everything all right? I thought I saw you run from the cafeteria when I was getting coffee. I’ve been looking around for you.” One of his handsome dimples appears as his mouth curves at my confused blink. He shrugs. “The student cafe serves better coffee than what they brew in the teacher’s lounge.”
“Oh. Um.” I dust my dirty hands against the apron and flutter my fingers against my hair, hoping I don’t look like a total mess. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” He steps into the room and weaves through the other worktables to get to me. His gaze shifts to Mrs. Horne for a moment, absorbed in her paperwork, before returning to me. With a soft smile, he puts his hand on my shoulder. “You can always come to me if you need to talk.”
The heat filling my cheeks now is a different kind. Mr. Coleman is my favorite teacher, even above Mrs. Horne. He truly cares about connecting with us, and I admire him for it.
“Thank you.” I’m smiling for the first time since that dimly lit science room. “You’re so kind.”
“You’re at a difficult time in your life,” he says, his voice soothing and warm. His eyes sparkle with his smile and his shoulders shake with a short laugh. “It wasn’t that long ago for me. I want you to know I understand what you’re going through.”
I return his smile. I’m about to offer to bring him the second loaf of challah that my dough will yield when I catch sight of someone hovering in the door. My blood turns to ice and it becomes difficult to breathe all over again.
Connor looms in the doorway with a black, dangerous expression.
How long has he been there? Did he hunt me down, waiting for me to emerge?
He meets my eye and crooks his finger to call me over.
Can hearts turn into rabbits? That’s what mine feels like, racing around.
He’s the reason I ran to my sanctuary at school, and now he wants me to go to him just like that? That unfamiliar, violent urge returns. I draw a fortifying breath and rub my forehead, turning back to Mr. Coleman.
“Actually, I was, um.” A nervous laugh escapes me. “Just cooling my head off, but I feel better now. I should get to class.”
Mr. Coleman’s expression shifts to something harder to read as he glances between us. “I’ll write you a late slip. Come with me and we can chat about it on the way.”
Connor steps into the room, silent as death. He picks up my sweater from the apron hook where I left it.
Frazzled, I swipe my phone from the worktable. “No, please. I’m okay. My boyfriend is waiting for me.”
I pause, closing my eyes. It just rolled off my tongue. What is wrong with me?
Connor stills, too, watching me curiously. He tips his head to the side and lifts a brow. My stomach rolls unpleasantly.
Did I make a mistake? Isn’t that what he wanted from me?
I open my mouth, but Mr. Coleman pats my shoulder. “Well, just remember what I said, okay? I’m always here for you, Thea.”
With another awkward laugh, I nod and scurry across the room to Connor, where he seems to be kneading the material of my sweater, his hands flexing. He’s locked in a stare with Mr. Coleman as I struggle out of the dirty apron, dumping it in the laundry basket.
“Good girl.” He mutters so quietly I’m the only one who can hear it as he hands my sweater over.
“Marina, I have dough in the proofer,” I say, sad to abandon my challah.
“I’ll take care of it so it’s ready to bake when you come back for class later,” she says.
Connor puts his arm around my shoulders and guides me out of the culinary classroom.
We walk in silence through the hall for a minute before he stops. “We’ll start tomorrow. You shouldn’t have done what you did back there, the lunch room. You just butted in and…” He pushes out a harsh breath. “I got caught up, but I didn’t mean to make you cry.” His jaw clenches. “Clean slate?”
As if I could forget everything? Yeah, right.
Worst of all, if he really needed my help—before he broke my heart—I would have helped him out, no questions asked because that’s the kind of person I am.
I huff, crossing my arms. “Are you kidding? You treated me like shit.”
“I’m apologizing for it,” he growls, turning cold gray eyes on me. “I don’t have to. Would you rather