⊹kity⊹

He didn’t label the experiments he had shoved into your storage because most of them were just his anyways. He had accidentally put some in there that belonged to students who were actively trying to complete their projects. As the research portion of the science fair work time began every student in his class was in the middle of experiments and needed their equipment.

He was looking for a funnel contraption, something with wire and mesh to strain a solution. He had put together this tool for one of his students so he knew exactly what it looked like… just not where it was. 

There was a loud clang as something fell and tumbled out onto the floor. 

“Mr.Grace, you shouldn’t be rifling through Ms.Whyen’s closet.” 

“Thank you, Miles. But, she’ll allow it.” His voice was muffled as he was halfway into the closet already. 

Miles shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah! You’re making a mess!” Another student spoke up. 

“Don’t worry Ms.Whyen said I could use her closet.” Mr.Grace tried to calm down the class. 

The thirty kids all looked at him with concerned faces. “Why are you using her closet anyways?” One girl spoke up. 

“Well, I have so much science equipment that my closet is full now.” He explained to the class. “And your teacher was kind enough to let me use her space too.” 

“Why hers though?” The same girl cocked her head to the side. 

“She’s the closest classroom.” He moved a small box out of the way, rifling through it to find what he needs. 

“Is that the only reason?” Her voice strained on a couple of words, insinuating there could be more to their relationship. 

Mr.Grace peeked his head out of the closet to look at the students. His eyebrows furrowed while theirs were high on their little heads. 

“Yes, that the only reason?” He questioned their motives. 

“Well, just cause the whole grade saw you and Ms.Whyen going to get lunch together.” 

“Hmm…” He tries to think of a way out of this. “We were just working on the science fair.” 

“Likely story.” Miles adds, tapping his little fingers on the desk like a detective in an interrogation. 

“Wha-?” The poor science teacher doesn’t have any more time before the students are adding more evidence to their case. 

“And you’re doing a project together!” One girl adds, raising her hands like it’s obvious. Some students nod in agreement. “Like! Obviously!”

“No, no. That’s for you. We wanted to put together a fair for the students.” He tries to continue finding what he needs but it’s hard with the harassment of 13 year olds. 

“Rekha said you guys would be really cute together!” One girl looks like she has stars in her eyes as she talks. Some other students agree with her all waiting for Mr.Grace’s answer.

“We’re friends.” Is all Mr.Grace says. Of course theres other reasons floating around in his head for the way he feels around you. He didn’t know that when he stopped by your door to ask for help last week that his feelings would move this fast. He didn’t know that his feelings would erupt into the mess he was in now. 

Figuratively and literally. He was standing in the middle of three boxes of homemade science equipment. 

“Or more than friends!” Another student adds.

He shakes his head, too tired to deal with this. 

When he finally saw what he was looking for he reached in a bit farther to grab it. He was six foot but still needed to inch in further on his tippy-toe to grab the tool. His Converse slipped and the pile of supplies he was leaning on came crashing down with him. 

“Mr.Grace! Are you okay?” Students pooled around him to help him up, some just laughed. His glasses were nowhere to be found, hair ruffled, and shoe lace untied.

“Alright, class.” Your voice could be heard over the clammer of the room. “Please sit back down.”

Mr.Grace stood up and you were able to get a full view of what had happened. 

He bowed his head like a dog who got whacked with a newspaper. As your students went to their desks you walked to the back of the room. 

He watched as you crossed your arms, he watched as your hips made your skirt sway, he listened as you heels clicked closer. And he prepared for you to raise your voice.

“Are you alright?” That wasn’t a raised voice. He unscrunches his nose at the difference. That was the sweet voice you used with kids in the halls. 

“Yeah.” He fixed his hair.

“Okay, find what you need?” 

He nods. “Sorry.” He looked at the floor bashfully, scratching the nape of his neck. “I… um- I was looking for this.” He held up what looked to be a homemade beer funnel. Gosh, you hadn’t seen one of those since college. 

“Come back after class to fix this please?”

He nods again. “Yeah of course, I’m sorry.” 

“No problem.” Your hand rests on the top of his bicep, giving him a reassuring squeeze. 

“I’ll um, I’ll get out of your hair.” He starts walking towards the front of the class, but before he can make it to the door he has to face the thirty kids who were taunting him earlier. 

One kid makes to kissing motions with his hands and another tilts his head at the equipment he has in his hands. 

He turns back to you and gives you a small smile before slipping out into the hallway.

“Alright kids.” You walk to the front of the class. “What happened?”

-

When the bell rings for the end of class he’s making his way right back through that door to do as you asked. 

“I’m sorry, again.” 

You smile. “Hm, It’s alright, I knew you were clumsy.” You get up from your chair and follow him to the back of the class. 

“Yeah, kind of a trait of mine.” His shoulders shrug before he’s bending down to pick up supplies and put them back on the shelves or in the boxes he has stashed in there. 

“My students told me all about it.” You help him by picking up a few supplies.

“Oh no.” He looks at you with somewhat of a terrified demeanor.

“Oh yeah. They like to harass you for some reason.” You laugh at him. 

“I don’t really know why.” He moves one of the boxes back into the closet. 

“Maybe it’s because you’re comfortable. They definitely wouldn’t be doing hat with a teacher that they’re scared of.”

