Page 18 of Napkins and Other Distractions
Pulling his hand back, Kent knocks into his coffee, sending it tumbling to the floor. Thankfully, he’s guzzled most of it, and only small splashes paint the carpet, splattering like a Jackson Pollock.
“Oy, I’m such a clumsy crab.” Kent grabs the wipes from the shelf. Behind the tube he now holds, I notice a stockpile of them and my skin sizzles.
“Kent, it’s okay,” I say. He crouches down and wipes the floor and then moves to the legs of the table and chairs.
“No, it’s not. I’m the principal. I shouldn’t be such a hot mess.”
Seeing him on the ground, swiftly wiping, doing his best to clean up, my throat tightens. I swallow hard. I’m not sure what I can do to help, but I worry my presence caused some of this.
“Kent, please, it’s fine.”
I stand, wanting to help but not sure what to do. When I crouch, Kent pops up and knocks into my face with the back of his head. Hard. A burst of pain flashes, and my nose throbs and burns from the brunt of the force. I fall back into the chair, dizzy, and cover my face with my hands.
“Oh shit, your beautiful face. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, crap, I mean crap, sorry, I shouldn’t curse at school,” he blathers, and he’s over me, grabbing at my hands. Beautiful. He called me beautiful. Well, my face, anyway. Pulling back, I do my best to avoid his hands, but his compliment, mixed with the smells of the citrus and bleach from the wipes, soothes me, and I let him make contact.
“Let me look, please.”
His fingers clutch my chin, and he tilts my face up. Looking at the ceiling, I’m fairly certain he’s staring straight up my nose. Wonderful.
“Is it broken?” I mumble.
“No.”
“Bleeding?”
He gets closer, his eyes only an inch from my throbbing nose. Static from his beard tingles my chin.
“I don’t see any. I should probably get the nurse—or at least an ice pack. We have tons. She hands them out like candy.”
His breath, a mix of coffee and mint, travels right up my aching nose, and—clean mouth or not— I’m under Kent Lester’s spell. My fingers, suddenly with a mind of their own, grab his collar and pull him in for a kiss. His lips are tentative, but I wrap my arms around his torso, and he quickly softens into me, letting my tongue play in the whiskers around his mouth before entering it and sending a jolt of adrenaline to my core.
Kent Lester covers me. Between my nose, which still pounds with each beat of my heart but seems to settle, and the smell of cleaning products overtaking the room, I forget to worry about, well, everything. Kent’s moved a hand to my face. He caresses my cheek, and then his fingers travel to my ear, taking the lobe and gently massaging it.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs.
Again. Beautiful. And this time not only my face, but “you.” That has to mean all of me. My belly rumbles with a pang of desire. But a sharp exhale out of my nose, followed by a glob of snot, causes me to pull back.
“I need a tissue.” I turn away and pull my forearm up to shield my face. The reality is, I need a complete scrub down from the neck up.
He pushes himself up and heads to the box of tissues on his desk.
“Uhhh, I’m out. Crap. Don’t move.”
Opening the door, he sticks his head out.
“Helen, do we have any extra tissue boxes?”
“We’re out. I can grab some in the supply closet.”
“No, I’ll go,” he says and turns toward me. “I’ll be back in five.”
Hearing Helen’s voice and the chatter of other people in the office agitates the flickering desire in my belly.
“Wait, I’ll come with you.” I follow Kent into the hallway, covering my nose with my elbow.
Kent unlocks the metal door with a key from Helen’s desk.
“The light’s here somewhere … there,” he says, illuminating the space with a long flickering fluorescent bulb hanging from the ceiling. I hold the heavy door with my shoulder as he enters.
