Chapter Nine
Julia awoke early Monday morning, unusually before her obnoxious alarm. It wasn’t that she had enough sleep–she was awake for more than half of the night–she was excited for change. She’s functioned on autopilot the entire last year, going through the motions and dodging the punches as they came. A break from normalcy could be just what she needed. Seeing Erin again was a bonus too, more so than she’d ever admit.
By the time Erin strolled in, one hour earlier than expected, Julia was there for at least thirty minutes. She stood talking to Keegan at the front desk, laughing about how Ben made a valiant attempt to carry her up the stairs at their home the previous night as she continuously stumbled.
“It’s impressive to have the skill to fall up a flight of stairs,” Julia laughed, holding a yellow folder stuffed with color-coded schedules and faculty contacts to her chest.
“He should have left me on the couch.”
Meanwhile, in the doorway, Erin stood frozen. Julia’s gaze lifted to meet Erin’s, taking in her well-tailored suit, fitted to her curves. Her hair flowed in natural, beachy waves, artfully parted to the side. It blended so beautifully with the gray color of her outfit and the darkness of her heels. She wore mauve lipstick, forcing her tan skin to pop against its paleness.
“Oh!” Erin stammered, momentarily taken aback. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone else would be here so early.”
“We’re early birds here at Kleinton.” Julia’s smile widened as she continued, “do you often make a habit of breaking into unfamiliar schools so early?”
Erin’s smile matched Julia’s as she interrupted, twirling the ID badge and keys she had been given the day before around her finger. “If only you hadn’t given me a key.”
“Fair point,” Keegan replied, standing from the desk. “I know we briefly had an introduction Friday and the phone call Saturday, but I’m sure you’ve met a lot of people since then. I’m Keegan Marrow, Dr. Jenner’s assistant.”
“Erin Calanis.”
Keegan reached across and shook Erin’s hand. “It’s so nice to see you again.” She flourished thestatement, and Julia fought the urge to roll her eyes. Julia stepped across the office and extended her hand.
“Nice to see you again, Ms. Calanis.” As their palms met, Julia couldn’t help but feel a gentle tingle, giving rise to small bumps beneath her clothes.
“You as well, Dr. Jenner,” Erin replied, her voice low and intimate. She allowed her hand and eyes to linger just a little too long. She’s not going to make it easy.
“If you’d come with me,” Julia suggested, breaking the tension, “I’ll show you where you’ll be working for the short-term, and then Keegan will take you on a tour of the school.”
“Absolutely, that sounds great,” Erin agreed, nodding as she unwrapped her green scarf from around her neck.
Julia took the lead, guiding Erin down the hallway lined with administrative offices. Her own was on the right side, just a few steps away. As they approached the door, Julia noticed her thumb involuntarily rubbing against her ring finger again. Dammit.
She held the door open, using the small task to divert her attention from her restless hand. Her office, one of the largest in the building, had plenty of room for two people to work independently. At first she wasn’t sure it would be a good idea–having the potential to be distracted by Erin all day–but it could have its benefits too. After a long conversation to herself–yes, she found herself doing that again–she knew everything would be fine. Hopefully.
“I know this isn’t ideal, but with the recent expansion in students, we’re using all of our classrooms and offices at the moment,” Julia apologized. “I’m working on securing you your own space, but would you mind sharing my office in the meantime?”
“Oh,” she said, appearing surprised, “of course not.”
Julia gestured towards the desk, already filled with pencils and paper, as she placed the folder she was carrying atop it. “You can set up here. Feel free to hang your coat and store your bags. You can come and go as you please, and any meetings I have will be held in the conference room instead of here.”
On the outside, Julia was a mask of solid confidence. On the inside? Everything hurdled at her at once in a hurricane level wind. Was it too late for her to convince Erin she had the wrong school? Was January too early to resign?
“I wouldn’t be imposing?” asked Erin, her eyes not leaving the personal office area Julia arranged earlier that morning, “because I’m more than happy working out of the conference room, too.”
“Not at all. It would be nice to talk more about what you’re observing.”
She stepped towards her own desk and took a sip of her coffee as Erin settled in. She watched out of the corner of her eye as she gracefully slid off her jacket and adjusted the front of her shirt. Just that little bit of movement was more than distracting–her eyes never leaving those curls. This will most definitely, without a doubt, 100%, not be fine.
“And if you ever need any privacy or a moment to yourself, I’m happy to step out or you can use the conference room if it isn’t scheduled,” Julia offered, desperate to break the silence. Erin nodded and opened her mouth to respond when Keegan appeared in the doorway.