His eyes light up a little at that. “Yeah, maybe.” 

The two of you share a silence. Not comfortable, but not quite the opposite. 

“So…” He starts. “You heard about everything?”

“Pretty much.” You kick your legs around as you sit on a students desk. 

“Hm.” He closes his second box and lifts it up to place on the first. You watch his biceps flex as he does, and his broad shoulders helping him with his motion. It’s not your fault he decided it was too hot for a sweater today, you’re just reaping the benefits.

“Kids are silly.” You smile at him, trying anything to make this less awkward. 

“Oh, yeah totally. We don’t need to listen to them. I don’t know how their little brains conjured that up anyways.” He thinks he’s going along with what you were trying to say. But the blush that works it’s way up his neck tells as different story than what’s coming out of his mouth. 

“Yeah, totally.” You stare at the floor, looking at some of the tools he has yet to pick up. 

He stands in front of you, arms crossed, head cocked to one side. “You alright?”

Your voice is small as you answer. “Yeah.” 

You know you’re lying. He knows you’re lying.

Both of you know what’s happening, neither one of you wants to admit it. 

“What were you looking for again?”

“Oh, one of my students is testing different ways to filter solutions. We made this tool where he can funnel the solutions through different materials.” 

“Oh interesting. Was that another late night project?” 

He grins, caught by your knowledge of him. “You know it.” 

You laugh at that. “When do you have time to sleep?”

“What are the summers for?” He still has that dorky grin on his face. 

You laugh once again. “Alright, you need a better sleep schedule. And maybe to learn how to tie your shoes.” 

He looks down at his converse with the laces tucked inside. “Who has the time for that?”

The two of you share another dip of silence. This one is completely comfortable as you watch him pack up the last of the boxes and shove them into anywhere they will fit. 

“Ta da!” He spins around to you with his hands up in the air. “Told you the doors would close.”

“It took you five minutes to shut them last time.” You snicker at him. 

“Hey, I got it done!” 

He stands a meter in front of you, fixing his button up and wiping his hands on his jeans. 

You hum. “Yes you did. Thank you.” 

“Ah, don’t thank me.” He scratches the nape of his neck as he walks closer. “Wouldn’t have to clean it up if I didn’t make a mess in the first place.” 

Now you have a clear moment to look at him, all tousled and messy and before 5th period. 

“Hey, where are your glasses?” 

“Oh.” He laughs at himself. “I lose them all the time. Don’t worry they’ll be back.” 

“Yeah, but can you see?” 

He thinks about that for a moment, not sure how to answer to someone who doesn’t wear prescription frames. 

“Well, like right now you’re a bit blurry.” One of his hands motions towards you as you jump off the desk. 

You take a step forward, maybe two feet. “How about now?” 

“There you are.” His voice is a bit gravely, maybe it’s how close you are or maybe he’s insanely sleep deprived, either way you couldn’t help the warmth it pooled low in your belly. 

You were less than a foot in front in him. Your nose was hit with the same aftershave that lingered in your car and the warmth that radiated off of him came to wrap itself around you.

Your eyes met his closely, not obscured by glass, for the first time. 

Something breaks between the two of you. The once sweet demeanor with a tinge sexual tension just replaced with pure stress.

“Thanks for cleaning up.” You clear your throat, stepping back. You motion to the ground, now rid of the supplies.

“Of course.” He stalks awkwardly behind you, following you to the front of the classroom. “See you at the PTA meeting later?” He asks before making his way to the door. 

“Yeah sounds good.” You give him an awkward thumbs up and he gives a nervous smile before slipping out into the hallway.

You look down at the hand that still has the thumb raised. Idiot.

-

At 4:30pm on the dot you walk into the conference room and see the dorky science teacher with a brownie in his mouth. 

“Hello Mr.Grace.” You speak in a friendly tone. “Oh you found your glasses!”

His words are muffled as he greets you. And you don’t know exactly what he says but then you look down to the tray of brownies.

“Ooo, did Betty’s mom make those?” Your eyes sparkle as you reach for one, thanking Mr.Grace for the napkin he hands you. 

“Yeah, she’s the best at brownies. I don’t know how she does it!” 

You nod your head, agreeing with him, and biting into the chocolate treat as you watch parents and teachers filter into the room. 

“You know I keep thinking about those slacks of yours.” You hear Mr.Grace next to you. His mind must have gotten jogged by the fact that this is the same exact spot that he had spilled the coffee last meeting. 

“You repaid me, remember?”

“I know… But-” He sounded like the universe was still on a tilt.

“No buts.” You try your best to give a reassuring smile given the awkwardness from earlier.

Most of the time he’s looking at you over the top of his glasses but his frames sit right on his nose bridge. His blue eyes in the center of the glass.

You don’t know if theres anything else to say and the thoughts racing around in your head cloud your mind from saying anything useful.

Thankfully he notices your hesitation and decides not to push further. “Alright.” 

When the lead teacher comes in to facilitate the meeting everyone finds a chair. You shake your head a bit, trying to locate a seat, as the room turns into a flurry of movement. Luckily Mr.Grace saves you a seat and the two of you share the notes you both wrote about the science fair. 

“Hello everyone. This might be a long meeting with everything we have on the docket tonight.” Ms.Christine speaks as she opens the notebook and laptop she brought in. 

