Chapter 6
Love at first sight.
I’ve read about it. I’ve dreamed about it. I’ve watched it happen in countless movies. I’ve always known it was out there, but I had started to give up on it ever happening to me.
Until now.
I stand so quickly that small spots begin to dance around the edges of my vision. My heart plummets to the base of my stomach as I shuffle toward the door, dropping so far down that I worry it’s going to fall out of my skort and onto the alphabet-themed rug. I clench as a precaution.
“Hi,” I say, my voice sounding distant. I curl my fingers in a wave, though I’m not sure it does any good with my hand at my side.
According to the attendance sheet, we’re still waiting on one more kid to arrive, but I highly doubt this is his dad.
He’s too young and dressed too casually.
The few dads who do morning drop-offs are always in suits and fall somewhere in the forty-to-sixty age range.
The guy in front of me is wearing a checkered button-down over a white T-shirt, navy blue pants, and Vans.
There’s no sign of gray in his sandy brown hair.
He can’t be a day older than me. Maybe he’s a hot nanny?
He sticks out his hand.
I stare at the veins in his outstretched arm for a beat too long before I finally shake his hand.
“I’m Finn, the new fourth-grade teacher. You must be Phoebe?”
I nod.
“I was told this is the place to go for some colored pencils. Do you mind if I borrow some, for the day? I promise I’ll bring them back.” He smirks, and I feel my face warm.
“I’m Phoebe.”
I hear Cheryl’s footsteps coming up behind me just in time to save me from myself.
“Here you go.” She hands him a box labeled Extra Colored Pencils, courtesy of my label maker.
“Thanks!” He reaches his arm out to shake Cheryl’s hand. I stay mesmerized by his veins while he introduces himself to her. “I just started over there.” He points out the window toward the Stone Building.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Cheryl says, and while she talks to Finn, I will my gaze away from his arms and begin fixating on the small sliver of ankle that’s visible below his cuffed pant leg. I keep my eyes down while Cheryl introduces herself.
Get it together.
“Well, I’m Cheryl, and you’ve met Phoebe.
We were all so sad when Becky retired, but I have to say, I’m glad we’ve got some more young blood around here.
Poor Phoebe’s always been the youngest here by at least twenty years.
” She chuckles and pats my back, which anyone watching would assume is an innocuous gesture.
But I know Cheryl, and I know it’s her subtle way of encouraging me to say something.
“And if you need anything else, don’t be shy,” she adds while looking at me expectantly.
“I have a label maker if you need it,” I offer.
He smiles. “I’m good with the colored pencils for now, thanks.”
I nod, knowing that at some point in the future, he’ll come back for the label maker. Everyone always comes back for the label maker.
“It was great meeting you both. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
He ducks to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe on the way out, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath this entire time. Just as I’m about to exhale, he doubles back, peeking his head through the open door.
“By the way, Phoebe, I love your shirt,” he says with a wink.
I beam, my smile extending from ear to ear. “Thank you!”
I watch through our windows as he leaves, and only when he finally enters the Stone Building does my heart find its way back to its normal resting place. I finally unclench.
As if she can sense it, Cheryl shakes her head and lets out a laugh.
“You and that damn label maker.”
—
The kids line up behind the line leader of the day, a sweaty and smiling Charlie, yelling and pushing one another happily as they make their way outside for recess. Cheryl follows closely behind them, and I split off from the group to take my first, and probably only, bathroom break of the day.
The second I lock the bathroom door behind me, I reach into the depths of my skort for my phone and pull up the “no backing out” group chat. My hands are shaking with excitement.
Phoebe:
I found him
Alex:
Context?
Phoebe:
The guy I’m going to have sex with
His name is Finn
He’s the new fourth-grade teacher
Nora:
Oh my god a workplace romance is so hot
You could hook up in the teachers’ lounge
Jonathan:
Send a picture!
Phoebe:
Everything’s happening so fast
I don’t even know his last name yet
But just trust me that he’s perfect
I’ll have to completely rework the list around him
Good thing I didn’t laminate it yet
Alex:
You’re still going on that date with Matthew
I check my unread texts to see if he’s responded.
