Chloe
My classroom was absolute chaos.
Between the little voices, the adult ones, and my kid-friendly, not annoying playlist — the noise level was roughly around the decibel level of the Tampa Bay arena during a hockey game or a Mia Love concert.
Desks and tables were pushed together with the tablecloths I’d purchased failing miserably at keeping sugar and sticky goo off the wood. We’d had three milk spills already and one box of a dozen donuts dropped on the carpet — which was the kind that held stains like my mother held grudges.
But it was the most magical sort of chaos.
I felt like sunbeams were about to burst out of me as I looked around at it all, taking in the various groups of parents and children. It would be hell to wrangle these little humans once their fathers left, but right now, they were smiling brightly and chattering on and on about what they’d been learning in class.
Their tiny fingers pointed to various areas in the room — our counting posters that lined the top of the white board, the world map and globe that we’d been exploring, the cork board where I proudly displayed their best artwork.
They were so happy, so carefree, so thrilled just to share this little bit of their world with their dads.
It was hard not to feel your ovaries swelling when you saw something like that.
The dads wore various expressions. Though most of them smiled and asked questions and laughed when they had to clean their kids mouth after a powdered donut incident, some of them sighed and watched the clock and wrinkled their noses at the mess.
This was par for the course.
It was easy to see who’d been forced into coming, whether by their wives or someone else, and who actually wanted to be here.
I made my rounds, making sure I stopped to speak with every parent and paid special attention to the kids whom I could tell were a bit uncomfortable. They may have been five-year-olds, but they weren’t stupid. They could tell if their father wanted to be there or not.
One moment, my heart would be full, watching a dad hold his kid in his lap and snap a picture on his phone, or grab two donuts and hold them up to his eyes like glasses to make his child laugh, or reach for his little one’s hand and ask them for a tour of the classroom.
The next moment, my heart would be breaking, watching a dad and his son sit in complete silence, or a grandfather try to cheer up his granddaughter who was no doubt wondering why her father couldn’t make the time to come, or two kids sitting alone together, eating their donuts and pretending it didn’t bother them that no one had come to join them.
I flitted around the room with a smile I hoped could lift any spirit, refilling milk, juice, and water cups, and stopping long enough to chat with each parent and child individually. I made sure to spend extra time with the kids who needed it most, especially my two who hadn’t had anyone show up for them.
Fortunately, a couple of the great dads had noticed my loners and had taken it upon themselves to help. I mouthed a thank you to Mr. Oster, who was currently holding the sticky hand of a kid who wasn’t his and asking about the rhyme wall.
I felt in my element as I drifted from table to table, answering questions for the dads who asked them, and making sure I had something positive to say about each kid, something to brag about. It was easy to do, since they all felt a little like my own. I knew so much about them now. I knew who was quiet and who was outgoing. I knew whose hand would shoot up quickly when I asked a question and who would dip their head shyly and wait for me to ask them what they thought. I knew who was a jokester and who took everything seriously. I knew who had the softest heart and who wore the toughest skin.
They weren’t my babies, but in so many ways, they were.
As I walked around that room handing out hugs and smiles, I swore I felt a pair of steely eyes following me every step of the way.
I told myself I wasn’t avoiding Will Perry as I stopped at every other table before making my way to his last. It was just that he and Ava were in the corner. It was just that they happened to be sitting with three of my best students with fathers whom I knew wouldn’t be checking their watch and hauling ass as soon as the event was over. It was just because I had nothing to worry about with that little A-plus table.
It was certainly not because I’d had a highly inappropriate dream about him last night, one where he slipped into my bed and raked my nightgown up and dared me to apologize one more time.
It was absolutely not because that dream had woken me, or that I had given in to my desires and rubbed myself against the pillow between my legs until I found relief.
And it was one-hundred percent not because any time Ava hugged me, he watched me in a way that made me feel like I was the best thing that had happened to him.
Or that when his daughter wasn’t around, I felt those eyes on me in a much more heated manner — in a way that seared my skin and boiled my blood.
Nope.
It was definitely not because of any of that.
As the Donuts with Dad event neared the end, however, I could no longer avoid that table in the corner — not that I was avoiding — and so, I made my way over with a bright smile, hands folded together in front of my pink skirt with sprinkles on it.
I’d paired it with a white sweater covered in glazed donuts.
The way Will’s eyes lingered on me as I approached that table made me feel like I’d dressed to theme a bit too well, because I was fairly certain he was tempted to take a bite if I got too close.