“Ready, Ms. Calanis?” Keegan asked, peering in from the hallway.
“Absolutely.” She turned back to her briefcase, searching for something. “Just let me find my notebook, and I’ll be right there.”
“There’s one on the desk if you need,” Julia spoke quietly from her desk. Not looking up from the planner, she began filling in with nothing but nonsense numbers.
“Thank you, Dr. Jenner.”
There was a shuffling noise as she picked up the notebook. Julia listened as their voices faded down the hallway, merging with the distance. With their departure, she refocused on her routine. She worked on financial reports, reviewing and responding to budget increase requests and last-minute supply orders.
After Erin returned from the tour with Keegan, she spent the entire morning working at her new desk. Julia tried not to bother her, tried to give her space while she studied schedules and initial plans. No matter how badly she wanted to ask her all of the questions that burned in her mind from last night, she let her be.
When lunch rolled around, Erin left to explore the halls before her first department meeting. Julia found herself absentmindedly glancing up at her desk even after it was empty, half-expecting to admire the way she’d run her fingers through her hair while deep in thought.
Usually, she couldn’t wait for someone to leave her office. It was her sanctuary; a place where she could take a break from the hecticness of the day. She hated when it was invaded, but she didn’t feel that way with Erin.
When she wasn’t there, it suddenly felt too still. The only sounds were the periodic chimes of bells at the end of a class period or the faint shuffling of feet through the cracks beneath closed doors. When she came back and settled in that same chair, things just felt right.
Throughout the day, they remained in the same room, working side by side. Their fingers danced across keyboards, papers organized into files, and subtle sighs escaping into the air, all amidst near silence. It was something about the way she moved, the way her nose scrunched up when she ran out of ideas, that forced Julia to smile at every chance.
In the midst of being lost in thought, Julia jerked up from her desk, almost spilling her freshly brewed coffee, as a loud clamor echoed in the distance. She heard high-pitched screams reverberate off the concrete walls throughout the office.
She rushed outside, looking both ways to see where the commotion was coming from. It wasn’t in the cafeteria wing, which was just past the glass windows to her right. It wasn’t from any other administrator’s offices. As she turned the corner to the main office, the scene unfolded before her eyes. Two girls stood just outside the door, one with a fistful of the other’s blond hair. Two teachers stood to the side, attempting to mediate the situation without directly intervening.
Just as she opened the main office door to break up the contact, she watched as Erin rushed around the corner from the cafeteria. Even in heels and a suit, she didn’t hesitate as she pushed herself between the two girls. They reached out their arms, desperate to still grab the other even through the adult’s body.
“What’s going on here?” Julia’s voice thundered through the hallway, causing everyone to freeze.
The two girls remained in their suspended poses, their arms outstretched around Erin. Taking advantage of the momentary pause, Erin gently held the arm of the blond girl and guided her a few steps back. Julia positioned herself next to the other with bulging eyes.
“She stole my phone and sent a text to my boyfriend!” the dark-haired girl closest to Julia screeched, her voice filled with immature indignation.
“I did not!” the other retorted, equally whiny and high-pitched.
“Did too!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
The two girls couldn’t have been any older than in 9th grade. Fuzzy toys hung off the backpacks they haphazardly threw to the ground. The girl lunged once again towards her counterpart, but Erin swiftly positioned her body between them, shielding them from physical contact. Meanwhile, Julia extended her arm, gently holding back the dark-haired girl with an open palm.
“Danielle,” Julia warned.
Their eyes locked in a brief but intense exchange. Gradually, Danielle lowered her gaze and released the tension in her body, signaling she could be let go.
Erin was now facing the other. With almost a thousand students, Julia didn’t know the faces of all of them. This was one of those instances that small, intimate numbers would’ve been beneficial. She noticed Erin’s hands resting softly on the girl’s shoulders.
“Life is full of choices,” Erin whispered, fury still evident on the girl’s reddened face. “This is a choice. You always have a choice. At some point, your choices will add up. They will matter. What you do right now will matter. So, what’s your choice?”
Erin let go of her and stepped aside. The redness in the girl’s face pinkened, her shoulders slumped. With a quick turn, she dramatically opened the office door and took a seat in a chair just outside Julia’s office. Julia let out a quiet sigh, feeling a mixture of admiration and relief.
Julia led Danielle inside and sat her in a chair about ten paces away from the other girl. They seemed calm enough to be in the same room. Keegan came down the hallway, confused by the puzzled looks of the faculty in the hall. She knew she missed something.
