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I answered all her questions, trying to keep myself from laughing at her as we walked.
But before long, she stopped abruptly in front of a chain link fence and turned to grin at me.
Nell’s eyebrows shot out, and she gestured her arm toward the building beyond the fence and called “ta-da.”
I glanced from it and then back to her, confusion roiling inside me.
“We’re at a school?”
She nodded. “Remember that art class I told you I teach once a week?”
Realization hit me, and I glanced back toward the school. “You’re taking me to the class.”
Nell nodded again, a sheepish look suddenly dancing along her lovely features.
“You were so vulnerable with me that night at the museum,” she said, her voice hesitant and soft. “And I didn’t know how to return it. Other than the stuff with my family, there isn’t a lot of stuff hidden in my closets. And you already know about that. But this?” She cast her gaze toward the school, her eyes brimming with affection. “Seeing me teach, being a part of something that means so much to me, it was the only thing I could think of.”
Emotion rose in my throat, causing a lump to form, and I quickly swallowed past it.
“I didn’t tell you everything the other night so that you would reciprocate,” I began, but she quickly cut me off.
“I know,” she blurted. “I know that. But it doesn’t change the fact that you trusted me with something beautiful. And I wanted to do the same for you.”
Nell was blushing slightly, and I couldn’t stop from leaning down to give her a quick kiss. When we broke apart, she gave my hand a grateful squeeze.
“You ready,” she asked, nodding toward the school building.
“Absolutely.”
She dropped my hand as we got close, and I figured it was a good idea. Kids could be relentless, no matter what age. And if they saw a quasi-teacher holding hands with someone, I was sure it would turn them into a pack of hyenas.
“They won’t start arriving for another twenty minutes,” she explained as we walked through the hallways. “School doesn’t let out until then, and they’ll start showing up immediately after.”
I nodded at her, listening to the sounds of teachers droning behind the wooden doors as we passed them.
“How did you get into this?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“Lex is a teacher here,” she explained. “High school English.”
“You know,” I chuckled. “That actually checks out. Sheseemslike an English teacher.”
“Right?” She shook her head and laughed as she stopped before a door and pulled it open.
It was definitely an art room, and easels and supplies were piled in the back along the wall.
“We have to get everything set up,” she explained, pointing to some of the items in the back.
Nell began firing off instructions, telling me what we were getting ready for the students, and we got to work.
I liked seeing her like this, calm and confident. Not that she wasn’t, usually. But this was different, somehow.
Before long, the final bell rang, and the hallways filled with noise as kids began pouring out of their classrooms. We were a little over halfway done, and Nell grinned.
“Right on time,” she said, putting another easel and stool in place, and I did the same.
I was trying to prepare myself mentally for dealing with teenagers for the next hour or so, but then a voice rang out loudly through the room, drawing both mine and Nell’s attention.
“Is it true?”