Usually by this time of day, Matthew would have already sent me his Wordle score, but still, there’s nothing from him.
This is good, I convince myself. This is a sign.
What are the odds that I’d make a detailed plan for how to lose my virginity, and the very next day, a gorgeous fourth-grade teacher with perfect ankles and strong, healthy arm veins would come knocking at my classroom door?
It feels too much like fate to ignore, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all my romance consumption over the years, it’s that when the universe gives you a sign, you take it.
And this is my sign that Finn is the one.
Phoebe:
Matthew didn’t respond
Which is perfect, because I don’t need any distractions from Finn
Also, pulse check on Meg?
Alex:
Sound asleep on my bathroom floor.
Phoebe:
Sweet dreams
I send a quick Did anyone see Jonathan go home with someone? His bed was empty this morning…to the other three before I put my phone back in my pocket and race out the door without peeing. What’s another four hours of holding it?
I freeze midway through my trek up the gravel path to the playground when I spot Shannon, our assistant principal, talking to Cheryl by the swing set.
Even with my terrible eyesight, the pink lipstick on her teeth is visible from a mile away.
I managed to avoid her for the entirety of August while I was here setting up the classroom, but there’s nowhere to run now.
I drag my feet over to her and Cheryl and prepare to make nice.
“Hi, Shannon.”
She’s wearing black slacks and a wool cardigan in the eighty-degree heat.
I break into a sweat just looking at her.
This year will be her last before retirement, and I’ve been getting some pressure from our principal, Dan, to interview for her spot.
“The interview is only a formality, really,” he said.
And even though he’s practically offering me a promotion on a silver platter, I told him I need to think about it.
Though the pay bump would be really nice, I’m not sure I’m ready to leave the classroom in favor of an administrative position.
I’ve been going back and forth in my head for weeks, changing my mind at least fifteen times a day.
Usually, during times when I’m crippled by indecision, I go to my friends.
But I haven’t mentioned this to them yet.
None of them are particularly thrilled with where they’re at job-wise, and bringing this up would feel kind of insensitive.
I don’t want to bother them with my champagne problems, which is why I turned to Matthew.
He’s just so smart and levelheaded; he felt like the perfect person to go to for advice.
He suggested doing the interview regardless of whether I want the job.
No need to panic about making any decisions yet, he had texted, and the noise in my head dulled for a moment.
Talking to him always makes me feel calm, even if the idea of going on a date with him sends me into fight-or-flight.
And no matter what, interviews are always good practice. He’s right.
The next time I see Dan, I’m going to tell him I’ll take the interview. One step at a time.
Shannon gives me a glare, as if she knows I’m in the middle of thinking about taking her job. Her gaze lingers for an extra few seconds on my left arm.
“Why would you do that to yourself?” she asks.
I knew she’d have something to say about Bev. But if anything, her drawing attention to it only serves as a reminder of what Bev stands for.
I can do hard things.
Like losing my virginity to the new fourth-grade teacher, for example.
I plaster on my fakest smile and respond through gritted teeth, “It’s great to see you, too, Shannon.”
She hands Cheryl and me each a piece of paper.
“This is from Dan.”
I give it a quick once-over. It’s a memo introducing a new program called Book Buddies, an “opportunity for our students of different ages to learn from one another.” From my skimming, it seems like we’ll be partnering up with one of the older grades once a week to do different activities.
“The grade you’re partnering with is on the back.”
I turn the page over as Shannon walks away without saying goodbye. The floral perfume that lingers in her wake makes me gag, but I don’t care because nothing, not even Shannon’s terrible attitude and stuffy perfume, could burst my bubble right now.
Cheryl flashes me a huge grin. “Oh, I can’t wait to see how this plays out.”
Pre-K’s first meeting with Finn’s fourth-grade class is next Monday.
—
I load the last kid of the day into their car seat, then wipe the sweat off my brow while watching the Audi pull out of the parking lot. I say a quick goodbye to Cheryl as she rushes past me, racing to pick her kids up from their high school across town, while I make my way back to pre-K.
There is nothing that brings me greater peace than spending some time alone in our classroom at the end of the day. Between the kids, having a roommate, and spending most of my free time with my friends, it’s really the only time I have to myself.