“Thank you, everyone.” Julia dismissed the onlooking students with faces pressed against the wall and the teachers who tried to help. She looked back at Erin, who held her hands on her waist as she released a held breath. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Do you often have fist fights in the hallway?” she joked.
Julia immediately panicked. The realization that she was under a microscope loomed in the distance. Every single moment, including that incident, had the potential to end up in a report. It went beyond academic matters.
She became too comfortable. She fell into the familiar nature of Erin too fast. She knew at that moment how wrong she was. She couldn’t do this. This was such a big mistake. It was risking far too much, far too soon.
“No,” she responded as seriously as she could. “This hardly ever happens. Please, don’t–” Before she could finish her sentence Erin stepped closer, vigorously shaking her head.
“Julia,” her voice was so soft, her hand gracing the side of her arm, “please don’t panic that I’m going to go and tattle on everything that happens in my presence.”
“You are here to observe and report.”
“Educational practices and from what I see, there’s nothing concerning. You’re doing fine.”
Erin gave a small smile, but all Julia could focus on was her hand on her arm. She looked down at it, the way her slender fingers wrapped so effortlessly around her skin. Julia looked back up and met Erin’s eyes. She held them, completely forgetting where they were.
Erin suddenly dropped her hand, took a step back, and then headed towards the office without another word. Julia watched as she stopped and spoke to Keegan before disappearing behind her door.
Julia took a moment and composed herself, taking a deep breath and then wiping her sweaty palms on her pants before making a move. She used one of the conference rooms to debrief with each girl–after school detention being the punishment for both. By the time they left, the girls were laughing and chatting animatedly down the hallway, their conflict forgotten.
That was how the next several weeks went. Julia diffused situation after situation, all while Erin supported from her side. Erin fit right in, took immediate control without ever second guessing. She was a natural within the school, and the faculty was already loosening up around her, relying on her expertise. Just like Julia fit next to her in The Tipsy Hatter, she fit within the community of Kleinton.
Somehow Erin could remain focused on her work in the office, while Julia had to make a conscious effort to maintain her distance and professionalism. Erin pretended not to see her watching, and she tried her best to focus her eyes on anything else. It didn’t matter how hard she tried; she found herself falling far too deep in the comfort it gave her to look up and see those walnut colored curls. She caught herself getting more and more distracted by the sound of her breathing, the way she sighed at the paperwork before her.
There were times when Julia looked up and smiled after meeting Erin’s eyes. She’d pull away, embarrassed at the fact that Erin might think she was staring. What she never accounted for was that Erin could only catch her in the act if she was looking at her, too.
Instead of scheduling time to ask questions or review findings so far, Erin slid a chair across the room. She always sat closer than she had to, leaned over more than necessary. Sometimes she asked questions she didn’t need help answering, just to breathe in the same air.
Julia told herself each day that they could do this. They could be professional without thinking anymore about those stolen kisses past midnight. But gosh those lips. Julia still lost herself in the rosiness of them, especially when she came close enough for her to smell that honeysuckle mix with vanilla–a tropical escape she wanted the first flight off to.
“Dr. Jenner,” Erin began, swiveling her chair away from her desk to face Julia.
The soft light filtered through the dusty gray clouds and threw fragmented patterns on the walls. The lights were off, dimly soothing their tired eyes in dusk.
“We’ve talked about this.” She smiled, closing her laptop screen. “You can call me Julia. After almost four weeks of working in this office together, listening to me jab on at every meeting, you get to call me by my first name.”
“Julia,” she corrected herself. “I have a really great start to my report, but I think it would be a nice idea to begin my administrative inspection now.” Leaning on her chair, she looked at Julia with curiosity.
“I don’t think that should be a problem,” Julia replied, her heart beating just a little faster.
Erin turned back to her desk and grabbed a sticky note, preparing to jot down some notes. She looked so unbothered, so natural in her position.
“Who would you recommend as a good starting point?”
Julia’s voice dropped to a quiet tone as she suggested, “how about me, right now?”
Erin turned towards her, one leg swung over the other. She held her pen just below her bottom lip. She had that hot professional look going on–purposefully messy hair sitting just below her shoulders as she smiled past that pen.
“Sounds perfect.”
Her lip gloss reflected the light from the window, accentuating the tanned tones of her complexion. Julia held back every impulse to stand up and kiss those cupid bows. What had that woman done to her–to undo her like that?
