Chapter 20 Owen
G od she smells good.
It’s a great distraction right now because I’m reeling a little from Ms. Neemeyer. She came right up to me and I know she meant well, but she said, “It would have been so much easier if you had fifteen years of experience, then we could have just hired you right away. But I’m so happy we got you in the end. You’re a real asset to this school.”
Then she sat next to me and didn’t stop talking to me until the table was almost full. I didn’t even realize that the only open chair for Poppy to take was to my right.
Breathing in, my nose fills with the smell of poppies. I shake my head to get my mind off of our time in her room and focus on the calm and connection I felt with her under the stars. Maybe we’ll get there again. Not connecting quite as thoroughly as that wedding night, but connections like that don’t come around every day and not having her as a friend, just a friend, would be a shame.
All eyes are on me and it’s time to get this show on the road.
“Okay,” I say to the group while splitting the stack of papers in two, handing half to Ms. Neemeyer on my left and the other half to Poppy on my right. She just finished digging through a large brown bag and setting a spiral-bound book with “Lessons” written in sweeping letters on the cover. “The English department has broken down the main objectives and examples of the various literacy types.”
I quickly find my groove and launch into the introduction I helped prepare late last semester. My eyes catch on the doodles Poppy makes on the margins of the paper even while she’s taking notes. Vines with bundles of flowers snake around her page. Every now and then, someone asks a question and before I know it, we’re in the brainstorming section.
The group is busy scribbling away and occasionally chatting quietly to someone next to them. At one point, she flips a page over and her arm brushes against mine. Sparks light up where her skin makes contact.
She mumbles an apology, but her cheeks get redder by the moment as she tries to look busy. But I can see that she’s not really writing anything new. She’s only adding serifs to what she already has and making it look like she’s still busy and focused.
I bite back a smile. Seems I’m not the only one feeling something .
But I quickly sober. Dating a coworker—no matter the sparks, connection, and ease—is no way to start the school year. Especially when that person just wants to be coworkers.
***
“Here’s to finishing the first day of back-to-school meetings in one piece,” Noah says, clinking the neck of his bottle against mine as we sit in his backyard.
“And to you for forcing me out of my classroom at five,” I reply.
“You’ve been too in your head today,” he says after taking a swig.
“The transition felt a little like whiplash since I was already packing to move back to New York.”
“Yeah, but you looked more uncertain today than you did your first day as a long-term sub in a town where you basically didn’t know anyone.”
I shift in my lawn chair and sigh because he’s right.
“It seemed like I was the top candidate and I felt confident about the job. Then Erin called.” He nods as I continue the narrative that’s been playing through my head the last week. “I pushed that aside and enjoyed my cousin’s wedding, letting it be my last hurrah in Honey Cove.”
I pause, my mind taking me back to that dance under the stars.
“And then you got another call from Erin,” he prompts, his eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, and then I got the call, which was great, of course. But…” I trail off.
“But it bothers you that someone else got the offer before you?” he ventures.
“Pretty much.” As much as I’d like to confide in him about my history with Poppy, even though she mentioned he knows, I can’t very well tell a coworker about it. Even if I trust the guy to not say a word to anyone. “I'm just feeling unmoored right now, but I’ll find my confidence again.”
“You know you’re the best person for the job, right?”
Hoping I don’t throw her under the bus, I say, “Beth might have explained the push from the district for new hires having more experience. I just felt like it was right and that things were falling into place to settle here for the long haul.”
I take a sip of my beer, the cool crisp bubbles travel down my throat, and look around us at the view of the cove itself. His house is a bit up a hill and I can see half the town here, even my building and the boardwalk.
“It’s a good thing Erin caught you before your things were fully packed,” Noah says, trying to help me see all of this as a glass half full.
“You’re right. I could have been back in the city prepping for another school year there.” My last school in the city currently has two openings in the English department and the head of the department asked me to apply a few times. Since I left for Honey Cove, I’m no longer seen as an internal candidate, but I left on good terms.
I didn’t want a backup job, which definitely looks stupid in hindsight. I wanted this small town.
Still do.
“I’m usually right,” Noah says, smiling.
“So I’m learning,” I reply, taking another drink and then picking at the corner of the label on my bottle. “Let’s talk about something other than this last week, I need to get out of this funk.”
“I have a date this weekend,” he tells me nonchalantly, raising the bottle to his lips.
“And?” It’s my turn to prompt him.
“And,” he adds a pause for dramatic effect, “I matched with them online.”
“Do I need to pry details out of you?” I growl good-naturedly.
“It’s new territory for us to talk about dates,” he says.
“How many dates have you been on since I moved here?”
“Zero,” he replies without missing a beat.
“Dry spell?” I guess.
“Nah.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I think I’ve moved through the eligible dating pool, which is one of the downsides of living in a small town. What about you?”
“No actual dates, either.”
“Well, you’ll have to let me know when your dry spell is over.”
“I didn’t say I was having a dry spell.” That’s as close as I will get to telling him about Poppy.
“So the opposite of a dry spell would be…”
“Nothing I’m experiencing.” I laugh, imagining what he must have thought I meant. “Actually, I don’t know the last time I went this long without trying to date. It wasn’t necessarily easier in New York, but the big city offered a small likelihood you’ll run into an ex, I suppose.”
“Was that an issue before?”
“No,” I reply. “Breakups are never a fun thing to go through, but things ended on respectful terms in the past. I guess I’m lucky with that.”
“I’d say.” He lets out a rueful chuckle.
“I’m sensing a story here.” I settle in, ready for anything. “But we can focus on your upcoming date, if you’d rather.”
“My upcoming date is with a vet who lives about twenty minutes away. I’ll let you know how that goes, but the banter has been top-notch so far.” He tries, and fails, to hide a smile.
“That sounds promising.”
“I hope so,” he says and then his smile fades. “But not all of my relationships ended amicably, unfortunately. So there’s always a worry that things will go south again, I guess.”
“But you’re looking forward to this one?” I ask, wanting to bring back his hopefulness.
“I guess I am,” he says, half of his smile returning.
While I feel happy for him, there’s a little pang in my heart, realizing that for the first time in the past year, I actually am interested in dating someone. But she is off limits now that we work together.
Maybe I can live vicariously through Noah’s dating life until I feel that with someone else.
However rare it is.