The ABCs of You & Me (Right Place, Right Time #3)

1. Sophie

ONE

SOPHIE

There is absolutely no way that I’m seeing what I’m seeing.

There is absolutely no way in hell that Foster Walsh is crouched down next to a nine-year-old kid, very patiently explaining something. I cannot believe that when my friends ask how my first day went, I’m going to have to say, Remember that boy I was in love with from the ages of five to eighteen? Well, he’s an educational assistant at the school I’ve been assigned to. Oh and he’s my best friend’s older brother. Did you hear that, Cass? Your brother is an EA in the same building I’ll be spending the majority of my time in. Thanks for the heads-up, my now-former best friend. Also he’s even hotter than I remember, so… awesome.

When Foster looks up at me, frozen in the doorway, he doesn’t seem to register who I am. It feels like a punch to the gut when he immediately looks back down at the student’s work.

“Jessica Morris, I’d like to introduce you to our new social worker, Sophie Hore. She’s stepping in for Hazel while she’s on maternity leave.” I do my best to focus on Jessica instead of on the stupidly hot man behind her. “I’ll introduce you to Mr. Walsh later,” Principal Wong says, gesturing for me to follow her.

I glance back as Foster’s eyes find me, and his lips quirk in a barely there grin. Heat spreads across my face as I stumble over my feet turning to follow the principal. I know that grin. I saw it many times when I was younger. He definitely recognizes me.

There isn’t much for me to do today other than get myself acquainted with my office and the files Hazel left behind. But the minute I sit down, my mind immediately goes back to Foster, as I knew it would. He hasn’t changed much in the last eight years. His dark red hair is perhaps more styled than it had been in our youth, and he’s filled out his tall frame well—a little too well.

Sighing, I pull my glasses off and set them on the desk before hiding my face in my hands and releasing a groan that can probably be heard in the hallway.

Those amber eyes, always glinting with a bit of mischievousness, flash in my mind. And my memory starts flipping through all the times he looked at me growing up. We’d played together as young children, but as we got older we didn’t hang out because we thought the opposite sex was carrying some horrible disease. Eventually, Foster came back around as a teenager, but it was usually to tease Cass and me or dare us to do ridiculous things. Then one day he was packing and heading off to university. I stood beside his old black Honda Civic with his family as he said his goodbyes. After he’d hugged them, he stood in front of me and opened his arms wide. We’d hugged before, but this one had lasted longer than usual. I kept expecting his arms to loosen, but they remained wrapped tightly around me. It would have been so easy to melt into him, but his family standing there only made me hyper-aware of all the places our bodies touched.

“Good luck,” I whispered as he stepped back, my fingers itching to tuck the piece of unruly hair that flopped across his forehead. I loved his hair. Next to his face, it was my favorite thing about him.

“You two behave,” he said, amber eyes flicking between Cass and me.

Cass raised her hand in a Girl Guides salute, except she had her forefinger and middle finger crossed. “Promise.”

Foster smirked back before he’d reached out to ruffle her hair.

The last time I’d seen him was that Christmas when he’d brought his out-of-province girlfriend home from school, crushing my fragile eighteen-year-old heart.

School and life had pulled us in different directions in the years between then and now, my heart slowly mending with a relationship of my own, only to be ripped to pieces five months ago.

When the lunch bell sounds, I’m brought back to the present, where I sit alone in my broom closet of an office. I have no clue if I should head to the staff room or stay put. There were no directions on how to engage with the teaching staff outside of dealing with students. Is it customary to eat with them or stay completely separate? This isn’t the only school I’m assigned to, but it is my home base, and building relationships isn’t exactly a bad thing. For today, though, I decide that I’ll hide away here, except when I reach for my lunch bag, it’s not there. In my haste to get to my first day on the job, I must have left my lunch sitting on the counter at home. I can already hear my mother. “Of course you did,” she would say through laughter before asking how the rest of my day went.

When I’ve convinced myself that I can survive one day without lunch, my stomach lets me know that that’s not an option. I’ll have to venture outside of my little office in search of a vending machine. At least I know I’ll find somewhat healthy snacks there since the province did away with junk food, not that I’d be upset if I had a bag of all-dressed chips or a Kit Kat. My stomach grumbles again, and I take a deep breath before rising and walking out into the hall. I find a vending machine around the second corridor I turn down.

“That one will turn to sawdust in your mouth.” My finger pauses over the P as my heart lodges in my throat. When I turn my head, copper eyes and a cocky grin greet me. “Hey, Soph.” Cool as a fucking cucumber.

I drop my hand and fully turn to him, not sure how to proceed. Adrenaline and something else course through my body. An urge to run away, perhaps?

“Oh, hey, Foster,” I manage to squeak. “I was”—I wave at the vending machine—“checking out the options.” A slightly too high laugh escapes, and I want to melt into the floor as nervous energy prickles across the surface of my skin.

