10. Penelope
ten
penelope
“Um, excuse me? What is that?”
I mean, I know exactly what it is. It’s a Captain America shield neon sign. I’m just confused as to why it’s hanging on the wall in my classroom.
Ant lifts his perplexed little gaze from where he’s working at his makeshift desk—it’s really a table, because we ran out of furniture—his expression an innocent picture of Who? Little old me?
“Uh… It’s fun .”
He blinks, as if that answer will change my opinion.
“Well, it’s giving me a headache,” I reply, tossing him an unamused expression through narrow eyes.
I step over to the long cord and switch off the lamp, sighing in relief at the absence of penetrating neon. I make it two steps toward my desk when I can sense the glow behind me. Stopping in my tracks, my shoulders hitch. But before I can even so much as turn around and kill him with my death stare, he steals the breath from me.
“You know, my ‘fun’ cured your headache once upon a time.”
It’s the first time he has actually brought it up. Or, it’s the first time I haven’t been able to put a stop to it before the stupid words come tumbling from his stupid mouth.
A wave of a memory floods over before I can stop it.
My head on his shoulder, his broad hand rubbing up and down my goose-pimpled skin.
“That last beer was a bad idea.”
So was pressing those words directly against the skin of his neck, but I did it anyway. He matched my temptation, pressing his inquisitive hum to my temple. We were flirting with kissing without really doing it.
“Hmm. And why is that?”
Another brush of his hand up along my forearm. I replied with my bent knee skirting over his thigh. Just a little higher and I might be able to tell if…
“I can already feel my morning headache,” I giggled.
That was the first time he actually pressed his lips to my skin. It was chaste and sweet and barely there, like he was asking the question without using the words, because words made it real. Instead of backing down like I should have, I leaned into it.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Pen?”
I jolt back to reality before my brain can conjure up the images I only allow myself before bed, of Anthony tipping my chin up to his mouth, and the time that followed in both a blur and a frame by frame chronology.
“Hmm?” I reply, painting my annoyed mask on over the flush that I’m sure crept in along with that memory.
“I can uh… I’ll take it down. If it bothers you.”
He shrugs, and I realize that the sign has been turned off. For the first time, I actually allow myself to see Anthony’s emotions warping over him in technicolor. The faint redness in his cheeks, his hands clasping in and out nervously, the way he avoids my eyes. I’ll break down every reason for this three second expression before bed a thousand times and then scold myself after. For now, I let the ache of my heart be soothed by the fact that although he knowingly hurt me, it’s hurting him too.
He feels bad. And he should . But maybe I should ease up on him just a little? Maybe he didn’t hang his decoration to get under my skin, but to feel a little more at home in an unfamiliar classroom.
I sigh. I’m being petty again. And although I don’t have it in me to fully let go and move on just yet, I can probably let him have his little sign hanging on the wall.
“It’s fine. Just don’t turn it on before I’ve had my coffee.”
He smiles, and another faint clip plays in my memory.
His smile in comparison to the billions of stars against the backdrop of us. The way that, in my hangover stupor—of both the alcohol and us—I’d felt compelled to turn him into poetry.
I can’t let that smile break me again.
I throw up my wall of armor, turn my back, and say, “I’m heading out,” over my shoulder before grabbing my laptop and booking it down the hall to Juliet’s classroom.
“He decorated my classroom like a college dorm!” I bellow, barging into Juliet’s classroom without bothering to knock. She freezes, hands halfway to the wall with a new poster to attach with Sticky-Clips. Her lips curve up sheepishly. She finishes hanging the poster before climbing off the step ladder.
“Technically, it’s his classroom for the year too,” she says, approaching me with slow steps.
I huff. I already knew that .
“Excuse me. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side. I just wanted to remind you to play nice.”
Juliet tilts her head, and before I can detail exactly how much I don’t want to play nice, Lucy enters, asking, “Who are we playing nice with?”
“Playing nice? Does Pen have a date?! Oh, give me the details!”
Aaron is never far from her these days. Not with a wedding to plan.
“I thought Penelope gave up on dating. Is it one of the new teachers?” Sam asks, not far behind them.
“Penelope, if you’re going to date one of the Meadow Ridge staff, you’ll have to fill out a document with HR.”
Oh. Great. My boss is here now, too. Never mind the fact that he’s banging my friend Claire, who is the only absent one of the bunch. She might be the only voice of reason, and of course, she’s not here.
“For the love of— would you all shut up ?”
I tilt my head back in agony, rubbing my temples.
“Sorry, babe. Tell us about how he ruined your classroom aesthetic.”
“He hung a Captain America bar sign on the wall.”
“Oh, sweet! Sam, you wanna go look?!”
Aaron and Sam duck out, which is maybe for the better, because Nathan leaves behind them, obviously not wanting to be the only man in the room full of a bunch of women gossiping about another employee. He knows where to draw the line.
I collapse into the closest student desk, which Juliet already has arranged in perfectly straight rows. I’m jealous.
“He hung up his superhero crap already. I’d say it’s like moving in with a roommate you don’t vibe with, but I have it at home too.”
“He hung up superhero posters at home?” Lucy asks.
“Worse. He decorated his bathroom with them.”
I’ll let them see the Iron Man soap dispenser for themselves.
“How has living with him been?” Juliet asks, wiping all joking aside. “I’m sorry for this whole situation, Pen.”
“I am too.” I roll my eyes, but settle with my hand in my chin, blowing out a breath. “It’s… I mean, aside from the fact that he wakes up at the crack of dawn, it’s fine …”
I say nothing about his presence that’s all over my house. The smell of his cologne on the throw pillows, and the way his shoes lay beside mine by the back door. The way his truck looks beside my Escalade in the driveway, and his snacks next to mine—now in labeled buckets, after the pizza incident.
It’s breaking my heart, actually. Thanks for asking .
“So you two clearly haven’t killed each other yet,” Lucy says.
“ Yet being the operative word. If he hadn’t gotten a new alarm clock after the first weekend, we would be down a teacher.” My eyes widen in contempt before I stand. I’ve got to dispel some of this buzzing energy.
“Where is your Meadow Ridge buddy?” I ask, glancing around the classroom that has almost no new touches, aside from the extra teacher table and chair, adorned with a pencil cup, laptop, and coat over the back of the chair.
Juliet winces. “He is, uh… Retiring after this year, and basically said I can run my class as normal.” She shrugs. “Sorry, Pen.”
“You lucky bitch.” I scrunch my nose at her, and she shrugs again with wide, not so sorry eyes.
“If it makes you feel any better, Sam said that his partner teacher from Meadow Ridge is already a piece of work.”
If I’m not mistaken, I see Juliet’s back to school manicure sharpen into claws.
“Have you guys heard from Claire recently?” Lucy cuts in.
“She’s wrapping up her social work license for the winter,” I say. “She’s been super busy, but I think she gets a break in a few weeks.”
“We should have a girls’ night!”
At the mention of time with my girls, the knots inside me relax.