First the group talks about clubs, part of you is surprised that Mr.Grace doesn’t have some science club to look after, but maybe he’s busy enough as it is. 

Then the science fair gets brought up and you sit up a little straighter in your seat. Mr.Grace answers most of the questions and a date is officially set for the PTA to come in and help. 

“Why can’t I be a judge?” One mom, sat across from you, crosses her arms. She’s wearing a fleece and running jacket with a high ponytail like she jogged here. 

“Well, you might have bias that would impede the results.” You try to be nice to her, break the very obvious reason to her like a kid in the hallway who doesn’t want to go to class. 

“That makes no sense.” She practically turns her nose up at you. 

“Well, if you were a judge you wouldn’t be able to vote for your child.“ Mr.Grace adds.

“It’s just one kid!” The blonde woman leans in towards the table. 

“But it isn’t fair to the others.” 

After a bit more back and forth she decides it’s not worth it. But the stare that you get for the rest of the meeting leaves chills in your bones.

Ms.Christine flips to another sheet of notes and brings up the Spring Fling.

Your eyes widen, completely distracted with the words. A dance!

“They’re making the poor middle schoolers have to go to these things too.” He leans in close to your ear.

“Hey! I’m sure there are plenty of middle schoolers who love it!” You whisper-yell back to him. 

He snickers at you, playfully punching your arm before sitting up straight again and doodling in his notebook. 

He doesn’t hear when Ms.Christine asks for volunteers to chaperone the dance but he does hear when you say his name. 

He turns to you with confusion, wondering why you had mentioned him but only receives a grin from you in response. 

“Thank you Ms.Whyen and Mr.Grace for being our first teacher chaperones.” Ms.Christine smiles at the two of you. “Would any parents like to volunteer as well?”

You don’t pay attention to the rest of the meeting. You can’t. Mr.Grace is drilling holes in your head with his stare. 

Now you have an angry parent staring at you and an angry teacher as well.

When the group finally wraps up and the room starts to empty out you stay seated. You don’t think it would be smart to try and run. 

“Do you need something?” You finally look over to the man, who does not look amused. You never really noticed his eyebrows before, but gosh do they look pretty when he’s frowning at you. 

“Why?!”

“Dances are fun!” You can’t help but smile. “Maybe you’ll have the time of your life. You never know~” Your elbow playfully hits his bicep.

“While I’m chaperoning a middle school dance?”

You groan. “What else would you rather be doing?”

He tries to think for a second before coming up empty handed. “I- Literally anything else!”

“You know… I’m still kind of salty about you spilling coffee on my pants-” you try not to snicker. “This would definitely help.”

He tries not to laugh at you. “Not cool.”

Your smile starts to fade and you lose sight of the picture in your mind of you and Mr.Grace dancing and drinking punch. “Okay, well I can get you out of it. I know Christine I can tell her I made a mistake.”

He almost nods to that, pleads with you to take his name out of the hat. But then he notices your eyes as you fold over your notebook and close your laptop. 

The grin you had on your face in the costume shop as you told him about the magical nights you spent at dances wasn’t something he wanted to take away from you.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

Your head whips over to him. “Yeah?” 

He nods. 

The smile on your face reappears ten-fold. “Yay! You’re going to have so much fun I promise!” You look almost giddy as you stand up out of your seat. 

“I’m only doing this for you.” Your heart beats just a bit faster at that. 

What you had imagined as soon as Ms.Christine brought up the Spring Fling races in your mind: Mr.Grace’s hand low on your back as he leads you into the gymnasium that’s strung with lights and streamers. The two of you keeping the punch safe and making sure kids follow the rules of the dance. Maybe you can drive him home again, or the two of you will stay late to clean up, who knows.

He groans. “I don’t even have a suit.” 

“Well, middle school dances aren’t that glamorous.” You shake your head. “You just need nice slacks and a button up, with a tie of course.”

He nods at that, now pressed on the matter of finding a tie. He doesn’t own a tie, he thinks they constrict his airway a bit too much. And he was never required to wear one in the labs he always worked in. “I need to buy a tie.”

“You don’t own a tie?” Your head tilts in question as you follow him out of the room. 

The two of you make your way back to the west wing. “No, never needed one.” 

“Well then you definitely need to go shopping.” You laugh. 

He wants to ask for you to join him, he’ll buy you new slacks and maybe you can shop for a dress as well but he decides it’s too much to ask when he doesn’t even know what to call you anymore.

Authors Note! ౨ৎ‧₊ . I hope you guys liked this chapter and are super excited for the dance! . ₊‧౨ৎ 

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“What do you mean oh no?” 

You joke. “It’s never a good sign when you say you’ve been thinking about something.” He mock grabs his chest in agony and you laugh. “I’m being serious, we’ve already bitten off more than we can chew at this point.”

“Um, I’m chewing just fine thank you.” 

“You think everything is a game.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” He practically whines. 

Part of his behavior makes you turn to look at him, standing tall with your hands on your hips, waiting for him to act out again. Like how you treat one of your middle school students that had a few too many sips of mom’s coffee and can’t sit still. 

“They need prizes.” 

Oh. They do need something to win. You start to think, realizing his idea isn’t actually bad.

