Chapter 12
Kendall
“Okay, everyone. Nice work today. Be sure to leave your assignments on my desk on your way out.”
The students in my poetry composition class start to pack up their things and stand up.
“We’ll be talking about Ella Wheeler Wilcox next week, so make sure you finish the reading by Tuesday,” I tell them.
They file out of the room, and I grab the stack of papers and place them in my bag. My phone buzzes, and I check it.
I smile when I see a text from Liam. I lean on the edge of the desk and tap my screen to read it.
Holy. Shit.
I burst out laughing and text him back.
Me: Is that a good “holy shit”? Or a bad “holy shit”?
Liam: Good.
Me: I’m guess that means you liked “I Carry Your Heart With Me”?
Liam: I loved it. This E.E. Cummings dude can write. Damn.
My head falls back as I laugh.
Me: Yeah, he was pretty incredible. One of the greatest American poets.
Liam: He sounds completely in love with the person he’s writing the poem about. Like, he’s attached to her, but in a good way. Like he feels responsible for taking care of her heart forever. Like he’s going to carry it with him forever.
I rest my hand on my chest, touched by the way Liam speaks about this poem.
A tiny pang of guilt hits me.
For so long, I dismissed Liam as a shallow, superficial guy.
As soon as I distanced myself from him in college, we stopped hanging out one-on-one, but I’d see him whenever our mutual friends would hang out together.
He was always drinking or flirting with women or talking about hockey.
I assumed he didn’t care about much else.
But clearly he does. The way he reads and talks about poetry shows how thoughtful and smart he is.
Me: Are you sure you’ve never taken a poetry class? Because you’re nailing it with your observations.
Liam: You think so?
Me: Yeah. It’s really fun to see you get so into it.
Liam: To be honest, I never cared about poetry when I was in school. I thought it was boring.
Liam: Sorry, I know you love poetry
Me: It’s okay, I get it. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Especially for teenagers and college students. Lot of poems can be pretty dry, so I understand if someone doesn’t like poetry at first. You just have to find the right poem. The right one can blow you away.
Liam: I’m learning that now.
Liam: As good as this poem was, I think I liked the other one that you sent better.
Me: To My Dear and Loving Husband by Anne Bradstreet?
Liam: Yeah, that one. That lady was really into her husband.
I laugh.
Liam: I googled the poet and I read that she was a Puritan.
Me: Look at you doing extra credit for your poetry homework.
Liam: I couldn’t help it. I was curious.
He sends a shrugging emoji.
Liam: Pretty passionate for a Puritan lady.
Me: Everyone can feel passion, even Puritans.
Liam: Yeah, I guess you’re right. You think she wrote any dirty poems for her husband?
I burst out laughing.
Me: If she did, she didn’t share them with anyone except him.
Liam: That’s too bad. I bet she could have written a super hot poem about him.
I’m giggling as I send an eye-roll emoji.
Liam: Or hey, maybe that poem was like porn back in the day for the Puritans.
I almost fall off the desk, I’m laughing so hard.
Liam: Come on, you were thinking it too.
Me: Was not.
Liam: You were. I can tell.
Me: No way. I’m not a deviant like you.
He sends back a smiling devil emoji. I bite my lip, still grinning as I gaze at my phone screen.
This is the most fun text conversation I’ve had with a guy in a long time. Not since before my ex broke up with me, and that was over a year ago.
There’s a tingle in my chest as I look down at my phone. Never in a million years did I think I’d be having a flirty conversation about poetry with Liam Scott.
Me: Okay, you really want to read a dirty love poem?
Liam: YES
I’m giggling again.
Me: We’re meeting up tomorrow night to plan wedding stuff, I’ll show you a poem that’s gonna make you blush. Hard.
Liam: Wait, why can’t you send it to me now?
Me: Because I wanna see your face when you read it.
Liam: Fair enough. Can’t wait :)
My tummy flips. I can’t wait to see the look on Liam’s face.