God, why did he have to look at me like that?
It was too easy to convince myself that he felt something, too. That he found me attractive. That he found me irresistible.
Which was ridiculous, and likely far from reality.
But was it?
The room spun and time slowed as I walked the short distance to that table, Will’s eyes latched onto me every step of the way. He only let that gaze brush over my outfit for a split second before he held my stare, and he didn’t blink, didn’t waver, didn’t smile or wave.
He just watched me like it was torture to have me coming closer.
He was a sight with his long, chestnut hair down instead of pulled back, the strands of it shaping the hard edges of his jaw. As promised, he wore his jersey to match Ava, but he’d paired it with black joggers and sneakers that made him look both professional and cozy enough to curl up with on the couch.
His golden eyes held both heat and sadness, like there was a war inside him between holding on to the pain of the past five years, and moving forward into a future that was beckoning him to be reborn. The way he watched me made me want to hold him and let him cry just as much as it made me want to straddle his lap and do my very best to remember anything from those Cosmo magazines I’d read years ago.
“Chloe!” Ava said when I reached the table, and she broke the spell I was under when she hopped out of her seat and threw her arms around my legs before breaking away excitedly. “Look what we made!”
She pointed to the middle of the table where a triangular dome of donuts had been built, a precariously leaning structure of deliciousness that looked as yummy as it did dangerous.
“Wow!” I said, bending at the waist and planting my hands on my knees to inspect the sticky architecture. “You all did this?”
Ava nodded emphatically. “Yep!”
“It was Gunner’s idea,” Gunner’s dad said proudly.
“And look what I drew!” Charlotte said from beside him, nearly knocking down their donut tower in her effort to show me how she’d illustrated the table of people she sat with — as donuts.
I had to cover my mouth not to laugh at the sight of Will as a donut — complete with long flowing hair, a hockey stick, and a scowl drawn with two deep black crayon lines between his googly eyes.
“That,” I said, taking the paper from her hands. “Is one for the wall.”
She clapped with glee as I left long enough to hang the drawing with a thumbtack on the cork board, and then I rejoined them, having a seat at one of the small chairs between Will and Charlotte’s dad.
I got caught up in a conversation with Mr. West about how his daughter had been doing since the death of their dog, that had been around since before she was born. I listened intently and assured him that she was doing great, all while I felt a pair of eyes burning into the back of my head.
Why was it so hard to even look at him?
Eventually, Mr. West released me, and I smiled at the others at the table — finding them all engaged in activities or conversations. Even Ava was bent over a new drawing with Charlotte, the two of them delegating who would color what.
Which left me no choice but to look to my left.
At Will.
There was no avoiding the heat that crept from my neck all the way down to my toes as I turned to face him, and I hoped my smile was the kind that could cover my stupid crush. I hoped it screamed professionalism. I hoped it did not scream hey, I had a wet dream about you last night!
“So, which donut was your favorite?” I asked.
And then I promptly cringed, and tucked my hair behind my ear only to untuck it, and then cracked my knuckles before grimacing in horror when I realized Will was cataloguing each nervous tic.
I folded my hands together and stuck them in my lap to prevent further embarrassment.
“Don’t do that.”
Chills swept over my shoulders and down to my fingertips at those gruff words leaving his mouth.
“Do what?”
“Try to make small talk with me when we live together.”
I thought I saw a dad at the table ahead of us angle his head at that, like he was suddenly more interested in what was happening at our table.
I lowered my voice and cleared my throat. “Sorry.”
Will arched a brow at me in warning.
“What?! I apologize a lot, okay? Get over it.”
I waited for him to growl something back at me, but instead, he just… stared. His golden eyes held mine captive, like he was searching for something.
And then, he smirked.
It was ridiculous how that tiny, pathetic excuse for a smile made my heart triple its pace, but it did. I felt like I was thirteen again, reading a blowjob scene from a Wattpad story under my covers well after Mom and Grandma were asleep, instead of sitting at a table full of dads and their kids.
Everything this man did now had my skin tingling, my blood pumping faster, my toes curling in my shoes. He dripped with sex appeal even when he didn’t try to, and it was becoming a real issue for his new nanny who was trying very hard not to drool over him.
“You’re amazing.”
I blinked. “Um… what?”
Will gestured one large hand to the classroom, like it was obvious. I took that precise moment to take in how hilariously bizarre this beast of a man looked folded into a little kid’s chair.
“I’ve never seen you in your element,” he said. “I mean, not since those first days of school when I was walking Ava in.” He paused, his brows inching together. “You really do love this job, don’t you. You love these kids.”
