Page 16 of The Overdue Kiss

I pick my jaw up off my lap. “That might be the craziest thing you’ve suggested, and you once convinced me to go cliff jumping at Devil’s Punchbowl. I might have told Mamá he was a friend, but you know the truth. I barely know the guy. Yeah... I’ll just suck it up and go alone.”

Julia leans in, eyeing me closely. “And don’t think I haven’t realized you’re avoiding telling me about what happened with Desmond on the mountain. I think I’m still in shock that he let you ride on his motorcycle. Were there any witnesses? I’m not sure if I believe you.”

“Reese said the same thing. It’s not like it meant anything to him beyond doing a good deed. He didn’t even stick around after he dropped me off.”

“Don’t take it personally. He has a loner reputation, always distracted or running off to Denver for some reason or another. I’ve seen a few teachers and even some brazen PTA moms flirt with him. He has some immunity because it just bounces off of him. You could probably throw yourself at him and he wouldn’t notice.”

“Well, that’s good because I kinda did.” Heat tingles up my neck and cheeks as I remember what he overheard me say.Ugh.

“Girl! What did you do? I need all the details.”

Between fits of giggles, I manage to get out one of the most embarrassing stories of my life. Julia flops over on her side, wheezing and laughing at the same time.

“The helmets were synchronized? Talk about making an introduction. What did he say when you left?”

“I actually didn’t get to say goodbye. He left to go park and never came back. Perhaps I scared him away?” I laugh awkwardly, but there’s some truth behind my words.

“He works with teenagers. I doubt you did anything that he hasn’t seen before.”

“Maybe? I still feel like I should do something for him as a thank-you and maybe smooth things over since I’ll be seeing him around town. What do you think? Should I buy him breakfast or something?” As soon as I say it, I want to take it back. It ridiculously sounds like I’m asking him on a date. “No, that’s a little too forward. The Santos in me thinks it should be food related? Pie? Cookies? Or is that a weird gesture of gratitude to a stranger?”

“You know they say the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. And your sugar cookies are to die for. I actually still have dreams about them.”

Laughing, I stand and grab our plates to take to the kitchen.

“I’m not sure they are that good. But they are easy to whip up if you have the ingredients.”

“Maya, I will always keep the ingredients on hand for this very moment. Please make extra. Please-oh-please.” She grips my arm dramatically and sticks out her bottom lip.

“Fine. I will make extra if you help me ice them. I never liked that part anyway.”

She throws both hands high, squealing. “Deal! What do you want me to put on them? Remember my artistic talents go as high as my third-grade teaching level.”

“You said he teaches math, right?” I say, grinning at my cheesy idea.

The next morning comes sooner than we both expect, and we chug our caffeinated beverages as we head out the door. Last night was full of catching up and reminiscing about old times, but today we are regretting going to bed well past midnight.

“Goodness, I don’t think I’ve been up this early in a long time,” I mumble over a stifled yawn.

“Teacher life isn’t for the weak. You might need more than that chai latte to make it through the day.”

Julia woke two hours before I rolled out of bed. Ever the morning person, she went for her daily run and stopped by the local coffee shop to grab muffins and hot drinks. She is nothing but smiles, and I’m guzzling my boiling cup of tea to catch up.

Soft streaks of sunlight bloom into the dark sky as we drive through the empty streets of town. It’s a relief to see my bookmobile parked on Main Street by the auto shop, and I make a mental note to grab my suitcase from the back when the shop opens. Borrowing Julia’s dress and cosmetics may be fun for one day, but I miss all my things.

Despite it being six in the morning, the tiny parking lot is packed. Whereas the town may be asleep, the schoolhouse is alive and bustling with teachers and staff unloading their vehicles. My heart lurches at a familiar motorcycle parked in the teacher’s section, and I do my best not to search for him in the crowd—and fail.

I tighten my hold on the Tupperware of cookies and follow Julia up the path to the one-story schoolhouse.

As soon as I walk through the main door, a nostalgic scent of crayons and glue sticks slams into me, yet visually, it’s as if I stepped into a museum fromLittle House on the Prairie. Wooden pews line half of the room, each one adorned with gold-plated markers of families of the first students to attend Hester Monroe. A vintage-style slate board hangs on the back wall, scribbled with cheerful, modern handwriting that welcomes the students back to school. Clear cabinets line either side of the walls, displaying relics from past generations from the 1900s to the present.

“Is this a mock-up of the original school?”

“Even better, it’s the original schoolhouse that was built 121 years ago. Crazy, right? Unless it’s a code violation, the Rocosa Historical Society refuses any alterations to the original building structure. Instead, they added a wing on each end to accommodate the growing population. The east wing and west wing are more modern and what we use on a daily basis.”

So much history lives within these walls. It reminds me of first-edition books and their journey of whose shelves they’ve lined and who has lovingly read each yellowed page by the time they end up in my hands.

“To the right is the elementary wing. In case you need me, I’m the ocean-blue door covered in surfboards halfway down the hall. Off to the left is for the middle and high school students and staff.” Julia points to the open double doors filling with staff. “We don’t have a library, but there’s a lounge that has some donated books. It’s more like a ‘take one, leave one’ policy.”

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