We sat in silence for a moment. I held myself tense, begging Miles not to say anything for once in his life. But, of course, Miles could never NOT say something.
“One hundred pages all about the African dung beetle’s mating habits,” came the obnoxious voice beside me. “You’re a lucky woman with a fellow like that.”
“I think it will be fascinating,” I lied, brushing a piece of lint off my skirt before staring up at the stage, begging Pamela to begin whatever the heck this meeting was.
“Out of curiosity, how much do you charge for edits?” His low voice filtered into my ear, and my defenses immediately rose.
“Nothing. He’s a friend.”
“Really? I had no idea you two were so close.”
“Well, we are,” I clipped with a tight smile. “I’m happy to help him.”
Miles rubbed his face for a moment, looking toward the stage as though contemplating something. “Listen, it’s not my business, but just so you know, that many pages of a book to an editor costs me at least a couple hundred bucks. If you’re putting in the time, I think you should definitely be charging.”
“I’m so happy to have your opinion on something that’s, like you said, none of your business.” I leaned in closer to him and batted my eyes for effect.
He chuckled. “You know…you’re a lot nicer to everybody else but me. Why is that?”
Maybe it was because he stuck his nose in my business constantly. Or because he always made sure to tell me how I was living my life wrong. Thankfully, we were interrupted by Pamela, who was now on the stage, rainbows beaming from her round face.
“You’re all probably wondering why we called this staff meeting.” She paused and looked out at her audience, likely expecting more than the blank stares she got, but she wasn’t deterred. “Principal Harris and I were talking about how we appreciate you all so much. Every day, you show up and work so hard. The students here are so blessed…”
I zoned out after that. Pamela was a gusher. She oozed emotion. Not just emotion, but flowery emotion. Normally, that was great. She was a friend of mine, and her positive nature was usually contagious. But today, my patience was spent. Miles seemed to have zoned out as well. He leaned back in his seat with his head resting in the palm of his left hand. I’d bet if I listened closely enough, I’d hear some light snores eventually. He had to snore, right? He needed some sort of outer flaw to show the world he wasn’t perfect. Since I was almost certain he had his eyes closed, I allowed my side eye to trail disdainfully across his long, folded body squished in the auditorium seat. It pained me to admit it, but those ripped jeans fit him like they would the mannequin at one of those hip teenage stores in the mall. A store that was too cool for me even when I was a teenager. He also wore a flannel shirt rolled at the sleeves. My eyes lingered on the veins in his forearm. Miles was tall and lanky, but I suddenly wondered if there were muscles hidden underneath all the flannel.
Alright, Olive…move along. I couldn’t afford to be distracted by forearms if they were attached to Miles Taylor. Millie would die if she found out I’d even had the thought.
“Should I just take the shirt off?” Miles suddenly whispered.
My breath hitched, alarmed that he was not dozing off like I had originally thought. “Excuse me?”
“You looked like you were undressing me with your eyes. I could make it easier for you.”
My mouth gaped open, very much aware of the pompous smile growing on his face—and my traitorous heartbeat.
“I’d rather not have nightmares tonight,” I said, swallowing.
He leaned in close. “You look like you’re sweating.” He scanned my face, a hint of laughter in his eyes. “Flushed face.” He scooped up my hand and held it in his palm before I could react. “Clammy hands. I’ll bet your pulse is tumultuous.”
My heart spiked as I yanked my hand out of his grasp and pushed a laughing Miles away. Immediately, I regretted the touch. I could now confirm there were definite muscles underneath the annoying remarks, and I didn’t need to know that. I forced my brain to get back in the game.
“Tumultuous. That’s a big word. Have you been sneaking into my classes again?”
“No, just reading your journal,” he said, laughing.
I opened my mouth to reply but caught only air. He had won this round, and it hurt a little. As if he knew that, he flashed me an irritating smile. I was happy to report that the lines that crinkled around his eyes did nothing to soften me toward him. I turned back toward the stage, tucking my hair behind my ear as nonchalantly as possible.
“The school board, as well as Mr. Harris and I, tried to look at all of our wonderful staff’s excellent contributions over the past year,” Pamela was saying, her bright face animated. “And we wanted to honor you all. So, for the first year ever, we are doing a Teacher’s Appreciation award ceremony!”
She looked like she wanted us to clap. It was almost 4 pm on the last day of school before our Christmas break. We just wanted to go home. However, when Miles joined the handful of gracious souls giving a few half-hearted claps, I clapped as well.
“We’ll start with the art department. Come on up here, art department.” Pamela waved her hands excitedly. Millie and her colleagues stood up and made a show of rushing toward the stage in mock excitement.
I slunk down in my seat and began making a mental list of the things I needed to do before leaving for Vermont the next morning. I had to clean my house, do one last load of laundry, pack, buy a new bottle of Tylenol, find a red pen for Kenneth’s thesis, water my plants, wrap my Christmas presents…
“What are you hoping to get?” Miles’s voice infiltrated my thoughts. “Most organized? Friendliest doormat?”
My toes curled, but I forced myself to smile, even as his burn began leaving its mark. “Better than Easiest A, which is what you’ll probably get.”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“Aren’t you planning to read Harry Potter in class? Nobly teaching the kids everything about a book they already know?”
“I’m using it to study story structure, Celery Stick. Not to read it to them in class.”