I lifted my gaze shyly. “I hate that I always make our conversations about me and my problems.”
“Don’t be sorry. I like talking about you.”
His words brought a fierce blush to my face, which I took as a good sign. See? I was interested in Eli. I liked his compliments. I liked his attention.
But then all of that was ruined when a rolling wave of nausea crashed through me and I thought I would be sick.
I swallowed back strong coffee and a hell of a lot of half-and-half and gave him a trembling smile. “Thank you for taking me out for coffee even if I’ve failed at conversation.”
He watched me for long moments. Something flashed in his eyes, dimming them slightly. I didn’t know him well enough to name every one of his emotions, but I was pretty sure this one could be called disappointment.
I nibbled on my lip self-consciously and tried to think of something to talk about.
“Has your school year improved?” he asked before I could say anything.
I threw myself into paying attention to him. “A little. I think the junior class is trying to get me to retire early. Really early. Possibly by Christmas break. But other than that it’s mostly battling freshman to remember everything they need for class and going to war with seniors who think they’re graduating tomorrow instead of in May.”
“Your year sounds a lot like mine,” he chuckled. “The juniors this year are something special.”
“You would think I knew what to expect since I’ve had them for the last two years. But they are pulling out all the stops this quarter. Actually, I have one class with both juniors and seniors that is truly a challenge. I had to break up a fight yesterday over some HBO show. I thought they were going to send each other to the hospital.”
“Who was it?”
“Jay Allen and Andre Gonzalez.” He nodded at me sympathetically. “If those two boys were able to combine their egos, I think they would usher in Armageddon. I’ve never had such egotistical maniacs in class at the same time before. It’s out of control.”
Eli let out a bark of laughter and leaned forward. His fingers brushed mine, but I had to be honest with myself and say I didn’t feel a single tingle or butterfly.
This was too soon for me.
That was abundantly clear.
“They really are something else,” he agreed. “If they both make it to graduation, it will be a miracle.”
That sobered me some. “I hope they do. Those two kids need high school diplomas. I don’t want to think of what their futures hold if they drop out.”
He canted his head and the corners of his lips drew down. “They might find a future like that anyway.”
I took a deep breath and pressed my lips together to keep from agreeing with him. This was the price we paid as teachers. It didn’t matter whether we worked in an inner-city school or a wealthy private one in the suburbs, we could invest everything we had in our students and they could still throw their lives away after graduation. We could give them every single thing in our educational arsenal, and they could still make poor decisions that ruined any chance of a successful future they had.
That was the problem with caring so deeply for the kids I taught. I wasn’t really responsible for them. I had no control over their lives or the decisions they made. I gave and gave and gave and then hoped and hoped and hoped they learned something from me.
Eli downed the rest of his coffee and set his cup down on the small table that sat between us. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”
I clutched my huge, gray mug with both hands. “Thanks for inviting me.”
We were silent an awkward beat too long when he said, “You’re not ready for this.”
My eyes snapped up and widened at him. “What?”