The grin fades from his face as he looks behind me. “Don’t tell me that’s your lunch.” His eyebrows draw together in concern.

I shrug. “I don’t have— well, that is, I forgot my lunch. I made it, so I have it, I just don’t have it on my person. It’s still at home. It’s in a bright pink bag too and yet I left it on my counter like an idiot. ” Shut up, Sophie.

His face relaxes as he raises a blue nylon bag. “I’m happy to share.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to?—”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it, Soph.” He grins, and I give in. I’d be the worst spy. All it would take is Foster grinning at me and I’d spill all my secrets.

The softness of his gaze puts me at ease instantly. Magic eyes , I think as I slip my hands into my pockets and rock back on my heels, immediately regretting it when I realize I’m not nearly as close to the vending machine as I thought. My back slams into the glass, and relief rushes through me when the whole thing doesn’t topple over. I’m going to pretend I meant to do that and not acknowledge it, or the way Foster’s eyebrows are nearly in his hairline.

“I guess it depends what you’re offering,” I reason, sounding as bored as possible while feeling as far from bored as I have ever been.

“Some japchae, kimchi, and a couple chocolate chip cookies.”

I stare back, wide-eyed. I’m not exactly what you’d call an adventurous eater despite my mother’s countless attempts to make me one. “All I understood was chocolate chip cookies.”

“Japchae is a Korean noodle dish with vegetables and”—his head tilts, his eyes narrowing as he studies me—“you don’t know what kimchi is?”

“I think I’ve heard of it, but I don’t actually know what it is,” I admit, my face burning with my admission of ignorance.

His face lights up. “Fermented cabbage and some other veggies in a spicy chili paste. It’s not always made with cabbage. There are loads of different kinds, but the one I have…” he trails off when his eyes meet mine. “Information overload, sorry. You may like it, just trust me.”

My eyes narrow in suspicion. “The last time you told me to trust you I ended up with a nose full of cow shi… manure,” I whisper, glancing around. That moment was only marginally more embarrassing than nearly crashing through a vending machine.

“It’s not my fault you could never say no to a dare.” He smirks back. “Come on, Soph, I dare you to try the food. I made it myself.”

“You could be a terrible cook for all I know,” I fire back, pushing off the machine and standing at my full height, which usually makes me seem more intimidating than I am. Foster still towers over me, though, and I’m going to pretend I don’t like it.

He looks down at his bag, then back at me. “Guess you’ll have to try it to be sure. Otherwise you may spend the rest of the day hungry and wondering if I am, in fact, a good cook. Which, spoiler alert,” He leans in conspiratorially. “I am.”

He’s too close now, and there is definitely a little glint in his eye. All the nerves that I’d pushed down bubble back up.

“Fine.” I sigh.

“Mind if we eat in your office? I’d love to catch up before the other teachers pounce.” My stomach flips at the thought of being confined to such a small space with him. But I nod and lead the way.

“Not a lot of real estate, eh?” Foster observes, pulling out the chair across from mine as far as it can go, which isn’t far.

He starts opening containers, and I distract myself by searching for the plastic-wrapped takeout fork I’d seen in a drawer earlier.

“You sure you’re not going to still be hungry if you share?” I ask, taking in the containers that don’t look like enough food for two.

“I’ll be fine. Jessica and I have a stash of snacks in the classroom.”

“What kind of snacks?” I ask, watching him spoon out strange-looking noodles onto the container’s lid.

He glances up, that glint back in his eyes. “Contraband. Packed with sugar and sodium and hundreds of other ingredients we can’t pronounce.” He slides half the food toward me. “Go on, try it.”

I look down skeptically at the mix of things in front of me. It doesn’t look gross, but I’ve never eaten see-through noodles before. I take a tentative forkful and chew thoughtfully, letting the flavors envelop my tastebuds. Sweet and savory notes explode as I chew. It’s unlike anything I’ve had before, but I’m already craving another bite. When I look up, Foster is watching expectantly.

“So?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked.

“It’s really good,” I concede. “Like the best thing I’ve tried in a while.” I take another bite, chew and swallow. “It’s very moreish.”

“Excellent. Now, try the kimchi.”

The minute the cabbage is through my lips I want to spit it out, not because it’s gross but because it feels like I’ve stuck a lit match into my mouth.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, desperately looking around for a tissue while fanning my mouth dramatically.

“Here.” Foster hands over a napkin from his bag.

I grab it and spit the fire cabbage out as delicately as possible before rapidly sucking in air, which only fuels the flames currently destroying my taste buds. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever tried,” I exclaim, reaching for my water bottle.

“Really?” he asks, looking genuinely shocked. “It’s not even that hot. This was a mild batch.”

“Nothing about that was mild, Foster,” I sputter between gulps. “Should be called lava cabbage.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree. Eat more of the noodles, they’ll cool you off.” I follow his direction and am pleased to discover that it helps. “Can you handle any spice?”