“What were you thinking?”

“Well, we could make them something, like little sashes and crowns.” He shrugs. 

“Seriously? This isn’t prom.” You playfully mock his idea. He smiles and raises his eyebrows at you, before sitting on your desk. “Plus isn’t there an end of school dance coming up anyways?”

“Well, what do you think we should do?”

You walk around your classroom, straightening the desks and fixing the chairs. “Well, I think that the prom idea could work-”

You hear Ryland mumble under his breath. “It’s not really a prom idea.”

“But I don’t know if handmade prizes are gonna cut it. We’re definitely going to need to hit a store for crowns.”

“What are you doing on your lunch break?” He questions you with a tone that could only mean trouble. 

“Eating lunch.” You respond plainly with a smile. Your playful banter had gotten a bit stronger since the week of knowing each other. 

“How about we take a trip to find a tiara?” 

You eye him up and down. He’s sat on the edge of your desk, jeans ruffled at his hips and sweater pooling down onto the wood top, shirt loose on his lean frame. 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, taking a sip from his mug. 

Your lunch period couldn’t come any slower. You swear your heart beat got faster the closer the hour hand of the clock got to 12:00 pm. 

The thought of Mr.Grace in your car for the second time makes you nervous. The passenger seat is still set back farther than it was originally, from when he got in a needed room for his legs. And the window still has his little star he drew in the condensation that night. 

“Heya!” He peers into your classroom before waltzing in. “I did some research and there is a costume shop not far from here.” 

“Perfect!” You try to contain your anxiety, giving him a small smile before grabbing your bag and following him out into the hall. 

“Do you guys eat lunch together?” Rekha stood in front of the two of you. You were only twenty feet from the exit. So close.

Mr.Grace looks at you for help but you have nothing to say. You answered her question last time. 

“Well, we are working on the science fair right now.”

“Going out to eat lunch together is working?” She puts her hands on her hips and for a kid that’s barely four feet tall she can be pretty scary. 

A couple more students stop to listen to the conversation. You have your purse on your shoulder and Mr.Grace had grabbed a hoodie to pull over his button up, you were definitely leaving campus. 

“Aww!” One girl coos. “Are you dating?” Her little eyes light up at the thought and that’s when Mr.Grace places a hand on your upper back, gently pushing you through the small crowd.

“No, we’re working.” He responds. You mentally face palm, that’s not believable. 

When you two make it out of the school you make a bee-line for your car and make it out of the parking lot as fast as possible. 

“Wow, I forgot how daunting talking to middle schoolers can be.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Right.” He agrees. He places his arm on the middle console, leaning back in his chair and sighing. When his elbow bumps yours he pulls back. “Oh, my bad.” 

“No, y-you can have it.” You sit up a bit straighter and place both hands on your steering wheel. He quietly takes the space back. 

Mr.Grace gives the directions and within fifteen minutes you’re backing into a small parking spot. You turn to see out of your back window, placing a hand on the passenger seat for support. 

But when you place your hand on the seat you realize that because Mr.Grace moved the seat back, your hand ended up on his shoulder. 

You feel the muscle of his broad shoulder below his hoodie before realizing what you’re doing. “Sorry!” Your word is barely squeaked out as you look away from his gaze and try not to listen to the deep laugh he lets out. 

“This car is pretty small, huh?” You can’t help but nod, scared that if you open your mouth he’ll be met with more stuttering. 

It took a while for your car to lose his scent after the first time he sat there, now you’re going to have to drive home at the end of the day with the scent of his aftershave on the tip of your nose. 

When the two of you enter the costume store you’re immediately hit with the scent of cheap polyester and bad makeup. Part of you wants to turn around and run but Mr.Grace walks to a side of the store before you can give up. 

When you follow him over he’s found a firefighter costume. He holds it up to his chest, the entire costume fits his torso. “You think this would fit me?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Maybe if you were five.” 

“Darn it.” He hangs the costume back up. “They never make the cool costumes for the adults.”

The two of you walk around the back of the store, you’re searching for tiaras while Mr.Grace picks up every costume he finds cool and shows it to you. “This isn’t show and tell. We only get an hour lunch.” You check your watch. “We have ten more minutes in here.”

“Okay, serious time.” He makes some dorky face that you figure is supposed to look serious. 

“I think I like teaching middle school.”

“Random thought.” Mr.Grace quips.

You laugh. “I was just thinking about how I went into teaching to be a high school lit teacher.”

“Really?” He seems genuinely surprised. 

“Yeah, I loved writing in high school, it was always where I thought I’d end up again.” You shrug your shoulders, theres not much more to it. 

“You liked high school?” You watch his face contort. 

You let out a laugh at that. “You didn’t?”

“No! It was horrible!” He shakes his head, small tuffs of blonde hair swishing from one side to the other. 

“Well, you’re a nerd so that makes sense.” You quip. 

“Okay, being a part of the robotics team didn’t help and the president of the trivia heads also wasn’t a great decision for my societal ranking.” At the end of his sentence he’s basically talking to himself because you’re doubled over in a fit of laughter. 

“Oh my gosh!” You have to stop walking to try and catch your breath. “I can’t-” You laugh again. “I can’t breathe!” 

“Why do I tell you anything?” He can’t shake the grin on his face as he continues to walk down the aisle. 

