Nash
EIGHT
Okay. So…it was casual. It didn’t mean anything.
Fair enough.
That was fine.
That was what I wanted, right? It had always been that way. I hooked up with women, gave them the time of their life, we parted ways perfectly friendly the next day. That was how it worked.
That was the Nash Effect, whatever the hell that meant.
Only a few parents had stayed behind to help, mostly teachers. Nell was with her cousins; she’d insisted on going, so I’d figured I would stay. No reason, of course. I just…didn’t have any reason to leave, and I could be helpful instead.
Now, I was carrying a bin back into the building, full of crafting supplies and glitter…a bin labeled LAINE, ROOM 107.
Also no reason.
I definitely had picked it up entirely at random, not on purpose.
I definitely wasn’t playing a pervy game of chicken with my kid’s kindergarten teacher.
The school was quiet. Most of the lights were off in the hallway, just the afternoon coming gold through the windows, my footsteps echoing on the tile. I walked the same path I would have if I was dropping off Nell, and I found myself in front of Maggie Laine’s classroom.
And there she was—leaning over her desk, carefully organizing gel pens back into a collection of plastic mason jars.
She looked up when she heard my footsteps, her eyebrows going up.
“Oh!” she said. “Hi, Mr. Nash.”
She was so damn calm about it. Made me want to drop the box, pull her into my arms, and kiss her senseless.
I had…not felt like this in a very long time.
Because the thing was—yes, I was cool about it, I was kind about it, but I didn’t have to try. I didn’t want her over it…I wanted her bashful and pretty and blushing, and maybe I’d dwell on that for a little while, then she’d move on and find someone better.
I didn’t want her acting like nothing had happened. Like it didn’t mean anything?
Please.
I set the bin down on the nearest desk.
“Hey,” I said.
Not Mr. Nash. Just Nash. The way it was supposed to be when we weren’t performing for anyone.
She straightened up, a green gel pen in her hand, and looked at me with that carefully neutral expression.
“Thanks for bringing that in,” she said. “You didn’t have to.”
“I don’t mind helping out,” I said. “You teachers do more than enough. I mean…I did just spend the last couple hours singing your praises to the other parents.”
She shook her head, laughing softly. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
I should have put the box down, but I didn’t. I waited for her to look at me.
She finally did.
And…there it was. The blush.
“Where do you want this?” I asked.
“Just over in the back corner with the other bins,” she said. “I’ll probably have to stay late tomorrow and put everything away.”
“I can help.”
“You can’t,” she said with a genuine smile. “My organization system is uncrackable even for the most neurotic.”
I laughed, carrying the bin to the back corner as requested to set it down with the others.
All of them were labeled in the same handwriting—hers, I realized, neat with rounded letters, different colored sharpies.
On the wall behind them was a dinosaur drawing with a big heart in pink at the bottom, NELL in capital letters beside it.
I swallowed hard and turned around.
Maggie was still at her desk, still sorting pens.
She wasn’t making a show of it; she legitimately had a system.
I watched her for a moment, and it was only then that I caught it: the way her face flushed all the way down her neck to her chest, her teeth biting into her lower lip, her breath a little faster.
Memories flashed through my mind without invitation: begging me to take her to bed, crawling toward me on the mattress, taking me in her mouth—
“I’ll go,” I said, cutting myself off. “I just—it was great to see you today, Maggie, to actually get to talk—”
“It was actually really…nice,” she interrupted, looking up at me. “That night. It was nice.”
I let out a short laugh. “...nice?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “It was exactly what I needed. It made my breakup so easy.”
“Glad I could help.”
We both laughed, then. It felt like she was trying to end it. Make it clean.
And it was me who just had to be a fucking idiot and not let it end.
“I could help again,” I said, “if you want.”
Her breath hitched. She looked up at me…
Then she very calmly went to the door. Very calmly shut and locked it. Turned back around and leaned back against it, biting her lip in that way that made me want to do things to her that you absolutely should not do in a classroom.
But I was already crossing the room, threading my hands into her hair, and kissing her.