Chapter 4
Iris
I still feel like I’m floating when I arrive at school early on Monday morning. The sun has only begun to come out, and the room is still dark, but I breathe in that familiar smell of paint and pencil, taking comfort in the one place in the school that belongs to me.
I get here early every day to do some painting before class, but last night I fell asleep wrapped up in Nate’s hoodie, and when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t get myself to get up.
I’m rushing to get everything ready in time for my first class, arranging the trays of watercolor paint for today’s assignment, when I hear a light knock on my door and the sound of it opening.
“Ms. Patel?”
“Good morning, Addie,” I say warmly, “It’s not time for class yet, is it?”
She steps inside, her shoes squeaking against the floor. “No, it’s not. But I usually hang out with Em before class, and she’s got homework to finish…” She trails off, disappointment evident in her tone.
“So I saw you and Coach Wesley at the festival.” She smiles knowingly, brightening at the mention of my love life. “You two seemed pretty cozy…”
I nearly drop the palette in my hand.
“Oh, uh…” I let out an awkward laugh, nerves beginning to make themselves known in my chest. “I suppose that was a pretty public place for a first date.”
She squeals. “I knew it! You guys are so cute! I totally ship it!”
“Oh god.” I cover my face with my hands with an embarrassed groan. “Please don’t tell anyone else about this.”
“I won’t, I promise, your secret is safe with me. Did you have fun?”
“I did,” I say, smiling now that I think back to last night. “More fun than I expected. He was so sweet, and funny, and very handsome.”
“Wow,” she sighs wistfully, “that’s so romantic.”
It was.
It was everything I ever dreamed of.
“Did Coach Wesley win you anything at the festival?”
“Not quite,” I say with a smirk.
“Em won me this huge stuffed cat!” She says, her voice filling with excitement. “Like, almost bigger than me!”
“That’s so sweet. Are you two dating?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.
And somehow, Addie’s face does multiple things all at once.
First horror, then disbelief, and finally embarrassment, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “What? No! Of course not! Emily’s my best friend. Since, like, second grade.”
Oh. Oops.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” I tell her, apologetically, “It’s sweet how you two are with each other. I’ve never had a friend like that.”
“Em is the best!” She perks up, the awkward moment forgotten. “And it’s okay, it’s cool that you thought that. People around here usually aren’t so open-minded.”
“I’m glad you think so,” I say, knowing too well how right she is. “Everyone deserves to feel like they can be themselves here, and they can, at least in this room.”
She ducks her head, fingers worrying at the edge of her notebook, “Um… Ms. Patel, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” I lean on the edge of my desk so we’re almost level.
“Would you look at some of my drawings?” I can see the nerves in the way her thumb continues to pick at her book, her shoulders hunched like she expects me to say no.
“Addie, I would love to.”
“Really? Because… I wanna be a tattoo artist one day. I mean, maybe. I know it sounds stupid—”
“It doesn’t sound stupid at all.”
Her posture relaxes. “I just- I want to make art that matters to people. And I know I have a lot to learn, but—”
“Show me what you’ve got,” I nod toward her notebook.
She flips through pages of doodles and half-finished cartoons until she gets to floral designs, snakes, and shaded skulls all in bold lines. She hasn’t quite settled on an individual style yet, but the lines are steady, and the colors work well together.
“These are very good,” I tell her, honestly.
“You think so?”
“I do. And if you’d like, you can come in early, or stay after school, and we can work on your technique and practice some more designs.”
Her face lights up, “That would be amazing! Thank you, Ms. Patel. Seriously.”
“It’s no problem. I’m happy you asked.”
“You’re the coolest teacher I’ve ever had. Like, by far.”
“Well, don’t tell the others that,” I pause before adding, “But I’m glad you think so.”
The bell rings, echoing sharp and bright through the halls, and Addie sits down at her desk. While I’m waiting for the rest of the students to arrive, I think back to my own experience in this room, when Ms. Price helped me grow into the artist I am today.
I wouldn’t be here without her, and now, I have the opportunity to help Addie the way Ms. Price helped me.
By the time I make my way to the teachers’ lounge for a snack, my good mood hasn’t dampened. For the first time in my life, things are going well. My job, my friends, Nate.
A nagging voice in my head disagrees, tells me that things won’t stay this good for long, but I don’t know. Maybe it’s foolish to get my hopes up about Nate, but how can I not?
Our date was so wonderful, and that kiss…
Layla’s here, nursing a cup of coffee, munching on a muffin. When she sees me, she sits up straight. “There she is,” she drawls, setting her mug down. “Iris Patel, local lover girl.”
“Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting.” she follows me to the counter where I’m pulling the box of tea out of the cabinet. “You better spill, babe. I need every detail.”
“It was a date. What is there to tell?” I say, fussing with my tea bag to keep my hands busy.
“Did you kiss?”
I nod, chewing on my lip.
“Ahh! How was it?!” she exclaims, her volume earning her a look from another teacher, and I shoot her a glare of my own.
I don’t want anyone else to find out about this.
“Okay, okay, sorry. But I’m happy for you,” she says, lowering her voice. “You look lighter today, less miss grumpy pants. More in love.”
I duck my head, staring down at my cup. “It felt… normal, Layla. I felt normal. I’ve never felt that way before.”
“You deserve normal, Iris. Better than normal.”
“I keep waiting for it to fall apart,” I tell her, letting myself voice the concerns that have been swimming around my head since our date. “Like maybe I’m borrowing someone else’s life for a minute, and he’ll realize he’s making a mistake—”
“Trust me, girl, from what I’ve seen of Nate, you’ve got that man wrapped around your finger. He’s probably already building y’all a house, or whatever southern men do to impress their women.”