Neither one of those statements were questions, though he posed them as so.
“I do,” I breathed on a smile, looking around the room. I tucked my hair behind my ear again on habit before internally cursing and shoving my hands back in my lap. “These kids, they’re so young, so innocent. They’re discovering the world for the first time. They’re honest — sometimes brutally so,” I added on a laugh. “But they’re also heartbreakingly kind and gentle. They’re raw, like putty waiting for a strong hand to shape them. I like thinking that maybe I can plant some seeds that will grow as they do. I like the thought that some of their best qualities could be molded right here in this classroom.”
I laughed a little at myself, hiding my blush as I looked down at my hands in my lap.
“And at the very least, I like knowing that for the hours they’re here with me, they can feel safe. And loved. And free to be themselves.”
Will was quiet for so long I wasn’t sure I wanted to look at him, for fear I’d see him looking at me like I was insane.
Instead, it was awe I found in his gaze when I met it. Genuine, unfiltered wonder.
“Oh, stop looking at me like that,” I said on a laugh, shoving playfully at his shoulder — which didn’t so much as budge an inch. “You act like it’s not you who is the amazing one to watch at work. I’m just a teacher — one in a billion. But you are a professional hockey player. A goalie. Literally one in, what, thirty?” I shook my head. “I’m nothing in comparison.”
That made his scowl deepen, his jaw hard as stone. “You are far from nothing, Chloe. You…”
I hung on that word, on what would come after it, but as if he thought better of what he was about to say, he never finished.
Instead, he shook his head and took a large drink of his water before looking at me again — this time, with somewhat of a cocky smirk and a playfulness in my eyes.
“I didn’t realize you watched me so closely at the arena,” he said. “Had I known, I would have shown off a bit more.”
I snorted. “Please — like you don’t know what you look like when you’re doing all those… those…” I waved my hand. “Hip thrust things.”
He cocked a brow.
“You know, the warm-up humps.” My face flushed, and I looked around to make sure no one was listening to us. “You look like you’re deflowering the ice, and there’s no way you don’t know that. There’s no way you don’t see all those phones recording you during that particular part of the warm up.”
The corner of his mouth climbed. “Did you just say deflowering? What, are we in the seventeenth century?”
I narrowed my gaze at him, fighting back my smile. “There are little ears around.”
“For the record, I didn’t realize,” he said. “But now that I know, I’ll make sure to go nice and slow through those stretches. Since they’re your favorite.”
He winked at me, and I was surprised I didn’t fall backward right off that tiny chair my ass was far too large for.
Was Will Perry flirting with me?
There was a pause between us before his eyes widened like he’d just had the same thought, and he quickly scowled and stood, abruptly announcing that he was going to use the restroom.
When he came back, the event was ending, and he left with a kiss to Ava’s cheek and not a single word to me.
I spent the rest of the day in a haze, not sure if I was teaching my sugar-powered kids anything of use or if I was just mumbling incoherent thoughts at the front of the class.
But eventually, the day was over, the kids were picked up, and Ava and I were tidying the classroom. She loved when I gave her something to do, and currently, she was meticulously wiping down each table with Lysol wipes while humming along to a Mia Love album she’d begged me to put on the speaker.
I, on the other hand, was staring blankly at my laptop screen with my heart thundering in my chest.
I was officially out of my element, and I needed help.
But as a woman whose closest friends were her mother and grandmother — who decidedly would not be good confidants for this particular subject — I had to get a little creative.
Fortunately for me, there was a wonderful little corner of the interwebs called Reddit.
And right there in my classroom under a vague username and with a little courage from a glazed donut, I posted my first thread.
Help: I’m falling for my boss.
• • •
Ava and I arrived home to a surprise in the form of Maven and Livia in the kitchen with Chef Patel.
Ava ran full-speed at them, hugging each and spouting on animatedly about our day — especially the Donuts with Dad event. I watched with a tired smile as the three adult women tried to keep up.
Eventually, Ava was out of breath, and I ruffled her hair before Arushi was setting her up with a snack at the dining table. I told her she could have twenty minutes of screen time — this strange girl could never get enough of hockey highlights on YouTube — and once she was set up with the iPad, I sank into one of the empty barstools at the kitchen island.
“And how’s our favorite teacher?” Maven asked with a smile that told me she already knew.
I laid my head on my arms with a groan. “Let’s just say any day that involves that much sugar is a tough one.”