Erin rose from her desk and took a seat in the chair opposite her. She leaned against her arm the same casual way she had before, pressing her weight into Julia’s desk while maintaining eye contact. A smile played on her lips, the pen still poised on her chin. She was so unintentionally beautiful, so graceful in a way that made Julia’s breath continuously hiccup.
Opening a notebook before her, Erin spoke, her words sounding like a question but carrying the weight of a statement. “You’ve increased your budget threshold by 1.5%?”
“Yes,” Julia sat up just a little straighter, pulling a notepad from the side of her desk.
Erin inquired further. “What’s the purpose of that, considering Kleinton has maintained the same school taxes for the past decade, at least?”
“Jumping right in, I see,” Julia joked. “Well, as you know,” Julia began in her teacher voice, the one that called attention and put her in the spot of authority, “we’re allowed a budgetary increase up to 3%, which we haven’t done in some time. We’ve had an increase in enrollment numbers. In response to this, we needed to address the necessary demand for more faculty and spaces to teach those students. We all understand the benefit of lower-class sizes.”
“Completely understandable.”
“Yes, it is. Of course, we have a plan to reduce the budget threshold again once we can secure funded grants. This is just a transitional period.”
Erin nodded, writing down notes to analyze later.
“What do you have to say about the teacher who was suspended without pay last school year, and then fired after allegations regarding texting underage students?” Erin asked it in a cool voice that mimicked a reporter, but her face didn’t match what should have been cool serene. A mix of concern and regret masked her as if that was the last question she ever wanted to ask.
Julia gasped in utter disbelief. She didn’t wait for a response or explanation. She’d be the last person to condone such behavior. The teacher was found innocent at the end of the grueling investigation, and text message history even proved it. Two senior students failed their final and instead of taking summer school before graduation, they came up with a lie. The rumors ran too deep, and the board forced Julia to release the teacher of his duties with a severance package. It was Kleinton’s image, after all.
Julia couldn’t help but let her emotions color her words.
“I would ask you, would you want to be judged the rest of your life based on our character in that bathroom many weeks ago?” Julia tried not to flush the color of Erin’s lips. “That one simple action could be grossly misinterpreted. That teacher did nothing wrong other than rightfully fail two students. He should still be here, but he’s unemployed with no chance of ever getting another job in education because no publicity is better than bad publicity for KHS.”
Erin’s eyes widened in astonishment as she absorbed Julia’s reaction. Her voice grew more pointed and harsher towards the end, momentarily forgetting who she was speaking to. Julia couldn’t help but carry the weight of guilt upon herself. She should have fought the board harder–should have reminded them that their integrity was more important than the bad press.
“I’ll note that,” Erin said with a nod, looking down to scribble something on her paper.
“No,” Julia pleaded, shaking her head and pressing her hand onto her eyes. “Please don’t include that. Just say I had no comment or that it has already been addressed.”
Erin raised her gaze, lines of concern etched into her skin with a thin marker. “I’m sorry I had to ask that,” she sighed, her voice soft and quiet. “There are some things that are under my prerogative, and there are those I have to. I’m sorry.”
Julia believed her. She didn’t know why. All she knew was that she did.
Erin asked next about department overtures, after-school programs, and remediation efforts. The last, mostly the focus of her interrogation. She asked about her involvement in the teacher preparedness mentoring program, as well as teacher retention strategies. They reviewed the cost per student of after-school sports and whether budget lines should be increased or decreased based on outcome. They analyzed regents scores and scoured over students’ grades. They found chemistry was the lowest of all scores.
“What’s your plan?”
“My plan?” asked Julia, already exhausted from Erin’s relentless line of questioning already. She was cute as a button, but holy hell, could she beat information out of her.
“To increase Chemistry Regent scores? They’re a huge component of your academic profile,” she explained, but Julia already knew all that.
“Our Chemistry teacher was one of our early retirees. We just onboarded our new hire, and fortunately, she’s a new, younger teacher. She has some incredible curriculum ideas, which we believe will contribute to significant improvements.”
“What are those ideas?”
“Well,” Julia paused as she desperately tried to recall what the teacher previously said, “I don’t quite remember the specifics.”
It was such a long couple of weeks. She barely remembered if she ate anything that day, let alone what was expressed dozens of interviews later.
“So, you only know that she has ideas?” Erin pressed on.
“Yes.”
“How do you know they’re any good if she is so new?”
“I don’t,” admitted Julia. “I trust that she will find her way and make a positive impact. She has a supportive mentor to guide her, and she just needs some time to adjust.”
