Page 50 of Between the Lines
Before he turns to exit my car, Nathan leans over to cup my cheek again.
“I hope you get to find time for you tonight.”
And just when I think he’s out of surprises tonight, he slips two fingers beneath my chin to tilt it up so that I can meet his gaze. I see almost no hint of the golden iris, his pupils the size of saucers behind his glasses that are now fogging up at our proximity.
“Drive home safely.”
I nod, and that simple movement puts more of his skin on more of mine. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to sayYes, sir.
As I drive home, reflecting on the resentment I have for always doing what I’m told, my thighs press together at the thought that I’d do it willingly for him.
twenty-two
nathan
I might as well just sleepat school tonight. By the time I sort through my to-do list, it would be fruitless to drive home and attempt it.
There was a board meeting tonight, keeping me here until late. Typically, I’d loathe the monthly requirement, but tonight, I was grateful for the distraction.
I cannot evict Claire Benson from my mind, and I don’t know if I even want to.
After the text message she sent—the one I left without a response—I can’t manage to put my ducks in a row.
I want her. It seems like she wants me. But there are too many variables.
She’s younger than me—younger thanCal—for starters. It doesn’t detract from the fact that she’s a grown adult, and more mature than some of my colleagues.
She also works in my building. In my rule-follower eyes, it would be an abuse of authority. I don’t want her to feel like she’s being forced to be with me. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
I’m up to my neck in job responsibilities that are being piled on me like lopsided Jenga blocks by a supervisor who doesn’t want themhimself, my older subordinates are refusing to follow curriculum, I’m trying my best to find my footing…
And yet, all I can focus on is the message preview of the text I’ve left unread on my phone since six o’clock this morning.
Claire Benson
It’s a good thing you didn’t get rid of that makeup. I noticed a mark?—
I can’t bring myself to see if there’s more to the message. Mostly because in my heart, I want her too badly. I want her like she’d been in my office, spread out on my desk and panting. But even more? Evenworse, it seems, I want the woman who has been getting me to open up with no more than the simple bat of her eyelashes and the sunshine in her smile. I’m getting too dangerously close to wanting to know her better, to letting her see every single piece of me, and I know how this will all end.
Which is exactly why I’ve been avoiding her. I’ve purposely been hiding in my office with the door shut. I even skipped out on the meeting planned with Lucy and Claire for an update on the mentorship program.
I’m a coward.
And, unfortunately for me, Claire has decided today to call me on it.
She doesn’t even knock. Then again, itisafter school hoursandafter activities hours. For all intents and purposes, the only people in this building are myself and the night janitor. Or so I thought.
Claire comes in like a hurricane, powerful and angry, but calm in the center. It is the eye of her storm that frightens me the most. The parts of her that can remain calm in her chaos.
“So youarehere.”
She doesn’t ask. She observes. The door to my officesnicks shut, and she crosses her arms, her manicure biting little indents into the sleeve of her chunky sweater.
My back straightens, and I discreetly lift a pen from my desktop for something to do with my hands.
Since when do I fidget?
“Yes.”