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“H—hi.”
Then Thomas Cooke, heart of stone, did the unexpected. He approached us.
The closer he came, Icould tell, to my surprise, that his eyes weren’tas harsh as yesterday. “How are you? What are you doing here?”
His tone changed too. Not by much, just enough to be less resentful. Just enough to feel like an olive branch.
Iaccepted it, with caution. “I’mokay. Ilive here, as of today.”
“Welcome, then, even though I’mnew here myself.”
Wait, what was that? Did Thomas’slips curve up?
“You look…better than yesterday.” He cleared his throat. “I’mglad. See you at the party tomorrow.”
Isighed. Another thing that had completely slipped my mind—the staff party to celebrate the start of the school year.
Thomas stood less than afoot away, waiting for my reply. When Istared at him, stupefied where all Icould do was blink, his grin widened by less than an inch, which threw me for another loop of shock and silence.
“Okay then. Goodbye, Erin.” He patted my shoulder, then jogged past us.
“He wasn’tthat cute in the speaking engagement last Friday,” Laura whispered, even though Thomas had jogged far away from us.
Istarted walking in the opposite direction of where Thomas headed, and Laura caught up with me. “He’snot cute.”
“Not teddy-bear-cute; Idon’tknow if that man has that feature installed.” She laced her arm with mine and looked at me with awarm smile on her face. “But he cared enough to ask, to come over. Ithink that’skind.”
Laura had apoint without even realizing it. Thomas must’ve been equally furious and humiliated after yesterday’spresentation, and he still found it in him to ask me how Iwas doing and try to smile even. Ihad to give him that and maybe even call it atruce.
“Yeah, Iguess that was kind.”
The next day Imade apoint to go out early to the staff meeting to avoid another encounter with acertain neighbor. It didn’tunnerve me, but Ipreferred meeting him in asocial environment with other staff members instead of one-on-one on the street. Iwouldn’tknow what to say to him or if he started off on the wrong foot today, and Ididn’tmind getting to school before everyone else.
Iarrived twenty minutes before the time it said on the email and gave Gertrud ahand as she fixed the room, organizing the rows of chairs to face the podium where the dean would speak later, and setting up the long tables on the side with small sandwiches and sodas.
Half an hour later the room was nearly full, staff members filling the space with the sound of their easy conversations. Ilocated my professors from my BA years and sat with agroup of them as we waited for the dean to take her place.
Every other minute, Ilooked over my shoulder at the door, waiting to see I’m-never-late Thomas enter. Thomas who said he was going to come.
When the dean started speaking, Ifelt amix of emotions, some relief and some disappointment of not having him there. Iconvinced myself yesterday didn’tmean anything, and listened as the dean talked about the school’sgoals for the year, offered us volunteering options, and pointed out the dates of the upcoming events.
Sometime during her presentation of the school’sgoals toward this year and the future, Iheard adoor being opened and shut behind me. Ihalfway didn’texpect to see Thomas there, since almost an hour had passed since the event started, but Ilooked over my shoulder anyway.
And there he was, Thomas. As my dislike of him withered, Icould truly appreciate the good-looking man he was. He fixed his usually half-messy man bun so that no hair stood out of place, his beard immaculate. The brown shirt he wore fit tight on his body, showcasing his taut chest and the contour of his abs as he leaned back on the wall, leading to his slim, light jeans.
And then his golden-brown eyes caught mine.
My cheeks flushed red, and Iturned around asecond too late.
Fuck my life.
The rest of the time Ikept my head looking straight forward. Ireminded myself that as hot as Thomas looked, that was still the man who raised his voice at me and, ugh, well, okay, also cared for me even though Iprobably humiliated him in front of his class.
As the dean said her final words, my nerves were shot. Icouldn’tdecide if Ishould stay in my place or do the adult thing and walk over to say hi to him like he did with me aday earlier. Eventually, Susan, amiddle-aged sketching professor spared me from making that decision. She started talking as soon as the dean stepped down, asking me how my first days were and continuing to tell me about gardening, home plants, her pet cat, and oh, why did Ihold on to my refusal to sketch.
Afew minutes with her had me consumed with the vivid interest with which she described her life. Afew lovely, stress-free minutes that were interrupted by alarge shadow that loomed above us.
Thomas cleared his throat. “Hello.”
