7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Ken
A nticipation buzzed through April’s faculty meeting as Ginger Hawkins adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat. I glanced over at Stella, who was busy doodling on a notepad, her curls bouncing in time with her pen.
It had been a long day, and all of us—our principal included—no doubt wanted to get home. “Alright, everyone, we’re almost done here,” she said, weariness lacing her words. “Last on the agenda is the school’s annual Spring Fling service project. This year’s theme is ‘Planting Seeds.’ Here are the assignments for each grade level’s special project.” Mrs. Hawkins turned the presentation over to Liz Marlowe, the assistant principal, before sitting down.
“Each class will be responsible for planting and maintaining their own section of the school’s new garden areas,” Ms. Marlowe explained, her eyes scanning the room to gauge our reactions. “We believe this will foster teamwork and responsibility amongst the students and help them develop an appreciation for nature.”
A wave of whispers rippled through the room, and Stella shot me a curious look. I shrugged, just as eager to hear the details.
The presentation on the tall screen behind her advanced to the next slide. Fourth and fifth graders would be planting fruit trees in the back of the school near the playground. Second and third grade would be responsible for our new community vegetable garden on the west side of the school. Kinder and first grade would be planting flowers in the front of the school along the sidewalk. “That doesn’t sound too bad,” Stella murmured.
“As long as the kids show up,” I added. “Otherwise, it will be you and me doing all the planting.” The next slide advanced and my smile froze. There it was—Marc’s name, one of the parent volunteers for our kindergarten classes.
Of course.
My stomach flipped, and heat surged through me. Why him? Part of me was thrilled at the prospect of seeing him more, while another part felt a twinge of dread.
Between after-school meetings and parent phone calls, I hadn’t been at the pick-up line since the previous week, nor seen him since our forbidden kiss—and his last appearance on PrivatelyYours.
He probably thought I hated him, but it wasn’t like I could call and explain.
My breath hitched at the thought of encountering Marc again. The vivid memory played in my mind: Marc under the cascade of water, his muscles glistening as he reached that peak, the raw sound of his release roaring in my ears… I’d sat on my bed watching, mesmerized, stroking my raging hard boner off in time with Marc on my screen, coming so hard I thought I was going to pass out.
Had he been thinking about me?
Fuck, it had my pulse racing thinking about it, even a week later.
Magic Marco had always drawn me in, but now his real-life counterpart haunted my thoughts. Those deep, smoldering eyes, the intoxicating scent that lingered when he was near, the taste of his lips still imprinted on mine—
“Alright folks, that about wraps it up,” Ginger said, shuffling her papers. “Let’s make this Spring Fling one to remember!”
The other teachers murmured their agreement and started gathering their things. Stella stood and nudged me, but I remained rooted to my chair, pulse racing as I remembered that kiss—and then pictured myself spending the day planting flowers with Marc and trying to pretend like I didn’t want him.
***
Excited children darted between planting stations at Blanco Springs Elementary on a cloudy Saturday morning, their laughter mixing with the chatter of teachers and parent volunteers striving to maintain order. Marc stood over on the side with the other parents, trying hard not to glance in my direction, just as I was trying hard to not look at him.
Christ, what a mess.
I glanced around at the herd of my kindergartners who’d come out for today’s Spring Fling. “A good turnout,” I called out to Stella, who nodded in agreement, her curly brown hair bouncing with each enthusiastic nod.
“With this many parents and kids, we should be all done by noon. Want to grab some lunch afterwards?” she asked, her warm smile making the suggestion sound even more inviting.
I nodded to Stella, a bit more at ease, then turned my head as a weathered truck pulled up to the front of the school. Its side was emblazoned with “Sunshine Gardens” in faded lettering, instantly recognizable to anyone in Blanco Springs. Then I spotted Marc walk over and shake hands with an older gentleman who exited the driver’s side—Hector Cruz, the owner of the town’s biggest nursery. Together they opened the bed of the truck and began pulling out flats of plants, handing them to parents who carried them over to the makeshift planting stations.
Then Marc turned to reach further into the truck bed, pulling out some young trees for the older students to plant. I froze, my clipboard nearly slipping from my grasp, as he hefted each container with the young trees, his biceps straining against the fabric of his snug t-shirt each time he lifted a pot and set it down next to the truck.
