Page 41 of Guarded Deputy
“Do you prefer the high school students? You worked with children before, right? That’s what my uncle mentioned to me.” I furrow my brows, wondering if I misunderstood.
“Your uncle?”
“Yeah, Uncle Roy. The sheriff,” I clarify.
“Oh, I thought he was your godfather.” Nate shuffles beside me.
“Godfather and uncle. He’s my mom’s brother.” I’m so used to people knowing this connection.
“Cool. Well, yeah. I worked with troubled teens. Kinda different than this.” He chuckles, holding up the construction paper to emphasize his point. “But I can be more candid with the high school classes so that’s good.”
“It makes sense. My students like it when you come in if that helps, and I hear them talking about what you’ve taught them so far.”
“That’s good to know.” His brows lift and his mouth scrunches as if he didn’t think it was possible.
“Smile.” I shove his shoulder playfully. “It’s a good thing. You may not be fighting crime, but you’re making a difference.”
“Is that why you became a teacher?” His eyes hold mine captive.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “It’s silly, but I like that I can help kids learn in more ways than one. Sure, I teach them to read and how to do math, but I can also foster other types of teachings like self-esteem, forgiveness, and acceptance.”
“That’s important,” he says. “I bet you’re great at it.”
I smile as his compliment. “Thanks,” I whisper, returning my eyes to the books on the top shelf. I reach up on my tiptoes and pull one down.
“Hey, is this it?” I practically shove the book in Nate’s face.
“Yeah. I remember her now mentioning it had a symbol of a compass on it as well. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Anyway, should we go?” He straightens, masking his emotions once again.
“Yup.”
He turns the knob but the door doesn’t open. “Uhhh…this isn’t opening.”
“What do you mean?” My eyes widen, and my hands clench at my sides.
Nate pulls the knob tightly and stares at me. “It’s stuck.”
“Let me try.” I push forward, crushing my body to his as I turn the knob and pull so hard I crash into him but the door doesn’t open. “Great,” I mumble, my heart racing.
I turn to face him, and we’re toe to toe. Suddenly, the space is tiny and hot. Why is it so hot in here? Sweat builds on the back of my neck, and I lift my hands to tie my hair up until I realize I don’t have a hair tie.
“Shit.” I move back and lean against the door.
“Are you okay?” Nate bends down to look into my eyes.
“I’m fine,” I breathe out, drying my palms on my skirt. “It’s all good. We aren’t going to die in here.”
“You’re claustrophobic,” he states, not asks.
“I’m not.” I shake my head. “I go in elevators just fine.”
“Yeah, but you’ve never been stuck in one.”
“True.” I gulp a deep breath. “It’s hot in here, right?” I fan my face with my hand.