I open the door and move down the waxed hallway of the private school, passing framed portraits of the last five school board presidents. Artwork isn’t posted in the halls of the prestigious institution, but I more than make up for that rule in my classroom, which is an explosion of color and happiness.
Before I can reach my door, however, where I plan to collect my things and take the bus back to the apartment I now share with Granger, a fellow teacher steps into my path.
“Hey there, Peyton,” he says warmly, sticking his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants. “Thank God it’s Friday, right?”
A frisson of alarm passes through me, my pulse beginning to pound. I try not to let the fear show on my face. How long after Tony’s actions am I going to feel this apprehension every time a man comes close to me?
After a week of living with Granger, I’m beginning to relax around him (the lock he installed on my door doesn’t hurt). After he went to the trailer park and collected my things, I officially moved in and we commenced a comfortable routine. Granger cooks breakfast and drives me to the school, before heading to his job at the garage repairing cars. When I arrive home, I prepare dinner, since he doesn’t get back until later. We watch television together, do the dishes side by side, laugh at each other’s workplace stories. It’s so…easy.
And he doesn’t try to touch me. Ever. Not so much as a graze.
Sometimes I feel electricity on the back of my neck when we’re both in the apartment. When I turn around, though, he’s busy working on an engine part or chopping vegetables in the kitchen. I have to confess, when he asked me to move into the guest room, I worried it would end up being a bad idea. Granger is mysterious—we’ve never spoken about his past and I haven’t brought it up, wanting to keep our relationship light and friendly. I grow more curious about him by the day, however, this man who has become my friend. My comfort.
The one who makes me feel safe.
I don’t feel safe right now with my fellow teacher standing so close to me. My brain tells me he is just being normal and I’m the one who is messed up, so I paste a smile onto my face. What did he say again?
Oh, right. Thank God it’s Friday.
“Yes,” I say, slowly edging back toward my classroom door. “I love the kids, but it’s nice to relax and regroup.”
“Absolutely,” he agrees affably, shifting in his loafers. “Speaking of relaxing, I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner over the weekend.” A flush darkens his cheekbones. “You’ve only been working here a short time and we haven’t really had the chance to get to know each other.”
My legs are stiff. Frozen.
I’m being silly, aren’t I? Nothing actually happened with my stepbrother the night I ran away. It’s more what could have happened that keeps me awake at night. That and having my safe space compromised. Being caught off guard when I thought I was secure. “Um…” I don’t know what to say, so I stall. “I’m sorry, I’m so bad with names. Can you remind me…”
“Wow, I really jumped the gun asking you out, didn’t I?” He laughs, shakes his head. “I’m Paul. I teach algebra to the older students.”
“Right. Paul.” I vaguely remember being introduced to him on the first day of school, but being a new teacher, I met everyone at the same time, so a lot of the faces blended together. “Thank you for asking. I’m just not really…dating at the moment.”
Why can’t I get Granger’s face out of my mind?
I can almost feel him frowning. Which is ridiculous. We’ve decided to be friends and that’s exactly what we are.
“Oh,” Paul says, still smiling. “That’s fine. I totally understand.” He hesitates. “I hope you don’t mind if I try again in a few months. Just in case you decide to start seeing people. I don’t want to miss my opportunity.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’d rather he didn’t ask again, but I don’t want to get a reputation among the staff for being impolite, so I nod. “Sure.”
An hour later, I’m putting away some groceries in the kitchen when Granger gets home from work. His hooded gaze locks in on me as soon as his boots cross the threshold and my muscles tense involuntarily. But not the way they did when Paul approached me in the school hallway. It’s more of a zapping jolt of awareness. And really, I’d have to be dead not to be aware of my new best friend.
He’s a presence.
When he enters the room, the temperature seems to rise.
He kicks off his boots, toeing them neatly into place beside my black ballet flats, staring at the line of shoes for a few seconds, before slowly advancing toward the kitchen. I’ve noticed Granger has this habit of plowing fingers through his hair and holding on to it at the crown of his head, leaving his arm raised. Bent and flexed. Why is that slick bulge of muscle so distracting? In combination with his intense focus on me, I’m caught between feeling treasured…and like a bunny rabbit caught in a trap with the hunter approaching.