Chapter 15
15
DAISY
I think I’m starting to figure Bryce out.
I’ve heard the term Rottweiler boyfriend before, but in this case, it’s Rottweiler girlfriend . While fierce enough to appear mean to those who don’t know her, she’s actually a giant squish ball that would roll over onto her back for some affection from those she trusts.
I’d enjoy being one of those few. Something tells me that I’d never have to handle a single battle alone ever again.
My classroom is coming along, but without proper cleaning supplies, we’ve only managed to get everything back in their proper locations. That hasn’t stopped Bryce from becoming completely focused on fixing a mess that shouldn’t be her concern.
I keep sneaking looks at her, my entire body flooded with warmth as she tears between the desks and arranges them in the way I told her I wanted them. Once they’re organized in groups of four, she narrows her eyes on my desk and kicks its broken leg.
I stifle a laugh behind the back of my hand. If she had access to a jug of gasoline, I’m positive the desk would be up in flames by now .
“I’m sure we can find something to stick underneath it for now. Just to even it out,” I suggest.
“Absolutely fucking not. Darren’s coming with supplies to fix this mess.”
“He is?”
She nods, keeping the desk pinned beneath her scowl. “He should be here soon.”
There’s that warmth again . . . “When did you ask him to come? I don’t want to bother him. I know he must be busy with work.”
“I texted him a few minutes ago. And don’t flatter him. Darren works for a max of three hours a day unless he’s in the middle of a project. If he wasn’t coming here, he’d be going to fiddle around at the station.”
“I’ve never actually known what his career is. Just that he volunteers at the fire station sometimes.”
It’s common knowledge that Bryce is close friends with him. They might bicker like an old married couple, but even I knew as someone from the outside looking in that there would never be anything more than that between them. And the more I think about the potential of that, the likelier a funeral seems because Bryce would rip that man to shreds and leave nothing behind for the birds to pick at.
I’m concerned that I’ll have the same fate unless I keep my guard up. But at the same time, maybe I could use a bit of a challenge in my life.
“He works for an architecture company that runs out of Calgary,” she says.
“Oh, wow. Good for him.”
“He’s good at what he does. Real fucking good. But don’t tell him I said that, or he’ll never let me live it down.”
My lips part on a soft laugh as I pull the end of the string of multicoloured letters out of one of my tubs. “Want to help me hang these while we wait for him?”
“Did you bring tacks or something? ”
“A giant container of them. They’re in the tub,” I confirm.
She abandons the broken desk and digs through the tub, gripping onto a clear container a beat later. When she takes the letters from me, I grab the other end and tug it free of all the other decorations. I choose the wall above the dirty whiteboard and drag a chair over before standing on it to reach where I want them to start.
“We should talk about boundaries now. Before Darren gets here,” I say before dropping my palm for a tack. She sets one in my hand with careful fingers, keeping the sharp side up. “I don’t want to overstep.”
The tack takes a bit of a shove to go into the wall, but it gives eventually, keeping the Z hung in place. I step off the chair and push it to the other side of the whiteboard.
“My usual boundaries would have us looking like strangers,” Bryce mutters.
“Well, what are they?”
She hovers close to my back when I step onto the chair again and take the opposite end of the string. The corner of the A bites into my fingers as I wait for her reply.
“I don’t love physical contact with people outside of my closest friends. I’m not the touchy-feely type of person.”
“That was obvious, Frosty.”
She stares into the container of tacks in her hand, eyes cloudy. “I wasn’t raised around a lot of physical affection. It doesn’t come naturally to me.”
“That’s alright. You don’t have to want to be that type of person. I’m certainly not going to force you to be. I just want you to be comfortable with me because, obviously, I am a touchy-feely person. It’s second nature for me to reach for someone’s hand or hug them whenever I get the urge to, and sometimes I don’t always remember that not everyone is like that,” I explain, the backs of my eyes burning with guilt.
It’s a character flaw. I’ve tried to become more conscious of my actions, especially around those I don’t know all that well, but with Bryce, I kind of just act off impulse. It’s careless of me.
She moves then. I don’t see her come closer, but I feel it. The container of golden tacks shakes, and then a warm, steady hand closes around the one I have hanging at my side. My breath stalls in my throat as I slowly look down at where she’s standing, eyes no longer shadowed but clear.
“I don’t think I have boundaries with you,” she says, her voice the softest I’ve ever heard it. Almost like she’s trying to soothe me.
Before I can think too much into that, someone clears their throat. I wait for Bryce to yank her hand away, but she rubs her thumb along the back of mine instead.
“I knew something was off about you being at the school, but I can’t say that I expected to find this,” Darren says.
I opt to give him a thankful smile instead of waving, deciding not to release Bryce’s hand just yet. He needs to believe what he’s about to learn.
“Did you bring everything?” Bryce asks.
“Yes, your majesty.” He examines the room and the mess that was left for me and frowns. “Someone had a good time in here.”
“I’m glad they enjoyed themselves, at least,” I say, keeping my tone light despite my strong displeasure with the state of my first classroom.
Bryce scoffs. “I’m not. Whoever did this is a bunch of fucking assholes.”