“Mild salsa is too hot for me.”

To his credit, he looks apologetic. “I should have asked, I’m sorry.”

“I have the spice tolerance of a slug,” I say through more nervous laughter.

“Are slugs particularly bothered by spice?”

I think for a minute. “I don’t actually know.” I giggle. “I think it’s salt they have an issue with.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckles and takes another bite of food while my brain goes on one of its famous tangents.

Why would he need to keep that in mind? Is he going to cook for me again? Not that he cooked for me today but is he thinking about doing it in the future, on purpose? Do I want him to cook for me? I think I do, but should I? How is he so fucking hot? Does he realize? Am I being weird? I’m definitely being weird.

When my mind stops with the grocery list of questions, we fall into an easy rhythm catching up. He’s lived in the city ever since he got home from a year spent teaching English in South Korea. I’m pretty sure Cass had mentioned where he’d gone, but I’d done a good job of quickly forgetting all things Foster-related at the age of eighteen. Self-preservation and all that.

“How did you end up in the city and at this school?” he asks while packing up the containers as we both nibble on our cookies, that he made of course.

“I moved to the city for my undergrad, loved it, and stayed for my master’s. After graduation, I got a job in the social work department, which was fine, despite the fact I didn’t want to be in academia. I wanted”—I gesture around the tiny office—“this,” I say dramatically. “Life changes occurred, and one of my former advisors suggested applying for this position while Hazel went on maternity leave.”

“So I’m more of a newcomer to the city than you,” he says, leaning back in the chair.

“I guess you are. If you need any tips and tricks, I’ve got a few.”

“Such as?” He quirks an eyebrow, and I’m momentarily distracted by the way it arches.

“If you pace it right, you can hit the green light highway when moving across the city east to west and vice versa,” I say confidently.

“That’s literally the only tip people give you when you move here,” he scoffs, and my heart sinks. He’s not wrong; it was one of the first things I was told when I arrived.

“Okay, how about…” My right foot starts to bounce under my desk, and I focus on that instead of the question.

A knock on the door comes before I can refocus. “Come in,” I call, glancing quickly at Foster, who is looking at me, another question on his lips. His stupidly perfect lips.

Principal Wong opens the door and immediately looks surprised when her eyes land on Foster. “Oh, Mr. Walsh, we were wondering where you’d gone off to,” she greets him before turning to me. “I’m sorry, Miss Hore, I should have let you know you’re welcome to join us in the staff room at any time. No pressure of course, but it’s as much your space as everyone else’s.”

“Thank you, I’ll definitely join one day.” I smile up at her. “Fost— ugh, I mean, Mr. Walsh was kind enough to share his lunch with me. Mine is still sitting on my kitchen counter.”

“I can’t think of a better person to share lunch with.” She smiles kindly, looking down at her watch. “Bell’s about to ring, and I’ve taken Mrs. Walker’s yard duty. I’ll see you out there, Mr. Walsh.” She waves and shuts the door.

Foster stands the minute the door closes. “I totally forgot I was on duty today.” He grimaces. “Someone always bleeds when I’m on duty.”

“Bleeds?”

“Lots of bloody noses, unexplained cuts, things like that. Last year, a kid fell off the top of the slide and ended up with a compound fracture. I, ugh”—he rubs the back of his neck, looking at the door—“may have fainted.”

“Mr. Walsh, do you not like the sight of blood?” I tease.

“Does anyone?”

I shrug. “I’m sure some people do. Vampires, serial killers, some doctors maybe.”

“Vampires aren’t real.”

“There are people who identify as vampires because they drink one another’s blood,” I correct, and he stares blankly back at me.

“And with that, I’m off.” He opens the door, his head shaking. “Want me to bring you some lunch tomorrow?” he asks, turning back to me.

I blink up at him, unable to make my mouth move. Do I want him to bring me lunch tomorrow? Teenage me is absolutely losing her shit right now. Say yes, you dummy, he’s practically asking you on a date. “While that’s very tempting, I’ll bring what I had packed for today. Thanks, Foster.” I give a little wave when he nods his goodbye.

After Foster leaves, I rearrange the office because I can’t focus on my notes while this room doesn’t work for me. It shouldn’t take me long between the size and what’s in here, but I don’t like the configuration. In the middle of doing that, I get thirsty and go to fill my water bottle up. Then I get distracted by the art that lines the hallway in the primary wing. I can hear the kids outside playing and wonder how things are going out there for Foster. I can practically see him cheering on one of the kids as they show him how good they are at swinging or something.

I haven’t daydreamed about Foster in a very long time, and all it took was one lunch with him to have me falling back into the habit. You’re over the crush, and even if you weren’t, you aren’t ready for anything. And while my head repeats that reminder, my stupid heart beats to the rhythm of he’s here, he’s here, he’s here .