” I apologize quickly, rushing to cut him off. “I just noticed you were all wearing the same patch on your jackets. Which,” I try to regain eye contact, but he’s staring at my throat, “it seemed a little warm out for leather jackets.”
This draws his attention once more, and his shoulders relax. “We wear our jackets so we’re safe on the road. You never know on the highway when someone might cut into your lane or if you’ll hit a patch of bad road that knocks you off your balance. The jackets won’t protect us from a broken bone or anything, but they help against road rash.”
That strikes a chord inside me, and suddenly all I can imagine is Holy’s body sliding hard and fast against the concrete. His handsome face bloody, his arms skinned up and scraped. It sends a shudder down my spine. “The jackets are a good idea,” I agree.
“Do you have an interest in motorcycles?” He mistakes my agreement with his safety plan as interest. But for the first time, he doesn’t look on edge to be around me. Holy’s eyebrows are slightly raised, and there’s a smile on his face. His posture says that he’s open to discussion.
I take a step forward, boldly entering his air space. “It’s on my bucket list to ride one someday,” I tell him with a grin. “But I’m afraid I’m not strong enough.”
Holy sucks in the air between his teeth, and tension settles between us. “They’re pretty heavy,” he agrees.
“I bet you have to have some thick, powerful thighs to tame a beast like that.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. They land with a resounding thud.
Mr. Pelham pulls away from his desk and starts wringing his hands together. I can see a dozen thoughts as they form in the emotions on his face. “Danielle,” he starts again, as professional as ever.
I’m about to be turned down. Again. In the most polite way that Mr. Pelham can muster.
But he doesn’t tell me to back away or give him some space. Instead, he rubs his aching temples before saying, “You have to be careful with words like that.”
A genuine frown appears on my face. “Words like what?” I inch toward his side of the desk—gradually closing the gap between us.
“You know what words I’m talking about,” he says with a stern tone of voice. “You’re going to get us both in trouble.”
My interest is piqued. “What do you mean?” Another inch closer, and I can smell his cologne. It dances through my nostrils and lands on my tongue, the taste of wood and balsam alighting my senses.
Holy lets me get closer. He notices each step that I shuffle, and he allows it. “What you said was inappropriate. We don’t want people to think our relationship is anything other than that of a teacher and his aide.”
But we’re so close that if I reach out, I’ll be able to touch him. To run my hand across his broad, muscular chest. To feel his well-kept beard. To run my thumb across his lip and see if it is as soft as I think it is. “What if I want it to be inappropriate?”
His eyes slowly drift from the floor. Sweet, puppy dog brown eyes travel over my toes and wrap around my legs. I see them linger just below my waist before trailing higher. Each tension-filled second that passes brings us closer to a mistake. And when his eyes finally climb as high as mine, I count to three.
If I can just hold his gaze for three seconds, I’ll have everything I need to move forward. I’ll know that this isn’t just in my head. And I’ll have the confidence to do what I’ve longed to do since I first came to Manhattan High School.
One second. An eternity passes before my very eyes.
Two seconds. I gear up for the moment I’ve spent four years waiting for.
Three seconds. I lean forward and press my lips to his.