Livia chuckled. “I don’t know how you do it. The only kid I can stand to be around is that one right there,” she said, pointing toward Ava in the next room over. “And even that has its limits.”
“What about when I have kids?” Maven asked, crossing her arms.
“Oh, I suppose I can put up with them. So long as you let me spoil them rotten.”
“And so long as you keep them away from your toys,” Maven shot back.
Arushi raised a brow at that from where she was doing the dishes, and then she nodded at me, her dark brown eyes as warm as ever. “Want me to make you anything? Will said he was going to go to the driving range for a while, and when he’s there, it’s usually hours.”
“Ooohhh, bad man,” Maven said. “I know it’s bye week, but he could get in real trouble for that.”
“Something tells me that man doesn’t worry about trouble,” Livia said. “And something tells me you could use a margarita,” she added with a nod toward me.
I sat back up with a sigh. “I’m fine. Just…”
My words faded. I’d created my post on Reddit, but so far, had no comments. Looking around at the three women who had become new friends to me, I wondered if I could somehow get their advice without admitting who I was needing advice about.
“Okay,” Maven said, her manicured nail pointing right at me. “I know that look. It’s not those kids who’ve got you all flustered.”
Livia gasped. “It’s a man!”
Chef leaned in. “A man? Um… would we know this man?”
Maven and Livia both blanched at each other before grabbing ahold of my arms like I was about to spill the biggest secret in the world.
“Okay, first of all, you three are nuts,” I said on a laugh. “Secondly… you know Will. Do you honestly think he’s the one I’m in my head about?”
Maven flattened her lips at that. “Hmm… okay. Probably not. That man is about as warm as an ice cube.”
“But you didn’t deny that it’s not a man,” Livia pointed out. “Spill.”
Arushi narrowed her eyes at me like she didn’t believe Will was out of the question.
So, I thought fast, and told the best white lie I’d ever created in my life.
In my story, there was a teacher at school. Noah. And Noah was kind of stand-offish, kind of grumpy, but had recently opened up to me. I’d also caught him looking at me in ways that felt… well, like he wanted to lick me from head to toe.
Livia loved that little tidbit.
I proceeded to add that Noah was recently divorced, that there were complications since we worked together, and that I wasn’t sure if I was reading too much into things.
There.
That should do it.
When I finished, Maven let out a whistle. “Well, that is kind of complicated. I mean, a coworker is one thing, especially if there are no official rules against it at your school. But a divorced man?” She shook her head. “He might still be hung up on his ex.”
I wasn’t thinking of Noah anymore, I was thinking of the real man at hand. Of Will. Of how he might still be feeling a very complex bag of emotions concerning Jenny.
“Yeah,” I said softly.
“Oh, please,” Livia interrupted, waving her hands. “No man gets a pass for that shit. Listen, this sounds to me like a classic case of a scared little boy. He likes you. He probably wants to…” she quirked a brow over my shoulder at where Ava was before lowering her voice. “He probably wants to bend you over one of those little desks and twist you up like a pretzel.”
“You’re so bad,” Maven whispered to her on a laugh.
“But he’s scared, okay? He doesn’t want to make the first move and get rejected. So, make the first move yourself,” she said, standing up straight and confident. “Be bold, my babe. Real men love that shit.”
“I don’t disagree,” Maven said.
“Neither do I.” Our heads swung to Chef Patel, who was finishing up dishes and wiping her hands on a towel. “Maybe Noah is out of practice. After all, I’m sure he went through a lot. With the divorce.”
Something about her gaze, about the way those words clipped out of her told me she didn’t buy my Noah story one bit.
I swallowed but didn’t show my cards. Instead, I forced a smile and nodded. “You’re right. I… maybe I’ll just ask him.”
“No, don’t ask,” Livia said. “Move. Grab his hand, or run yours along his back. Hell, go in for a kiss next time you two are alone, if that’s what it takes. Just show him you’re interested, and if he doesn’t take the cue from there…”
She shrugged, and Maven finished for her. “Then he isn’t worth your time.”
“Thanks,” I said, and this time, my smile was genuine. “I’m not used to having someone to talk to about stuff like this.”
“We’re here anytime,” Maven assured me.
“I’m here almost all the time,” Arushi said under her breath, which made us all laugh.
And Livia rounded it all off with another low whisper, leaning in close so only I could hear. “And when you and Noah are ready to take things to the next level, you let me know. He sounds a little submissive.” She grinned salaciously. “And I know just how to handle a man like that.”