“I think you should consider a more concrete plan,” suggested Erin, closing the notebook in front of her.
It really wasn’t a suggestion. She crossed one leg over the other, her pants pulled tightly across her thighs–the entire essence of a woman who meant business.
Julia wasn’t one of those people who hated being told she was wrong. She wasn’t one of those educators who thought she knew it all. She knew she didn’t, and that wasn’t a weakness.
When she was younger, her parents marveled at her buried beneath the sheets, absorbed in the stories bursting to life. They were convinced that maybe she had fallen one too many times as a toddler, jostling something loose in that beautiful mind. That wasn’t the case. She just fell in love with the feeling of absorbing words, as if each page held a gateway to an entire world of escape.
She still remembers a camping trip to the Adirondacks with her Girl Scout troop. They gathered around a campfire, perched on a rain-soaked log as the stars basked the pine trees in a luminous glow. The moonlight created shadows on their young faces that danced as they giggled.
Right before they had to split into groups to see who could find the most constellations, each little girl had to say what made them the happiest and then what their biggest fear was. They started with lighthearted answers, like cozy blankets and bedtime stories. Then, their fears ventured into the dark, spiders, and the thought of growing up and leaving their mothers.
As night ticked on and the laughter died down, it was Julia’s turn to share. She knew she was different, but she was okay with that, even then. She didn’t want to be traditional or ordinary. She wanted to be extraordinary. She wanted a life other than the one she was given.
With her bedtime book tucked beneath her leg, she told them her biggest fear was ignorance. She watched as the eyes of each girl squinted with confusion as the adults intriguingly widened. All Julia could do was laugh at the irony–laugh at the fact that she was so misunderstood when she probably understood more than all of them. That was her, though, always the one who was more interested in understanding rather than being understood.
“I can help you with a plan,” Erin offered, “if you’re interested.”
“Thank you.” Julia couldn’t help but smile back. “That would be really kind.”
“It’s kind of my job.”
“I thought your job was to report?”
“It is, but somehow I got this far in my career. So, I must know something.”
And she did. Her mind worked in such an analytic way, something Julia could never do. Julia focused on the people, on the outcomes of situations and how they affected others. It suited her well; it helped her be a better educator and administrator.
Erin, on the other hand, focused on the numbers that produced the best outcomes. She balanced the financial aspects with the actual results each action would have on the students. She peeled away the layers of each situation like a blooming onion, finding what laid beneath it all.
They scoured over reports and best practices for hours. Erin leaned over Julia’s desk, the sun setting over the tree line in the window behind her, lighting her face in hues of orange and pink. Julia could sit in that chair and watch her scour over analytics–allow the world to disappear as they laughed over absolutely nothing–any day, anywhere, anytime.
They had a great start to an improvement plan. The new Chemistry teacher would submit her curriculum weekly, and students would be assessed throughout the semester to ensure they were retaining the information. It wasn’t an assessment-based goal, even though raising the exam scores was a necessity; it was student focused to ensure that they actually understood the information and could use it later.
Julia marveled at the brilliance of the plan, realizing she wouldn’t have conceived half of it without Erin’s expertise. Erin took the lead in developing a comprehensive timeline, setting benchmarks for evaluating both the teacher’s performance and the students’ progress leading up to the regents. It was brilliant, preventing any issues before they even arose. It was Erin’s brilliant mind that saved her, in more ways than one.
As Erin leaned back in her chair, setting down her pen on the desk, a sense of relief washed over both of them. Julia, sinking into the back of her chair, rubbed her eyes wearily.
“I think we have a great plan,” Erin stated, her voice filled with confidence.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She couldn’t stop admiring Erin. She was utterly speechless. It’d been such a long day, such a long week. Everything seemed to crash down at once, but there was Erin to help her bear the weight.
Julia glanced at the piles of budget approvals that still awaited her attention. For the first time in a long time, she realized she didn’t want to take them home. She’d rather walk through her front door and fall into a heap onto the couch covered in a fluffy blanket–HGTV playing in the background–while sipping on pinot grigio instead of staring at a computer screen. Work suddenly felt like a distraction she didn’t want, and that was a strange feeling.
“Are you not happy with it?” Erin asked, her head tilted to the side like she always did when she was in thought.
“No, that’s not it at all.” Julia forced a small smile. “I mean, yes. The plan is amazing, something tangible and definitely reasonable. It holds us accountable. Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome. You just seem–” she trailed off as her gaze flickered towards the window, not finishing her thought. How can she see what’s beneath?