“Trivia heads!” You repeat after him, only earning his ears a fit of more giggles. 

“I’ll have you know that I won my schools science fair three times in a row. And I was the president of the STEM Squad, our schools science club-”

“HA! STEM SQUAD!” You wipe away the tears at your eyes as you trail behind him. “Just stop, oh gosh, I get your point!” You smile up at him, letting your laughter fade away. “Okay, so high school sucked for you, point made.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you agree.”

“You know there were fun things about it too.” You jog back up to him as he enter a new aisle. 

“I can’t really recall any.” He shrugs. 

“Well, did you ever go to a dance?”

“Nope. Didn’t have anyone to go with.”

“What!” You stop in your tracts. “You never once went to a school dance?”

Mr.Grace stops a bit in front of you turning on the heels of his converse to meet your concerned gaze. He almost laughs at you, but the sweet worry of your tone feeds something else within him. “I never really wanted to.”

“Lies.” You shake your head at him. 

“I’m not lying.” His voice pitched up just a bit, not wanting to be caught. 

“Everyone wants to go to school dances. It’s like a law of nature.” 

That he laughs at. “It is not a law of nature. I’m a science teacher, trust me I know.” 

“No, it’s a law of societal nature! Everyone wants to fit in.” You nod your head at yourself, feeling confident in your hypothesis. 

Ryland squints his eyes at you, thinking over what you said. 

“Okay, I did want to go once.” He admits. 

“I knew it!” The two of you continue walking down the aisle. You touch the tool of dresses and the fake velvet of other costumes. “What happened?“

You watch as Mr.Grace fixes his glasses, looking straight ahead. “Well, um. In my freshman year the girl I wanted to go with… didn’t want to go with me.” He pauses to clear his throat, not that he needed to. “So from then on I decided that dances weren’t for me.”

“Aww.” You pout up at him. “I would’ve gone with you!” 

A smile is put back onto his face as he looks down at you and sees the sincerity behind your eyes. “You would have been in third grade so, I think that would’ve made it a bit worse.” He jokes.

For a moment you realize the age gap between the two of you. He’s been teaching for almost you don’t even know how long and you only just started. 

Before your mind can wander a bit too far Mr.Grace speaks up again. “I don’t know if high school would be the spot for you… Now at least.”

“Really?” You raise an eye brow. “And why’s that?”

Mr.Grace answers as the two of you walk into a different aisle. “You’re just so good with the younger kids. Eighth grade is where you’re meant to be.”

“You just don’t wanna let me go.” You make a playful jab at him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Eh, I was doing fine before you came along.” He jokes. 

“Oh really? And who helped you when you went through your units too fast and didn’t follow your lesson plan?” He smiles at that with nothing to say. “Exactly.”

As you two continue to walk side by side and look a the many costumes around you. 

Theres aliens, witches, astronauts, and oh princesses. 

You stop but the royal costumes, looking through to see if they sell crowns separately. 

“I dub thee.. an official night of the royal palace.” Mr.Grace uses a horrible old-English accent as he waves a fairy wand around and taps both your shoulders. 

“Excuse me?” You quirk an eyebrow at him. He has a gold crown on his head, leaning slightly to the right and a cheesy grin on his face. “I’m not a knight. I’m a queen.” You place the silver crown filled with fake gems on your head and smile up at him. 

“You know that means we’re married right?” His cheesy grin grows a bit more mischievous. 

You glance back up at his crown. “Maybe we’re from different kingdoms.” You turn back to the crowns and grab a smaller tiara for the student who comes in 3rd.

“No, no, no.” He shakes his head adamantly. “It can’t be. We’re both from Grover Cleveland Kingdom. And if I’m the king and you’re the Queen…” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you can’t help but scoff. 

“Okay, play time is over.” You swipe the crown off his head before he can stop you and make your way to the cashier. 

In the car ride back your mind couldn’t help but race back to the costume shop whenever you weren’t listening to your co-worker yap in your passenger seat. You knew it was just a joke, at least your brain did. But your mind, your imaginative and sometimes delusional mind, kept thinking he was flirting with you. 

“Hey, thanks for driving me.” He beams a thankful smile your way as he shuts your car door. 

“Of course, it’s kind of smart.” You talk about his prize ideas.

He playfully scoffs. “Kind of? You know you can just go ahead and compliment me.” 

You smile at his antics. “Hm.. Nope. Can’t do it.” 

His elbow gently hits your arms as the two of you walk back into the school. 

“Look! It’s Mr.Grace and Ms.Whyen!” You hear a pitchy little voice, that could only belong to Rekha, and before you can stop them all the kids on the field closest to the parking lot are looking at you two through the fence. 

Your brain thinks you should walk a bit faster, make sure the kids don’t see you two together for too long. But instead your cheeks blush and you look up at Mr.Grace with a giddy grin. 

His eyes peer down at you, you don’t notice how his fingers nervously plays with the plastic bag holding the crowns. 

But his smile matches yours, almost to say ‘oh kids’.

-

In your final class period you have a student who asks if you and Mr.Grace are friends.

“Yeah we’re friends.” You smile at the girl who asked. Finally the rumors can be stopped. 

But then, apparently out of no where, she raises her hand again. “Are you more than friends?” A devious little smile envelops her face and you can’t seem to get away from this rumor. 