There he was, a living, breathing Adonis among the chaos of excited children and harried adults. My mouth went dry. The thin cotton clung to his chest, outlining every sculpted plane and curve. Then he bent to set down the flat, his jeans hugging his muscular—
Stella nudged me again, this time with a knowing grin. “Ken, you might want to close your mouth before someone notices,” she teased gently, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
I quickly snapped my mouth shut, a flush creeping up my neck. “Right, uh, back to work,” I mumbled, trying to refocus on the task at hand. But as I moved toward the planting stations, I stole one more glance at Marc, my heart beating a little faster.
“Mr. Parker!” A small voice snapped me back to reality. “Can we start planting now?”
I blinked, heat rushing to my cheeks as I realized I’d been openly staring. “Not quite yet,” I managed, clearing my throat. “We need to wait until all the plants are ready.”
As if on cue, Marc’s gaze met mine across the schoolyard. A slow smile spread across his face, and my heart threatened to burst from my chest. How was I supposed to focus on gardening when he looked like that?
Later that morning, we’d managed to gain control of the situation as each grade level headed to their designated spots for planting. Scanning the front area where my class was assigned, I saw Marc kneeling with a group of first graders, patiently showing them how to tuck marigold seedlings into the soil.
He moved effortlessly among the children, such a natural with them, and the warmth in his smile infectious. Even these young kids sensed how special he was.
“Hey there,” Stella teased as she walked up next to me, nudging me gently with her elbow. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I replied, forcing a smile as I turned toward her. “Just lost in thought for a moment.”
“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically.
My cheeks flushed at the knowing glint in her eye. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Mmhmm, sure you don’t.” She smirked, but her expression softened as she added, “Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
She was a good friend, and I was genuinely touched by her concern. “I’ll be fine, Stel. It’s…complicated, but I promise I know what I’m doing.” A bold lie, but what else was there to say?
She looked doubtful, but simply patted my arm before moving off to help a group of kindergartners who were more interested in eating the dirt than planting flowers in it.
As we worked side by side, every once in a while I’d look over at Marc—catching the way he worked with all of the kids, offering guidance and praise as he guided a group of eager students through the process of planting flower plugs, holding their attention like a professional.
He just had that kind of charm, even to these young kids.
“Alright, kids. Remember to press the soil down gently around the flower, so it stays in place,” Marc instructed with a warm smile, his hands skillfully demonstrating the process.
“Like this, Mr. Mendez?” a little boy named Tommy asked, seeking approval as he imitated Marc’s movements.
“Exactly like that. Great job!” Marc told him, pride in his voice.
I was finishing up a row of pansies when a shadow fell across my work. Glancing up, I found myself staring into Marc’s warm brown eyes. “Looking good,” he said, gesturing to the neat line of flowers.
“Thanks.” I sat back on my heels, wiping my brow with the back of my hand and trying to pretend that I wasn’t eye-level with his crotch. “I had a good teacher,” I added with a grin as I stood.
The easy banter settled something in my chest, as the knot of worry inside me unwound. This was the Marc I was drawn to—funny and kind, a warm vulnerability that made me want to hold him close…
But I couldn’t. Not here, not now, maybe not ever.
The thought sobered me, and I looked away, busying myself with brushing dirt from my jeans as he walked over to the next parent volunteer.
I tried to push the thought aside as I returned my attention to the kids, helping them finish planting the last of the flowers. Their excitement could not be contained, and I laughed along with them, caught up in their joy and wonder of planting flowers and getting dirt under their nails.
Time seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, all the planting was done. The front sidewalk was lined with colorful flowers, and we’d had enough flower plugs left over for each kinder and first grader to take a small plant home in a disposable cup.
“Alright, everyone!” Principal Hawkins called out, clapping her hands to get our attention. “It’s time to wrap up our gardening for the day. Make sure all your tools are put away and gather up any trash.”
“Come on, guys,” I said to my students, helping them pick up their supplies. “Let’s get everything cleaned up.”
As the kids began to clean up, I noticed Mia tugging at her father’s hand, pointing towards the school building. Marc nodded and said something to her, then headed inside, leaving her with one of the other teachers.
