[Featured on @adultfiction, @NA, @teenfiction, @Contemporarylit]
"He takes a step closer to me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off his body as my heart races. "Just say no if you want me to stop," he mumbles in a husky voice, as h...
"Uh Eleanor? Are you sure you don't want me to do that for you?" I'm standing below Eleanor, holding the ladder steady, praying to god she doesn't lose her balance.
"I'm not that old Lina, don't worry," she chuckles, "now pass me another thumbtack."
I very carefully hand her another thumbtack, and watch as she continues attaching the giant plastic skeleton to the ceiling. This lady sure goes crazy with holidays, though I sort of pictured her as the type that would. Class finished almost an hour ago, and we've been here decorating the classroom with halloween decorations since then. There are orange pumpkin shaped string lights around the room, cloth ghosts and plastic spiders hung from the ceiling, black paper cat silhouettes taped to the windows, and fake spiderwebs strewn everywhere.
She finally finishes and climbs down the ladder. I exhale a sigh of relief. "Alright Lina, one last thing." She takes out a large container, my eyes widen as she takes the lid off. Inside is somewhere between thirty and forty mini plastic jack o lanterns the size of baseballs. You've got to be kidding me.
As Eleanor sets the box on the ground, her phone buzzes. "Oh no, I lost track of time. I'm supposed to be in a staff meeting right now!" She quickly digs through a drawer in her desk and takes out a large folder. "Lina would you mind finishing up? Just place those all over the room wherever there's space."
I nod, sounds easy enough.
"Thank you dear," she says, handing me a key to lock the classroom after I'm done.
I pick up the box and begin finding homes for the little pumpkins. On shelves, tables, windowsills, and cubbies. It feels like I've barely made a dent though, why does she even have this many damn plastic pumpkins.
I'm suddenly snapped out of my thoughts when I hear someone clear their throat. I quickly turn around and see what is probably the most attractive man I've ever laid eyes on. He has latte coloured brown hair styled back, slight stubble along his sharp jaw, and is wearing a light blue dress shirt that hints at a toned chest underneath.
Startled, I accidentally drop the box and little pumpkins fly everywhere.
I'm an idiot.
"Oh shit." I hear him mumble as I quickly crouch down to gather up all of the stupid pumpkins. I can feel the heat rushing to my face. He crouches down and hands me the pumpkins that rolled out of my reach. It feels like the dumb faces on the pumpkins are laughing at me. After what I hope is everything is back in the box, I stand up.
"Thank you. I'm normally not this, er, clumsy," I stammer. I can still feel my face burning pink with embarrassment.
He looks at me with stunning hazel eyes. His expression seems to be a mixture of amusement and confusion. "No problem," he says cautiously, furrowing his brows, "I assume you're not Mrs. Able?"
"Oh no I'm her new student teacher, Ms. Neil," I explain. I try to stop my gaze from wandering across him. He's probably almost a foot taller than me, I feel very meek under his powerful stature.
He checks his watch. "I'm Paxton Hayle, Abigail's dad. She wanted me to pick up her homework?"
"Oh yes of course," I scurry over to my desk and grab some worksheets and Abigail's notebook. I hand everything to him, getting close enough that I smell his cologne. Smells...expensive I guess.
"Thank you," he says in his deep voice as he puts the things in his bag.
"No problem." For some stupid reason, I don't want him to leave so I try and make some small talk. "Is Abigail ok?"
"She's sick but my mom's been taking care of her today," he says, checking his phone at the sound of a text.
"Oh I see. You had to go to work?"
He slightly raises an eyebrow. "Yes."
"Ah. Where do you work?"
"Larsen Realty," he says in a neutral tone. He definitely does not seem interested in continuing this. Before I can embarrass myself any further, his phone rings. "Oh sorry, I should get going. Was nice meeting you Ms...."
"Neil." I quickly say.
"Right."
-----
I walk by the kitchen and see Emi at the stove. I step in to see what she's doing, my stomach grumbles in excited anticipation when I see she's frying some of her homemade gyozas. She looks up from the splattering pan and smiles when she sees me. "Hey Lina, dinner should be ready in a bit."
I love when my roommate cooks, her food is the best. We've been roommates since our second year in university. I've lost track of how many times I've triggered the smoke detector while attempting to cook since then, and we just decided at one point she'd do most of the cooking. She's like a second family, especially now that my first family doesn't really even feel like a family anymore. "Thanks Emi."
I take a quick shower, trying not to replay the events in my mind from today. Showers are usually the worst culprits for reliving embarrassing experiences.
"You did not!" Emi is practically crying laughing. I'm starting to regret telling her about my pumpkin fiasco.
"I did," I groan, burying my face in my hands. "I got caught off guard! You should've seen him," I whine, remembering that attractive and mysterious face.
Emi's deep brown eyes are sparkling with excitement. She eats another gyoza before responding. "So what happened next?"
"I tried making small talk," I grumble, still cringing, "and probably just embarrassed myself even more." That was probably the worst attempt at small talk I've ever made.
Emi chuckles before she starts to clear the table and I wash the dishes. "Will you see him again?"
"Maybe? The parent teacher conferences are next week, but I'm not sure which of her parents will come." I was helping Eleanor schedule the meetings today, but things were still up in the air for Abigail.
"Great, you'll get to redeem your clumsy self, and who knows where things will go from there," Emi winks as I flick water at her. "Hey come on, remember how you and Michael met? You dropped your books down the stairs and he helped you pick them up like in some cliché romance movie."
"Sure but that was different! Michael and I were like nineteen. Paxton looks like he's in his late twenties, he probably thinks I'm just some immature klutz." As if on cue, a soapy mug slips out of my hands and the handle breaks off as it lands in the sink. Emi starts dying laughing again.