“No,” You shake your head. “Mr.Grace and I are co-workers and friends, nothing more.” The class room seems to settle at that and you can get on with your lesson. 

Or so you thought…

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“It’s fine. They’re black, doesn’t matter.” You had gotten the slacks thrifting for $5 and if this whole ordeal got him to practically place a palm on your thigh you’ll take the trade. 

“Gosh, I’m so clumsy.” You watched as he shook his head to himself. 

“It’s no problem, really.” 

“Was it hot? Are you okay?” 

You smiled at the thought. “You didn’t get much sleep last night did you?”

He chuckles to himself, offering to pour you a mug which you happily accept. “Not really, had a couple ideas about some projects for some of my students.”

You coo at his love for his students as he gives you the coffee, having used one of his mugs with a science pun on it. 

You laugh, “Oh great, now everyone is gonna think I’m a nerd.” 

“Alright,” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll have you know that’s one of my favorite mugs.” 

“Aww,” You grin. “And you gave it to little ol’ me?” Your voice is laced with a sarcasm that makes his eyes want to roll at you all over again. 

“Next time I’m not pouring you coffee.” He jokes. 

“Thank gosh, someone’s gotta take that pot away from you.” You point at the wet spot on your slacks. “You can’t be trusted.” 

He just laughs at that, a blush teetering its way up to his face with embarrassment. 

The monthly meeting is nothing but boring jibber-jabber you never really understood why your school likes to know what everyone is doing but you come to them anyways, wanting to be a part of the community and all. 

Sitting across from Ryland in a meeting meant you were getting a front row seat to all of his silly faces. He would roll his eyes when someone said something gauche and would try not to laugh when the principal tried to get back on track (which never worked). During boring parts of the meeting your eyes would glance at his and he’d give an awkward smile before looking back at the teacher talking, knowing that he was caught looking at you again.

When your principal calls on you to share what your students are learning about you offer up the project that you and Mr.Grace have designed, feeling pretty proud your selves. 

Mr.Grace goes on a tangent, like always and by the end of the meeting when every teacher is closing their laptops, shutting their notepads and collecting their things, you’re sat very still, across from Mr.Grace. 

“What just happened?” His voice came off gravely, like a tragedy had just occurred. 

“Fuck.” You whispered to the rather empty room. 

“Language.” 

“Seriously!” You stand up, collecting your things. “We just agreed to host a science fair within two weeks and I can’t curse?” Your tone was dramatic and your body language was as well. But Mr.Grace seemed to be enjoying this. 

“We can do it!” 

“Do not do that whole, oh i’ll be optimistic so my partner isn’t as stressed thing. It never works.” You bring your hands to your hair. “You fell asleep at your desk yesterday! We cannot do this!” Your tone is stressed and your demeanor is dramatic but there is a happy hopefulness laced between your words. 

“Okay yeah, we’re kinda fudged.”

You don’t know whether to bring up the language used or to just ignore it but you can’t help but smile at his stupid vocabulary. “Fudged.” You laugh, mocking him. 

He scrunches his eyebrows at you, a flat smile plays on his lips. 

You can’t help but giggle. “You’re thirty-four and you say ‘fudged’.” You let out a loud laugh, slapping your thigh. This is exactly what you needed to ignore the shit storm that just landed on Cleve.

“I’m glad laughing at me always seems to distract you.” 

Your fit of laughter isn’t stopped when you see Mr.Grace’s unamused expression. “Okay, class time.” You say as you giggle your way out of the room. 

You hold your laptop and journal in your arm as you walk down the hall to the west wing. 

You hear Mr.Grace jog up behind you. “I think all we need to do is plan a day for this, get some judges and then tell the students to make their projects extra cool. It shouldn’t be too hard.” He questions himself towards the end of his sentence. 

“Yeah, that seems right. We could do it in the gymnasium.” 

He snaps his fingers. “Yes!” 

The two of you talk about some more logistics before reaching your respective rooms. 

You snicker to yourself as you turn into your classroom. “Fudged.” You say the word again to yourself, cascading through the doorway with small giggles. 

-

By the time it was lunch you were making your way across the hall flooded with students into Mr.Grace’s class. 

“Mr.Grace we need to talk abou-” You stoped in your tracks when you saw what a mess his room was. There was scientific equipment everywhere, and more than before. There were drawings and papers scattered across the entire room and there was even glitter in some places that glitter should not be. “Wow, and I thought my room was bad.”

“Yeah.” He rakes a hand through his hair, staring at the problem. He’s stood in the back of his class trying to shove extra equipment that students have made or he brought in, into the storage closet towards the back of his room. 

“Those doors won’t shut?” You place your notebook down on a desk littered with cutout pieces of god knows what and make your way to help him. 

“No, I’ve been trying forever.” 

“Lunch just started.”

“Time flies when you’re shoving things into a closet.” He shrugs.

“I’ve never heard that one before.” You grin at his quip.

He watches as you eye the situation. “I don’t think theres really anything you can do.”

“Well,” You open the doors a bit more. “Why don’t we use my closet as well?” You turn your head to him. 

“Really?” He looks at you like you’re his god-send. 

The two of you spend most of your lunch period moving equipment into your classroom closet, occasionally bumping into each other or grazing hands when passing things. 