“I seem?”
Erin’s expression shifted. “Never mind.”
Even in the dimness of that office with only two windows in the whole room, she glowed. Julia caught herself giving her one of those stupid smiles–the type that would escape from the fortress she built when she thought no one was looking.
It should’ve been embarrassing. They should’ve pulled their eyes away–especially Julia, who fought so hard to squash all the feelings that kept trying to poke through thin ice–but they sat there staring into each other’s eyes, completely tantalized in absolutely nothing.
Julia broke the spell, averting her gaze and busying herself with gathering her hair into a clip from her desk drawer. She needed to regain control, to push aside the thoughts and feelings that threatened to surface. But that was difficult when she had to consciously not think about Erin. To not picture her at The Tipsy Hatter, her perfect waves tangled in her hands as she sipped her drink. She had to stop herself from smiling when she heard her laugh, stop herself from watching her walk away.
Closing her planner, Julia glanced up only to find Erin still looking at her with that gorgeous smile; unashamed and unbothered. It still boggled her mind how she was so unapologetically confident, unapologetically her. She didn’t try to make herself be small, didn’t try to fit into anyone’s box. She was all her own–a porcelain doll on the very top shelf of a glass case–to be admired but never held.
“What?” grinned Julia, completely embarrassed at the thought of those eyes scrutinizing her that long.
What could Erin possibly see that she couldn’t? What did she find so interesting in Julia’s pale complexion and messy bun?
“I know we haven’t known each other for long,” Erin began, her hand casually outstretched on the desk as if silently hoping Julia would reach for it, “but I want you to know that you can talk to me if you ever need someone.”
Did she see it? Did Julia drop the silver sheen mask that had become a part of her cells–a curse to bear with no prince’s kiss written in her story? Or were Erin’s eyes made to set upon her flesh, a permanent built-in x-ray mechanism to identify even the slightest change?
Julia did trust her. She trusted her with more than she should have. There she was, vulnerable and admitting the faults within her own school, relying on Erin’s expertise to fix it, when it could be the very thing in the report that reflected poorly on her. She even trusted her with herself, to not have to drape that invisible cloak across her body while in her presence.
She didn’t really think about it until then. She never considered exactly how deep that trust had already run–a vast, unexplored cavern in the deepest recesses of the ocean. She promised herself she wouldn’t get close, that she’d keep a distance to separate out the personal. Even in that professionalism, they grew closer. They fit together so well, too well.
She was always too afraid to stand too close, to allow her gaze to linger too long unless in the sanctity of that office. They’d go to the copy room together, talking as they readied material for another workshop or meeting. Last week the printer jammed and Erin leaned over the machine as she opened the side compartment to identify the problem. She began searching for the runaway paper, sure that it must have just been crumbled between overused aluminum teeth.
Julia knew it was a two-person job–one person to hold the roller while the other slowly inched out the paper–but she couldn’t bring herself to lean that close, couldn’t allow Erin’s vanilla scent to soak that deep into her nostrils. Instead, she stood awkwardly against the wall, reaching farther than she needed to avoid having someone walk by and get the wrong impression.
When they’d work from one desk in her office, both leaning over the same document as they analyzed reports, she’d jump at a knock at the door. She was always afraid someone might notice the way her body gravitated just inches too close, that someone might read her mind–but she was the only one who knew the depth of the moat she built around her heart, sinking anything foreign or domestic that came close enough to breach the gates.
At that moment, it didn’t matter anymore. She stopped worrying about what look, what word, what touch could be taken wrong. She reached out and placed her hand over Erin’s warm flesh. This is normal. This is what friends do.
“I do, but I am okay.”
Julia allowed her hand to stay there just a second longer. She felt the gentle motion of Erin’s thumb tracing circles on the tender skin above her knuckle. Or was that in her head? Like the way electricity could be felt between cells?
Too close. This is all coming too close.
“It’s getting late,” Julia sighed. “You should get home.”
Julia gave a weak smile as she pulled her hand back. She closed the rest of the folders on her desk, creating a mountain of work to take home with her–a distraction to fall into, even though she didn’t want it. She could’ve stayed and got it done, could’ve drank another cold cup of coffee as she fought the tiredness behind her eyes, but she knew Erin would’ve stayed too.
“Goodnight, Julia,” Erin said, rising from her desk. Her voice hung in the air, almost pleading for Julia to ask her to stay.
“Goodnight, Erin.”