I Can Fix That

Chapter 11

Teaching was one of those jobs where you had to know your limit. If you didn’t make yourself stop, you’d work all night. I know because I’d done it before.

If I wanted my classroom to be perfect, I would work till three a.m. each day, which would lead to extreme burnout. How do you find the balance while considering your mental health and getting your work done? I’d been working here for three years, but I still didn’t know the answer.

With my students gone to the gym for their recess, I found myself pushing to get as much done as possible. I turned my phone on do not disturb and closed out my email and IMs for the day to focus purely on this. That’s when I did my best work. I’d be out of here by four o’clock each day.

It’s not that I didn’t like teaching…it was fantastic. I got to watch my students grow up and learn and become themselves. It was something one could only experience as a teacher or a parent. It had to be the most rewarding job out there—not the easiest—but definitely the most rewarding.

I looked down at the clock on my computer, two-twenty-three. I knew it would take me five minutes to get to the gym, so I began to get my things ready. I grabbed my keys and turned my phone off do not disturb, resulting in more notifications than I was prepared to answer. I locked my classroom door and checked each text and email as I made my way across the school.

There were multiple parent emails, including sick excuses and questions about the at-home assignments. There was also a missed call from my mom and a text from Ashley asking how I was doing. But out of all of those, one stands out the most.

Cranky Contractor: Should I be concerned about my role Saturday morning?

I smiled down at my phone and my heartbeat impatiently against my chest. I felt dizzy just from a simple text. At this point, I could not even lie to myself about how much I liked this man.

I thought about him laying tile down, all hot and sweaty, and taking a break from working on his project simply to reach out to me. I had half a mind to invite him to help Saturday morning. The thought of Grant trying to bake is laughable. Besides, what’s stopping us from hanging out?

I decided to reply.

Me: Yes, you should be terrified.

I added a winky face at the end. After hitting send, I had the urge to throw my phone in the schoolyard and run to hide from his response. However, I kept my composure and continued my walk to the gym when I felt my phone buzz not even a minute later.

Cranky contractor: Bring it on, Hart.

Nothing could hold back the smile that spread across my face, and I couldn’t deny the happiness I felt deep inside my chest.

I knew Grant wasn’t a long-term kind of guy; he made it clear he doesn’t have girlfriends or relationships that lasted longer than a couple of days. But that didn’t seem to stop him from placing himself near me when he got the chance.

Looking back, though, the way his eyes trailed my legs with the hunger he held for me, how his strong hands were placed on my back and trailing down to my—yeah, no, I definitely didn’t know how we could be just friends.

I was a simple girl. I liked putting everything in a box and checking it off when I was done. But a man like Grant came with unpredictability and arbitrary plans that gave me stress. I liked to have fun, and if all he wanted was a friend with benefits situation, I could probably let that slide, no harm, no foul. But how his deep eyes stared into mine and how he always said he wanted me to stand up for myself, or how he continuously checked in on how I’m doing…I highly doubted that was what he wanted either.

So being just friends didn’t feel like an option, and friends with benefits felt…off. My thoughts ran to Grant and I having a purely sexual relationship, and my ears began to get hot; I physically shook my head as if to knock myself out of it. My thoughts were way too inappropriate for someone on her way to pick up twenty-three kids.

Making my way to the gym, I opened the doors to see my students in a semi-single file line. They hadn’t noticed me yet, so I slipped in quietly and made my way to the side wall.

One of my girls peeked my way and immediately smiled and started waving my way excitedly. “Ms. Hart!” The once single file line was now a chaotic clump, and it’s become clear to me the little ones have not worked out all their energy today.

I giggled at their happy jumps and made my way over, “Okay, come on, get back in line.” I strived to corral them back together but couldn’t help but smile at how sweet they were when they got excited to see me.

Teaching was a trade-off; you had days where you were quite honestly sick of your students, they would drive you up the wall with a new trend phrase or joke and give you burnout by eleven a.m. And then I had other days where I was genuinely sad to send them home. Ever since the project on my house came up, I hadn’t been as involved personally in the students’ lives, and although I still had strong relationships with them and their parents, I had a sense of guilt for no longer putting them first.

I only didn't have much school left till summer was out, and whereas I usually signed up quickly to help with summer school at the high school, I decided not to this summer so I could pack and get moving once Grant had completed everything.

I signaled the students to follow me, and I took them back to the room, hoping to distract my thoughts of a particular friend who shall not be named.

∞∞∞

As the school day was wrapping up, my students became more restless. They were usually off the rails and ready to get home by the time they got out. Which meant for me that I had to think of some unique ways to wrangle them in. Different songs, dances, books, videos, anything I could to get them to listen. But with an hour left of school, the kids were cracked out on juice from lunch but did not have enough energy to pay attention, and my brain felt like it had been rung out like a towel.

Which meant whoever knocked on my door should expect the worst coming in here.

I strode over to the door, carefully stepping over the blocks and toys scattered from free time. When I grabbed the handle to open it I was surprised at the wall of muscles and tools that stood in front of me.

Wearing his typical work outfit of dark green pants and a gray shirt, his hat was on backward and dirt was smeared across his forehead—there was Grant.