“There, perfect.” You swipe your hands together before placing them on your hips. 

Mr.Grace grins over at you, very much appreciative of your help.

Then you tail behind him, back over to his class room as he tries his best to tidy up. 

“Can I buy you another pair?” It takes a moment for you to realize what he’s talking about.

“No, of course not.” You look down at your slacks, theres a small stain but nothing some baking soda won’t remedy. 

He sighs. “Tell me if you change your mind.” 

You say you wont’t and he tries to argue. “I appreciate it though.”

He sighs once again. “Maybe I could get you a good cup of coffee as a fix. None of that cheap break room stuff.” 

A date? Your heart beats the same way it did in the library. 

You nod your head before your mouth can catch up. “Um, yeah sure.” 

“Theres a new bakery a block away. I’ve been meaning to try it.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. 

“Oh? I didn’t know.” 

“Does after school work?”

Your eyes meet his as a little party of nerves starts up in your chest. “Yeah for sure.” 

-

The spring sun is still fairly high in the sky at 3:30pm. 

The walk was nice to say the least. Mr.Grace found himself on the outside of the sidewalk, “like a gentleman” he said. Your elbow would jab his bicep when he would make a crappy joke but your grin would smooth over the small amount of pain. 

“And I mean- not to mention the danger you put yourself in-” You continue your rant, trying to get the blonde to stop and tie his shoes for once. 

The man holds up his hands. “Hey! I’m not one of the kids in the hallway.”

“Oh?” Your wide eyes find his. “You know about that?”

“The fact that you are the honorary hall monitor in the west wing? Yeah.” He snickers at you. When you look at him with your confusion he adds on. “Well, I mean… It’s not like I’m watching you.”

“Oh, yeah no, of course.” You shake your head with a small smile, he noticed you. It feels dumb but the warmth you have in your chest is real.

“You know I tie my shoes in the morning, this just happens.” He points his hands down to his converse.

“How do you bike like that?”

“I just tuck ‘em in the shoes.” He bends down. “Like this.” 

You stand there, hands on your hips, looking down at the man shoving his mismatched shoe laces into his converse before you roll your eyes and continue walking. “That’s why Marcus can’t tie his shoes. You taught him this.”

“You mean Macky?” 

“Wait wait, wait. You call him Macky?” You sound exasperated. “I thought that was a nickname with the kids.” You shake your head as he laughs. “Honestly there are so many nicknames I can’t keep track.” 

“Eh, all my doin’.” He sounds like a proud papa. “I like giving names. It’s practically a right of passage at Cleve now.”

“No way! You’re the reason for all the nicknames? Because students just start going by them without any warning.”

He snickers at you before responding. “My bad.” He gives you a toothy grin as you put your hands on your hips. “When I started nicknaming science equipment it kind of just turned into nicknaming the kids too.”

“Okay because Marissa just started being called Marsey and I was so confused!” You laugh at the man next to you. “I can’t believe you.” 

“What? I did nothing wrong!” 

“No, no. It’s just that the nicknames and the science facts. And oh! And the equipment students would drag into my room. Oh and your mail being placed in my slot! And so many other things. And we’ve never gotten to know each other.” You don’t know if you were still talking to him at the end of the sentence or just talking to talk. Shaking your head at yourself you don’t see his pursed lips and drawn brow. 

“Yeah, I should’ve said hi.” 

When you look up at him you see the way his brows are ruffled and his eyes are a bit too focused on the pavement. “Oh gosh no. I’m sorry! I should’ve said hi too. It’s not your fault. I was just thinking about all of the things drawing us together for whatever reason. It’s like the invisible string theory you know?” 

His eyes light up at that. “Yeah. I love that theory.” For a scientist he’s really into myths and beliefs, he thinks of them as something that can drag him back down to earth when his head is stuck in the clouds. 

He wants to ask, Isn’t that theory about soulmates? but instead just smiles while you continue to rant.

“Sorry, it’s just so silly to think about.” You wave away your thoughts. 

He nods. “No, it’s definitely interesting.”

When the two of you reach the bakery you join a short line. You order your coffee and a muffin, a little after school treat for getting through the Thursday. 

But before you can get your card out of your wallet Mr.Grace is adding onto your order. 

Oh, maybe you’re paying for him too?

He finishes talking to the barista and is battling with his wallet to find dollar bills before you can think of what to do. “Oh you didn’t have to-”

“My treat. Remember?” 

Oh. Right.

When the barista asks for a name he says Grace. Of course.

The butterflies in your belly were flying wild as he stood next to you for your order. You watched as others place their order, forgetting to say iced or with a different milk and having to start all over again. 

“Thank you.” You squeak out the words as you look up at him. 

“Least I can do.” 

His name is called, your coffee is acquired and soon the two of you are on your way back into school. 

“You know, if you wanted we could grade together.” Mr.Grace bumps your arm with his. “I remember you saying how boring it was.” 

“Tonight? That would be great.” Your smile catches in his eyes and the couple more minutes walk to school he holds his chin just a bit higher. 

When you sip the coffee from your cup you tell him how amazing it is and he gladly tells you that you could make it a tradition for hard days. 

