Page 34 of A Royal Menace

Grabbing my bag from the passenger seat, I climb from the car and close the door with a bump of my hip. Hitting the button on my key fob to lock the doors, I take a deep breath, lift my chin, and walk into school like I haven’t a care in the world.

And like I wasn’t just considering dolling myself up a bit for Royal freaking Manning.

After checking my mail slot in the main office, I steel my spine and head for the teacher’s lounge. I know it’s where I’ll find Royal, just like every other day. And I’m determined to act normal around him. Just like every other day.

I stop in the doorway to the lounge, and there he is, at the coffee maker…just like every other day.He turns and glances toward me like he somehow felt my presence, and his lips curve up into a smile.

Okay. That’s new.

Twisting his upper body, he grabs my coffee cup from the shelf above the coffee machine. Meeting my eyes again, his holds the mug up and jiggles it, a silent offer to pour me a cup.

That’sdefinitelynew.

It’s okay. He’s just being friendly. No need to get all bent out of shape over it.

I somehow make my lips curve upward and nod, then force my feet to move toward him. I stop a foot away, my lungs working like I’ve just run a lap around the perimeter of the school grounds rather than having just walked across the small room. Casting my eyes downward, I take a second to calm my breaths while hoping Royal won’t notice.

When I look up, he’s holding my mug toward me as he takes a sip of his own. I thank him, the words sounding a bit more breathless than I’d hoped they would. There’s a strange sparkle in his eyes, and it sets off a tiny flutter in my chest. One I try desperately to ignore.

“How are you feeling? Better than yesterday morning, I hope?” he asks with a small smirk, keeping his voice low so none of the other staff members in the room will hear them.

I realize he’s teasing me.

Then, I realize Ilikeit.

If we were having this conversation last week, I would’ve gotten angry and said something snarky in response. Royal would’ve laughed, and I would’ve stomped away, sneering and plotting his demise.

But now? After this weekend? I’m on the verge of tittering like a teenager whose biggest crush is flirting with her.

No. I’m not a kid, and I donothave a crush on Royal Manning.

“I’m good. Thanks again for the coffee,” I mumble, then nod a bit chaotically before spinning around and striding from the room.

Well, if this is some alternate universe, and Royal was actually flirting with me, that psychotic display I just gave himwill ensure he doesn’t do it again.Jesus.When did I become such a spaz?

In my classroom, I drop my bag to the floor, set my still-full cup of coffee on the desk, and then slump into my chair. Leaning over, I drop my forehead to the smooth wood and bang it softly a couple of times.

How did a couple of days away from campus change me so drastically? Instead of being irritable and angry in Royal’s presence, I’m a blubbering, panting mess. Straightening, I lean back in my chair and pick up my coffee. Eyes unfocused, I take a sip and think about some of our past interactions.

I always thought Royal thrived on irritating me, and maybe he did, to a point, but what if he’s just been teasing me all along? Have I been the problem, overreacting simply because he has a vastly different teaching style than me?

I’m just so damn confused.

Footsteps squeak and shuffle in the hallway, and I take another sip of my coffee before setting it aside and rising to greet my students. Pushing all thoughts of Royal to the back of my mind, I force a smile as they start to file in. It’s time to mold young minds. I can put my personal bullshit aside––at least, until lunch––and do my job.

Once everyone is settled in their seats and reading from their books, it dawns on me that there is no noise coming from the room next door. My brow furrows as I stare at the wall like I might somehow suddenly gain x-ray vision and be able to see through it. Monday mornings are always chaotic. It usually sounds like Royal’s hosting a rave in his room, I march over and make demands that he calm them down, and he defends himself, saying theyhaveto be rambunctious to get the weekend wiggles out before they can learn.

Every. Single. Week.

And as annoyed as I am––every single week––I don’t feel relieved. I feel curious. Maybe even a bit worried. What’s going on over there?

“Class, I have to step out for a moment. Please continue reading,” I say before I can stop myself.

I open my classroom door and step out before gently closing it behind me. I’m not usually one to look a gift horse in the mouth like this, but I need to know what Royal’s class is doing and why they’re so quiet. I start in that direction then stop and turn back. Stopping again, I heave a sigh and turn back to Royal’s room, walking on silent feet until I stop just beside his door. I bend at the waist, leaning over to peek through the small window.

Royal has a finger to his lips at the front of the class. The kids are giggling into their hands as he pantomimes what I can only assume is some sort of dinosaur even though he really looks like a drunk chicken walking back and forth. Hands go up all over the room, and he stops his little strut. He points to a student, and the boy hops up and runs to the far wall where large prints of various dinosaurs are pinned on a cork bulletin board. He points to a picture of a Gallimimus, and Royal offers him a silent golf clap. The rest of the class copies his quiet clap, and the boy grins as he rushes back to his seat.

I straighten and step back before Royal or one of his students sees me peeping through his window. I don’t even try to fight my grin as I shake my head and walk back to my own classroom. I’m not one-hundred percent sure Royal’s choice of game this morning has anything to do with keeping me happy, but I have my suspicions.

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