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“What?” She looks over at me and I untwist my body, flopping down beside her to look at the screen.
“I’ve seen photos of him on Instagram and TikTok. Women are always thirsting over this man hard-core. I just didn’t realize his name.” She flips over to one of her social media apps and turns the screen toward me so I can see a woman fanning herself and pretending to drool as images of him flash across the screen.
“Oh God, just what his ego needs. I bet he eats that shit up.” I roll my eyes again.
“Damn, he doesn’t have any of his own social media accounts.” She flicks through several more posts about him. “Look at his body, he’s so ripped. Holy shit, he’s forty-two? He looks like he’s thirty.”
I feel that flush growing up my neck again, a warmth spreading through my belly as I remember the way he looked down on me in my classroom. He was closer than I realized at the time, the scent of his spicy cologne teasing me. I don’t know if I was imagining it or not, but it felt like he stared at me a little bit longer than necessary. And I swear I saw his eyes flick down my body and back up in a flash.
God, I’ve been reading too many romance novels. Weston Vaughn sees me as a bug flying around his head, a nuisance that only causes him frustration.
“If I had to guess, he’s more of a triple fudge sundae, gooey brownie kind of guy and not a low carb, low sugar diet kind of brownie.”
“Huh?” Xana lifts a brow at me, turning her face away from her screen. “Explain this Daphne logic to me, please.”
“Just something my mom would say.” I smile to myself, remembering her talking about this hotshot quarterback I was head over heels in love with in high school. Her logic wasn’t that I couldn’t attract someone like him; it was that oftentimes guys who only offer looks and popularity weren’t the ones you wanted to waste your time on. “She’d say that a man like Mr. Vaughn, powerful, richer than God, and looks like that—he’s the sundae. Decadent. The kind of dessert that makes no pretense about what it is—nothing healthy yet sinfully delicious. But most likely will leave you filled with regret when the excitement wears off.”
“And the low carb, diet one?”
“It pretends to be the real thing, but when it’s gone, you’re still wanting more because it wasn’t fully satisfying.”
“Well damn. So what are we supposed to? Settle?” she asks sincerely.
“Honestly, I dunno. I don’t think my mom’s logic was legitimate advice.” I laugh. “She’d always say go for the classic, a chocolate chip cookie because even a bad cookie is a good one.”
I lie on my back for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, now wondering if my mom did settle. She met my dad when she was young, at fifteen. They were high school sweethearts and she always said he was her soulmate, the love of her life, but maybe it’s only because she’d convinced herself he was.
“By the way, any more random invites from creepy Steve across the hall and his mystery roommate?”
“Not lately,” I say, referring to my awkward neighbor who has become increasingly interested in me. I feel bad calling him creepy. His casual invites to watch a movie or watch him play video games were nice enough at first, but after catching him staring out his cracked front door at me coming home from work a time or two, it’s bordering on weird. “I did see him in the lobby when I got home from Paris. He peppered me with questions about where I’d been and said he was worried since he hadn’t seen or heard from me in the last week.”
“Eww, that is way too creepy, Daph. You need to stop giving him the benefit of the doubt and get a camera or something for your door and tell your building manager.”
I shrug. “I think he’s harmless, honestly; he’s probably just lonely and a touch socially awkward.”
“Well, he shouldn’t be lonely with his supposed ‘roommate’ that you’ve yet to ever see. I’m not convinced it’s not a Norman Bates situation. You sure there isn’t a skeleton sitting in a chair in there? Does it ever smell funny?”
“You’re ridiculous, you know that? I’ve never met his roommate, but I did see him a few times. I even introduced myself to him, but he just muttered to himself and walked past me. Anyway, enough about creepy Steve and his roommate. I’m too preoccupied now trying to deal with the fact that Mr. Eiffel Tower is really just an arrogant prick.”
“So you do admit you thought about him in that way?” She giggles, causing me to roll my eyes yet again.
“It did seem like it would be a classic meet-cute when it happened; the thought crossed my mind, yes, but after the airport, that fantasy went up in flames.” Turns out my knight in shining armor was just an asshole in an expensive suit.
I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly before turning my attention back to the TV, getting back into the workout to take my mind off Weston Vaughn.
* * *
“How come only my daddy is late? Did—did he forget me?” Daisy pooches out her lower lip, and it quivers a little as she tries not to break out into a full-blown cry.
“Oh, sweetie, he’s just a really busy and important man is all. It’s not because he forgot.” I crouch down in front of her, lifting her chin up so she can see me. “You are his entire world. I promise you he’s going to be here any minute.” I offer up a huge smile to reassure her, but the truth is, I have no idea if he’s even on his way yet. He left a message with the school’s administrative assistant, letting her know that he’d be just a few minutes late today.
“Come on,” I say, reaching for her hand and I stand back up. The classroom is empty. I walk over to grab my bag and turn off the lights and shut the door. “We’ll go wait down by the front entrance. I’ll show you my new paint by numbers picture if you want to see it?”
“Yeah!” she says, tugging my hand in excitement, her frown instantly turning into a smile.
My first week of teaching here has flown by and it’s been so fulfilling already. I’m not sure if it’s irony or what, considering her father doesn’t seem too fond of me, but Daisy has become my little shadow at school. She’s developed a keen interest in my hobby of crafting random things I find off the internet. This month my obsession has been paint by number photos and she loves looking at photos of all the ones I’ve completed.
We head down to the front lobby where I let the admin know we are waiting for Mr. Vaughn. The parents waiting room is large, complete with fancy coffee machines and ergonomic chairs that probably cost more than my rent. Nothing like the schools I’ve taught at previously.
