Page 54 of Kiss Me Now
I took a deep breath, snatched my water bottle from my desk, and walked back out. This time the kids all turned to regard me with greater interest.
“How’s it going, Ms. Spencer?” one of the boys called as I passed.
“Great. Couldn’t be better.” I made it to the drinking fountain halfway down the hall and stood there for the eternity that it took for my water bottle to fill, a half-smile fixed on my face while I tried to also simultaneously appear lost in thought. I made the return trip to my classroom, but this time no one paid attention to me.
“How did it go?” Noah asked when I slipped back in.
“I think okay? I’ll at least stay through the last two classes today. But I can’t promise I’m coming back tomorrow.”
He laughed and returned his chair to the nearby lab desk as the bell rang. “Fair enough. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone saw anything.”
“No, but they almost saweverything.”
“But it’s still only almost. Hang in there, Spencer.”
“Thanks, coach.”
He gave me a salute and headed back toward the gym.
I survived fifth and sixth periods, drove home and ate a pint of ice cream, and decided when my alarm went off the next morning that I would go back to school after all. By the time I drove home Friday, I was even smiling as I thought about telling Ian the story.
Except that by dinnertime on Friday, Ian hadn’t shown up at Miss Lily’s. I’d hung out for an extra-long time in the garden pulling weeds that could have waited a few days, waiting for a car—his car—to turn into Miss Lily’s driveway...but nothing.
It was annoying. I was annoyed with myself for finding it annoying.
I made myself a tomato sandwich—Miss Lily had naturally been exactly right about the glory of a tomato sandwich when the tomato comes straight from the vine—and burned off some restless energy by stripping wallpaper.
I should’ve been exhausted after a disaster-laced first week. Instead, I was keyed up. I’d put some energy on reserve for seeing Ian without realizing it, and now that energy had nowhere to go.
Well, no surprise. I’d said no dating. And Ian had proven he was far more likely to stay in DC than visit Miss Lily. But I’d been egotistical enough to think that he’d make an excuse to come see her so he could see me.
Stupid.
He was giving me what I wanted, and that was a good thing.
“You have no time for Ian Greene,” I scolded my reflection as I washed my face before bed. “You will never have time for Ian Greene. Make your to do list and go to sleep.”
I woke up early on Saturday, determined to get the last of the stubborn wallpaper stripped from the hallway. Except I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to do anything but burrow under the covers and put onDream Home Makeoverand not do a single useful thing.
But the thing about owning my own house was that it was mine and no one else’s, which meant the work was mine and no one else’s too. I stared up at the ceiling and weighed a day-long Netflix binge against having to live with the ugly old wallpaper again.
“Do something nice for Brooke tomorrow and take care of the wallpaper today,” I told the ceiling.
“Ugh, fine,” I answered myself. “But I’m going to need an incentive.”
Music and muffins, my brain said.
“I will strip wallpaper for one hour with my music blaring and then I can have a muffin. A chocolate chip muffin.”
Blueberry is healthier.
“Chocolate chip or nothing.”
My head stayed quiet, so I dragged myself out of bed and slid on cutoffs and a holey Nationals shirt, set up my Bluetooth speakers, and cued the playlist I’d used when I trained for a half-marathon right after college, a collection of rap and rock anthems so cheesy they should be used for fondue. I showed the wallpaper no mercy while singing about the eye of the tiger at the top of my lungs.
I’d moved on to a new section of the hallway and a song about big butts when a hand brushed my shoulder. I screamed at the top of my lungs and whirled with my scraper in front of me like a weapon.
Ian jumped back and put his hands up. “I come in peace,” he yelled over Sir Mixalot.
