I finish my beer as I think about what Willow has said. She knows me better than to expect me to respond right away. And she’s right. Everything she said makes sense. My honest assessment is that Hadleigh and I are both likely putting off a conversation that we need to have out of fear—fear that we want something that maybe we just can’t have.
Chapter 12
Hadleigh
When I arrive at school on Monday, Sawyer is already in my classroom, doing some prep for his very first class. “Good morning.”
He glances up at me with a quick smile. “Hey. Good morning. Give me just a sec to finish up here.” He goes right back to whatever he’s doing. He’s so damn focused, I begin to wonder if he approaches everything he does with such care and concentration. My mind immediately goes to very naughty, very dirty places.
A wave of lust rolls its way right through me, unbidden, and I set the pad of paper and pen that I’d brought with me for my observation of his class on the desk in the back of the room. I swivel around and watch as he double-checks that everything’s ready. His absorption in the task at hand is damn adorable. My eyes can’t stop their slow perusal of him. He looks ridiculously handsome up there in his dark-gray dress pants and crisp, white button-down—complete with the rolled sleeves, of course—and I’m suddenly glad I’m not one of the students because I’m not sure how much attention I’d be paying to the actual lesson today.
As far as Sawyer’s readiness to take over this period goes, it’s one of my US History classes, and I know he’s going to be just fine. Over the last week, he’s added a lot to our class discussions, and I’m confident he’s ready for it.
But as far as things that I wasn’t ready for, well, I didn’t know I’d still be all twisted up over almost kissing him last week. Between that and the text messages I’d gotten from him over the weekend, I don’t know what to do with myself. Ever since I nearly put my mouth on his, I’ve been a mess, and worse, I’ve been strategically avoiding personal interactions with him. All day Friday, whoever else happened to have been in the workroom was drawn into my conversations, effectively stopping Sawyer from bringing up what had happened between us. I swear, I’d chatted with Brian Schmidt, the AP European History teacher—and our department chair—more than I had all of September through December combined. He’d been the buffer I’d desperately needed, and for that, I’m grateful—not that he knew why I was taking a particular interest in Napoleon, Louis XVI, and Robespierre all of a sudden.
I flick my thumb over my phone screen, selecting my text message app and looking at what Sawyer had sent me one more time.
Sawyer: Hey, Hadleigh. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.
That first text alone had set me on edge and made me feel awful. I remember thinking, Why is he sorry? This is on me. I’m supposed to be the responsible one here—the mentor.
Me: What? What for? Are you not going to be in class on Monday or something?
Sawyer: No, no. I’ll be there, and I’ll be ready to teach first period.
Sawyer: I feel a little weird about what happened in the workroom on Thursday.
He’d waited for me to say something—anything, I’m sure—but I’d been frozen in place as I read his texts. I’d felt a little weird, too. But I’d also been so turned on that I was ashamed of what I’d almost done. But then …
Sawyer: I take full responsibility. I was out of line.
Me: No. Don’t. I tell you what—let’s get through Monday, and we’ll talk about it later.
Sawyer: Fair enough.
I tuck my phone into my pocket before I take a few deep breaths. Time to be an adult. I give myself one last mental shake and walk to the front of the classroom where Sawyer is looking over his lesson plan. “All ready?” My voice sounds funny, but I continue, “Anything I can help you with before students get here?”
He shakes his head with a small smile. “Nope. I think I’m actually on top of things.”
As I gaze at his soft-looking lips, my mind boomerangs me back to that night at the bar when I’d first set eyes on him, our attraction instant and undeniable. I blink, and there he is in the office, offering himself up to me for the next eight weeks. I blink again, and his face is close, so close to mine, and all I can think about is kissing him and getting his big hands on me as soon as possible. One last blink brings me back to the present, Sawyer’s amused eyes on me. Of course I’d been half in a daydream and have no way of knowing if it was three seconds or three minutes that I’d been standing here, speechless. I swallow, and my gaze flicks to his dark brown eyes. “Good. I’m glad. I’ll just be in the back. Watching.” I point over my shoulder at the other desk as the warning bell rings and students begin to amble into the classroom.
Throughout the class, my eyes remain glued to him. Every few minutes, he looks up at me and winks to make sure I’m paying attention. When he does this, I smile back as best I can and try to control the flaming heat
