Chapter 39 Poppy
P eeling myself away from Owen this morning was insanely difficult. Cocooned together in his bed with Samson snuggled on top was the most at home I’ve felt in a long time. Not to mention how soft his sheets were, the warm sunshine pouring in through his window from the sea, and the feel of his skin against mine.
After our “alone time” from Samson, we had a relaxed evening in with our take out from down the boardwalk and enjoyed a movie before falling asleep in each other’s arms. I wish we could have had a more lazy start to the morning, but I suppose that’s what we get for having our date on a Sunday. Ultimately, the roughly mile and a half jog home in my flats with the sunrise was the wake-me-up I needed to pull me from my sex and take out slumber.
I always thought things were good with Steven. Even from the beginning. But seeing how Owen treats me, even on our first “date,” has me questioning a lot of things I had simply accepted as normal. Making a mental note to talk to Andi about it later, I unlock my front door and rush inside to shower and grab my things before the first bell at school. I’ve never quite had a jog of shame before…I guess there’s a first time for everything.
***
My hair is wet, I forgot my lunch, and I’m sort of a hot mess, but I’m still riding my elated dopamine over how my night went. I think I feel okay about dating a coworker, but now that I’m here, at school, I’m freaking out about it a little.
Can I handle navigating the relationship as coworkers and as something more? Will we need to report this to someone? Did we even talk about what our title is? Are we just dating, but seeing other people? I’m not seeing other people. I hope he isn’t seeing other people. He said he wasn’t interested in kissing anyone else, so that bodes well. God, I need to stop.
I nibble on a stale bagel I snagged from the teacher’s lounge this morning. It was leftover from some sort of potluck or parents’ thing. The questions won’t seem to stop. I haven’t dated, like actually dated for so long, all of this feels new to me again.
What will our coworkers say? Will they think this is a rebound? It’s been a while since the incident , but I suppose people are still talking about it. I see some whispers and looks when people think I’m not watching, and students still ask me about it. Especially those that know my ex or his family.
The kids were so invested in us and our relationship. I’m not sure I want more hormonally charged opinions on my love life being thrown in my face unsolicited while I’m trying to teach watercolor techniques.
As if he could read my mind, Noah knocks on my classroom door. “Hi there, Ms. Edwards, I was hoping you could help me with a boy problem,” he calls in with his typical “student” voice.
“No help for that here. You’re on your own,” I call back.
Noah comes in already laughing. “Please, I need to talk about it, it’s urgent.”
“You know, I know a counselor that would love to talk about it with you.” Winking at him, I trail off before taking a sip of my coffee. With my literal running late today, there was no time for Bobbi’s and I cringe at the taste of the sludge in my hand.
“Actually, it’s you specifically I need to talk to.” Noah’s voice is back to normal, his eyes wide, and eyebrows inquisitively raised toward the fluorescent ceiling. “How was the run? I’ve been dying for the details all weekend.”
“It was good, but Sunday night was even better,” I say smugly, hiding my face behind some newsprint I’m folding for a project. Noah bats it down at the same time the first bell rings. “Thanks for stopping by, his office is down the hall.”
“You are cruel, Poppy Edwards. Cruel.” He starts out of the room as the first kids come in. “Your teacher is messing with my emotions this morning, children, watch out.”
A few of the kids give him a concerned look before looking back at me and shrugging. “Don’t worry, he can handle it.”