“They were probably just kids looking to have fun,” I argue gently.
She snaps her eyes to me, clearly frustrated. “If they’re old enough to break into a school and vandalize it, then they’re old enough to know better.”
“She’s right. Even Abbie knows better than to do something like this,” Darren says.
My exhale is far too heavy. They’re valid points, but it feels wrong of me to be angry with a bunch of children for something I’m capable of fixing. Maybe that makes me a pushover. I don’t know.
I flex my fingers, and Bryce releases them before handing me a tack. Stabbing it through the A and into the wall above the whiteboard, I say, “Either way, it’s done with. The only thing I want to do now is finish this classroom and start looking forward to Monday.”
Darren sets his bag of tools on one of the clusters of desks. “Fair enough.”
Bryce is more reluctant. She tongues her cheek the way I’ve noticed she does when she’s thinking or struggling with something while shooting daggers at the crusted writing on the whiteboard.
I’m struck with another burst of realization as to the person Bryce is beneath the rough exterior that keeps most people at a distance. She’s angry for me, appearing ready to march an army on my behalf, and we’ve only been roommates for a week. I haven’t done anything to earn her protection, but she’s given it to me anyway.
“It’s okay, Frosty. Really,” I urge, stepping off the chair.
She glances at me from the corner of her eye. “It’s not. But I’ll let it go.”
Mouth tugging up, I brush my hands over my cardigan before palming my hips. Darren starts to pull everything out of the bag he brought, and I rush to grab the cleaning spray and a cloth, handing them to Bryce.
“For the whiteboard. Maybe once it’s clean, you won’t look like you want to rip it off the wall and break it in half?”
“No promises,” she grumbles but takes the bottle and cloth from my hands.
“Thank you, Bryce.”
I plant a kiss on her cheek before she gets too far away. Bryce doesn’t freeze up this time. A squeak escapes me when she takes my hand and slants her lips over my knuckles, leaving them there for a breath .
I’m not imagining the smirk that appears just as she drops my hand and turns to the whiteboard, giving us her back.
Darren’s chuckle is loud, but I continue to stare at the black shirt clinging to Bryce’s back. It shakes slightly, and I swear I can hear the ghost of her laughter.
“So, when did that happen?” Darren asks.
At a snail’s pace, I turn around and come face to face with his lazy grin. I shrug loosely and wink.
“Wouldn’t you love to know?”
“Actually, yeah, I would.”
“Say please, Darren,” Bryce throws over her shoulder, scrubbing at some blue swirls with the cloth.
He rolls his eyes. “Please.”
I take the paint scraper and rubber gloves from the pile of supplies and prepare to start scraping gum from underneath the desks while he heads toward my broken desk, a couple of types of tools in his hands.
Darren Huntsly is a handsome man. Tall with wide shoulders and a bulk to him that isn’t the typical buff type, but the kind that tips the scale toward dad bod status. He shares some physical characteristics with Poppy, but not many. It’s easy to tell they’re siblings but also that they’re still very much their own people.
When I look at Johnny and me, I feel the same way. He got his looks from Mom, and I just . . . didn’t. Whoever it was that our moms used during their IVF journey, I imagine I look more like him.
“It happened recently. Still really new, D. Don’t push,” Bryce says, an obvious threat in her tone.
He jerks his chin at her, and something passes between them that I don’t know the meaning behind.
“So, it’s new and what? You’re just going to try it out?”
His instant belief in what he’s just learned isn’t what I was expecting.
“I think so. We still have so much to learn about one another, but we have a connection that I didn’t want to waste by beating around the bush,” I answer.
Dropping to my haunches in front of the first of many desks, I snap the rubber gloves on before gripping the paint scraper. I hold my breath and run the blade beneath a gob of gum.
“Does anyone else know?” Darren asks.
Bryce moves down the whiteboard. “Only Poppy and Daisy’s sister.”
“Poppy knows and didn’t tell me?” He gapes.
It’s news to me too. I mean, I kind of assumed Bryce would tell Poppy, but she hasn’t brought it up to me.
Bryce flashes me a quick, almost apologetic look before saying, “I told her not to.”
“When are you guys telling everyone else? You won’t be able to keep it a secret if that’s what you’re hoping to do.”
“We haven’t talked about that yet,” Bryce mutters.
“I suggest you do it at Peakside. Hit everyone at once.”
I pinch the gum that’s fallen and set it on top of the desk. “That’s a good idea. Saturday nights, right?”
“Always,” he confirms.
The underside of the second desk is worse than the first, but I make quick work of scraping it clean. I watch Bryce’s legs move, carrying her away from the whiteboard and toward the desk Darren’s crouched in front of.
“We’ll think about it,” she says.
Darren clucks his tongue. “Fair enough.”
Suddenly, a ball of nerves fills my stomach. It’s not like we’re in a real relationship, but nobody else will know that. Once we’ve told everyone about us, it’ll be the real deal. Next will come her parents.
But I’m excited for that part of our agreement. It’s about time they learn what it takes to support their daughter, and I’m more than up for the task of being the one to teach them.