That makes me laugh, because I wouldn’t put it past him.
“Now listen, if you’re happy, I’m happy. And also very invested,” she adds. “So don’t leave out the details next time. If I have to find out you’re getting married from a student, I’m gonna be pissed. As your best friend, you have to tell me these things.”
“I’ll tell you,” I promise, “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just didn’t want to have to tell you if it went—” I frown. “Wait. How did you find out?”
“Oh, sweetie. The whole school knows. You and Coach Wesley being an item is the talk of the halls right now.”
My stomach drops. “The whole school?”
She smirks, nodding, “Yep. Word travels fast around here. And it’s not like you two were exactly subtle.”
“Oh god,” I groan, covering my heated face with my hands. “I didn’t want everyone to know. What if—”
“Hey,” she interrupts, “Stop. Seriously. It’s not a bad thing. You’re both happy. And all anybody’s talking about is how sweet you two are.”
I peek out from behind my hands, mortified, but oddly touched. “They are?”
“Uh, yeah. Half the girls think it’s the most romantic thing ever, two teachers in love. The other half wanna steal him, so watch your back.”
That pulls a giggle from me, the tension easing from my shoulders. “I can’t blame them, he is cute.”
“But he only has eyes for you.”
When I get back to my classroom, my heart feels lighter than it has in a long time. There are still secrets between Nate and me, and I know that I shouldn’t get too invested.
But maybe, just for now, I can let myself be happy.
Footsteps have barely stopped echoing down the hall when Nate steps into my classroom, his hair slightly messy, like he’s been running a hand through it all day.
He looks tired.
But when he sees me, his face relaxes. “Hey,” I say, with a small smile. “Rough day?”
He crosses the room in quick strides and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into a crushing hug.
At first, I’m too surprised to do anything but stand there, feeling the solid weight of his body pressed to mine, touching all of me.
But I can feel the tension running through his body, so I save the freak-out for later. We can do this, we’re sort of dating now.
I wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him back.
He exhales shakily, like he’s been holding his breath all day, finally letting it go as he relaxes into my embrace. His forehead dips against my shoulder, and I can feel the way his chest rises and falls against my own. “Been wanting to see you all day,” he murmurs, low and rough.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say, hugging him tighter.
I hate to see him like this, that his concern for his brother is weighing so heavily on him.
For a long time, the only sound in the room is our breathing and the occasional locker shutting. When the halls go silent, he pulls back to look at me, keeping his hands on my waist. “Sorry, I shouldn’t barge in and… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You don’t have to apologize. You can always come here. And you can have as many hugs as you want.”
“As many hugs as I want? You sure about that, Darlin’?” He asks, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch warm and careful. “Just seeing you makes me feel better.”
My heart clenches at the tenderness, and I have the feeling that I’m already in way over my head, but I still stand on the tips of my toes and close the distance between our lips for the second time.
He sighs against my mouth, his hands tightening at my waist. My world narrows down to the scratch of his stubble and the warmth of his breath, and the quiet relief that floods through me when he kisses me back.
When we part, his forehead stays pressed to mine. “I needed that.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
The energy between us feels heavy all of a sudden, and I can’t stop my eyes from trailing back down to his lips.
Kissing Nate could become addictive.
“You know…” I pull back, trying to ease the tension out of the air before things go further. “There’s a rumor going around school.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks with a crooked grin, telling me he’s already heard and feeling smug about it.
“Apparently, the art teacher is dating the football coach.”
“Scandalous. Wonder what kind of woman she must be to put up with a guy like that.”
“Probably very patient,” I sigh dramatically. “And unbelievably tolerant of bad jokes.”
“Hey now,” he protests, but his smile widens, “My jokes ain’t that bad.”
I hum in disagreement. “They kind of are.”
His thumb keeps grazing back and forth over my hip, and it takes everything in me to ignore the reaction my body is having. It makes me want to squirm away and lean into it all at once, and when I look up at him, there’s a knowing smirk on his face.
“Stop,” I tell him, trying to pull out of his grip.
“Stop what?” He asks, all fake innocence, holding on tighter.
“You know what.” I glare, “If you’re feeling up to being an asshole, you can at least make yourself useful and help me clean up.” I gesture toward the messy tables left over from the students’ projects.
He chuckles, that low, rough laugh that makes my stomach flip in a way I’m still not used to. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, giving me a mock salute before stepping back.
I watch him roll up his sleeves, and for a second, my brain stops working altogether. “Where do you want me?”
I turn away to save what little dignity I have left. “Pick up the paper and stack the palettes, please. And try not to be a distraction.”
We fall into a rhythm, wiping down the tables, gathering the mess the students left behind. Every so often, I catch him watching me, and even though it makes my heart flutter, I try my best to ignore it.
“Seriously, though, thanks.” He says, tossing a handful of crumpled paper into the recycling bin.
“For making you clean?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.
“For letting me come here. And taking my mind off things.”
When the room no longer looks like the aftermath of a watercolor explosion, Nate speaks up again. “You got plans tonight?”
“No,” I say casually, an attempt not to sound too eager. “Why?”
“Thought maybe you’d want to grab dinner. I got practice with the team, but then after, I’m free for the rest of the evening.”
“I’d like that.”
“I figured. Since you’ve been checking me out for the last half hour.”
That playful grin returns, and I roll my eyes, but I couldn’t stop myself from smiling if I wanted to. “That is so not true. Text me when you’re home?”
“I will.”
On his way out, he catches my hand, squeezing it gently before leaning over and kissing my cheek. And then he’s gone, leaving me all alone to think about his arms and his hands on my body and-
Ugh!