Curiosity piqued, I followed him.
I found him in my classroom, looking around. He looked up as I entered, his expression a mix of guilt and uncertainty. “Sorry, I just…Mia forgot her jacket.”
I nodded, my throat suddenly dry. Why does he always make me so nervous? “It’s fine. It’ll be chilly in the morning,” I said, instantly regretting the awkward babble. I took a step closer, my heart in my throat, thoughts swirling. Should I tell him how I feel? “Marc…”
But he interrupted me, his voice filled with urgency. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, his eyes meeting mine. “For kissing you that night, for…for everything. I didn’t mean to make things complicated.”
My heart ached at the hesitation in his voice. Didn’t he realize how much that kiss meant to me? I took a trembling breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts, and swallowing hard, I told him, “You didn’t. I mean, it is complicated, but…but that’s not your fault.”
He paused, taking a deep breath. “I …I don’t know what I’m doing. I like you, a lot, but…but I’m not sure I’m ready for this. For us. And I’m worried about Mia, about how this might affect her.” His hands fell to his side. “And I’m scared of getting hurt again, of not being enough for you.”
Not being enough for me? The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I forced myself to nod, to keep my expression neutral. “I get it. There’s a lot at stake, especially with Mia…”
“It’s not just Mia,” he said softly, stepping closer. “It’s me, too. I’m…I’m scared, Ken. Of getting hurt again, of getting you in trouble…of losing what we have.”
I reached out, my hand hovering inches from his arm. I wanted to touch him, to reassure him, but I wasn’t sure I had the right. “You won’t lose me, Marc. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you. For both of you.”
Then my hand touched his arm, and when he didn’t flinch away, my self-control cracked. He was so close I smelled the sunshine and soil on him, and I lifted my right hand, cupping his cheek.
He didn’t move away.
Then my left hand reached up for his other cheek, and I stared into his eyes, and saw that raw, open vulnerability that mirrored my own fears. The first kiss we shared had been slow and tender, a silent promise. But now as I lifted my face toward Marc’s, finding his mouth with my own—
Nothing had ever been so right and yet so terrifying. In that moment, nothing else mattered but Marc—the feel of his lips on mine, the warmth of his stubbled skin beneath my fingertips, and this hunger that flared up inside me, wanting and needing more.
Then I opened my mouth and deepened that kiss, the rest of the world fading away, leaving just us and this heart-stopping connection that set every nerve ending alight with passion. My arms wrapped around him, hands fisting the fabric of his shirt. Marc made a soft sound then tilted his head, his hand resting on the back of my head, holding me, guiding me—
But then, a sudden sound snapped me back to reality: voices coming from the hallway, getting closer, then right outside my door, turning the handle. I broke away from the kiss, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. Marc looked equally disheveled, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide.
We jumped back, hastily straightening our clothes. But the electricity between us was unmistakable.
Someone would have to be blind not to notice.
“Ken, are you—” As Stella stepped into the room, her eyes darted between Marc and me, immediately picking up on the tension that hung in the air like a thick fog. She tilted her head to the side, an expression of concern etched on her face as she tried to make sense of the scene before her. However, following closely behind her was Nancy Henderson.
Nancy’s eyes narrowed, scanning the room with a keen curiosity that quickly turned into suspicion. She sniffed, as if sensing the charged atmosphere. “Is everything okay here, Mr. Parker?” she asked, her tone dripping with false sweetness in the presence of a parent.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” I replied quickly, trying my best to sound casual, despite the slight tremor in my voice that threatened to give away my true emotions. My heart was still racing from the intensity of the kiss, and heat rose in my cheeks. “Mr. Mendez needed to grab Mia’s jacket.” I walked over to Mia’s cubby, my steps a little unsteady, and reached for the jacket hanging on the hook below it. “Here it is,” I said, holding out the jacket to Marc, our eyes meeting briefly, a silent acknowledgment of the moment we had shared.
“Yes, thanks.” Marc, bless his heart, had even less of a poker face than I did. His eyes, wide and unsettled, bore into mine as he gave me a crooked smile before heading out the door. “Bye, Mr. Parker. Ladies.”
“Bye, Mr. Mendez.” Nancy’s gaze flickered between us again, obviously sensing that there was more to the story. She watched him go, then turned back to me, her eyes narrowed in silent inquiry. “You know, Kendall,” she began, her voice taking on an insinuated tone I knew all too well, “it’s so nice to see parents getting so involved with their children’s education. Don’t you agree, Stella?”
Stella, bless her heart, stepped in smoothly. “Absolutely, Nancy. Marc has been a fantastic volunteer today.” She gave me a nudge, her eyes warning me to keep calm. “Ken, some of the parents wanted to thank you. You should come join everyone outside.”
“Sounds great,” I said, eager for an escape from the awkward situation. I took a deep breath, attempting to regain my composure. What if Nancy had seen us? What if someone else had walked in? The consequences of our reckless actions began to sink in, a heavy weight settling in my chest.
But for now, I needed to focus on my job and keep people from asking questions that I wasn’t prepared to answer. As we walked down the hallway, Nancy turned left to head toward her classroom, leaving just me and Stella.
Her eyes locked on me, still probing for answers. She knows something is up , I thought, anxiety twisting in my gut. When I didn’t offer anything, Stella glanced at me sidelong. “So, what was that all about with Mr. Mendez?” she asked, a curious lilt to her voice.
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady while my thoughts raced. How much should I tell her? “Nothing, just discussing Mia’s progress,” I said, the words sounding flat even to me.
Stella raised a brow and gave me a skeptical look. “Seemed pretty intense for a parent-teacher chat.” Then her voice dropped. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged, hoping she didn’t hear my heart pounding. The guilt twisted in my gut, but I she couldn’t know about Marc and me—not yet.
We stepped into the bright sunlight, blinking until my eyes adjusted. The laughter of the children still here, enjoying the Spring Fling, filled the air, a welcome distraction from the lingering anxiety swirling inside me. I took a deep breath, trying to push away thoughts of Marc and our forbidden kiss, at least for now.
As Stella and I approached the group of parents and teachers gathered near the newly planted flower beds, Ginger Hawkins caught my eye and waved me over. “Mr. Parker! The kindergarten parents wanted to thank you and Ms. Brooks for all your hard work today. The kids had a blast, and the school looks beautiful,” she added, waving her hand at the cheery, colorful walkway to the school’s front doors.
I forced a smile, hoping it looked genuine. “It was my pleasure, Mrs. Hawkins. I’m just glad everything went smoothly.”
She nodded, then turned to address the group. “Let’s give a big round of applause to all our wonderful volunteers and teachers who made this year’s Spring Fling such a success!”
As everyone clapped and cheered, I scanned the crowd, my heart skipping a beat when I spotted Marc standing with Mia, accepting handshakes and claps on the back for his expertise today. Our eyes met, and for a moment, the world around us faded away. His gaze held a mixture of longing and uncertainty, and I saw my own conflicted emotions written on his face.
Mia tugged on his hand, breaking the spell, and he looked down at her with a smile, listening intently as she chattered excitedly about the flowers she’d planted. I watched them, my chest tightening with a bittersweet ache. They looked so happy together, so perfect—a family.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Marc had Mia to think about, and I had my job. No matter how strong our connection, no matter how much I wanted to be with him, there were still many obstacles in our way, at least for now.
But even when the time came and he was no longer the parent of my student—Marc was afraid of this, afraid of this relationship that might break his heart and traumatize his daughter.
He wanted us, but his fear was winning.
Stella nudged me, her voice low. “Hey, are you okay?”
I blinked, realizing I’d been staring. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”
Stella studied me for a moment, her expression skeptical, but she didn’t push. Instead, she looped her arm through mine and gave me a gentle squeeze. “Come on, let’s go grab some lunch. I’m in the mood for a burger and fries. You?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.” I let her lead me away, grateful for the distraction. As we made our way through the crowd, I tried to push thoughts of Marc to the back of my mind. I laughed and chatted with Stella and the others, but my skin tingled with awareness of Marc nearby, an invisible pull I couldn’t resist, like a moth to a flame.
And deep down, I knew that no matter how hard I tried to resist, I was already in too deep to walk away unscathed.