-

You bring a stack of papers into his classroom, choosing a student desk to sit at. Your muffin is perfect and your coffee is everything you need to get through the papers. 

“Alright, time to get cracking.” Mr. Grace walks into the room after using the restroom. 

You laugh at him. “How much do you have to do?”

“How do you say, a lot.”

“A shit ton?”

“Ms.Whyen!” 

You can’t help but cackle as he tsks you for cussing. 

“Not in my classroom!” He looks at the ceiling like the paper solar system is gonna smite him. 

When you can’t stop laughing he tells you to get to work, rolling his eyes with a slight grin. 

And when you look down at your stack of papers your upper body falls onto the table. “Ugh! How am I ever going to be able to read all of these!”

Mr.Grace points to your coffee that sat next to you and as you take a sip he speaks up. “You know, you could just not have them write.”

“What else am I supposed to have them do?” Your plain tone hits him funny and he can’t help but burst out laughing. “No, seriously I wanna know. If the english teacher isn’t going to have her kids write essays then what should I have them do?” You jokingly put your hands on your hips looking over at the teacher thats sat at his desk with his head thrown back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His laughs die down. “That was dumb.” He scoffs at himself.

You hum in response, nodding your head. 

Your warm eyes see his squinted ones. He thinks for a second you’re looking at the crows feet he has. But, you’re not. Just reveling in the fact that you can make him laugh like that. 

Theres some quiet work time between the two of you. Half an hour passes as paper ruffle and muffins are eaten. Glasses are taken off and hair is tied back. 

When your eyes glance up at Mr.Grace for the umpteenth time he’s leaning back in his chair looking at you. 

His eyes dart away, yours too. But your eyes find his again as blush creeps up both of your necks. 

“Are you done?” You tap your pen against the half stack of papers left. 

“Yup.” His hands are clasped behind his head, showing off his biceps that are barely hidden by his button up. 

“Wanna help me?” Your eyebrows jump just slightly and his smile widens. 

“You know, last time I asked for help with grading you said it was all on me.” His palm hit his chest. 

“Ugh! Mr.Grace. Please?” You bat your eyelashes at him. 

“Just because I’m a good friend.” He gets up from his seat and walks over to your table. “Unlike someone…” 

“Hey! Who drove you home yesterday?”

He holds up his hands before sitting down next to you. “Fair.”

You shuffle some papers giving him five and leaving seven for yourself. His body is completely un-proportionate with the table and chair. He’s too tall and broad to be sat so high up. But instead of complaining he shuffles a bit closer. 

“What am I looking for?” 

“Okay so these are just thesis’s and some hypothesis’s, right? So look for a good structure and question. Oh, and add some notes if they need some help. These are the last drafts of the outline so most of them should be okay.”

He nods at that. “Aye, aye, captain.” And then he’s set off using a pen from your pouch to write and underline on each page. 

For a moment you watch his hand movements. You see the red pen that looks normal in your hand look so small in his and the hair that is on the back of his hand that climbs up his forearms. 

You swallow, trying to distract yourself from being distracted. 

“Let’s race yeah?” His big grin isn’t something you can say no to. 

Soon you’re showing him the seven pages you got done before him. “Ha!”

“Hey! That’s not fair! It wasn’t even!” He whines. 

“Yeah and I had an extra page!” You argue. 

“Doesn't count.” He shakes his head. 

“What!?” You squeak and before you can argue some more he’s laughing at you. “Oh, you’re just messing with me.” You roll your eyes. 

Before he can make his laughter stop and respond to you, you talk first. 

“Alright. It’s gonna get dark soon.”  You laugh back at him, grabbing your things. “Such a sore loser.” You say to yourself as you leave his room. 

“Hey! I heard that!” He calls after you. 

You wave bye to him as you drive out of the parking lot, turning left. And he bikes out, turning right. 

The whole ride back to his apartment he thinks about the time you offered him a ride and said you lived close to him. Maybe you took a wrong turn, maybe you lied, but why would you do that? 

He’ll figure it out. 

Authors Note! ౨ৎ‧₊ . Thank you for all of the positive responses I love you all! . ₊‧౨ৎ 

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Cleary he didn’t try hard enough. “Nope.” You cross your arms, leaning back in your chair. 

“Please!“

“I think your exact words when I asked if that was a good idea were: “How hard can it be?” So, I think this is a you problem.” You point to the man in front of you who has just rolled his eyes. 

“Fine,” He stands up, placing his glasses back on. “But, when you find me in the morning slumped over that desk.” He points into his room. “Just know it’s your fault.” He says it with a humor attached, a light hearted joke. 

You can’t help but feel the nagging that you should help. But, when you look down at the stack of papers you still need to read you decide it really is his problem, he’s the science teacher after all. 

Later into the night you’re finally done with your leftover work and decide to pack up your bag. When you sit back down in your seat and check your phone for messages you turn your head to look into Mr.Grace’s room. He is quite literally slumped over his desk, glasses next to him, sweater pulled tight at his shoulders. 

Poor guy.

“Mr.Grace.” You whisper his name as you step into his room. He was still holding the pen he was using to write with, which you carefully pulled from his grasp. 

When you take the short stack of graded work out from under his arm he shuffles awake. 

“Morning.” You joke.

“Is it!?” He looks around before realizing. 

“No,” You huff a small laugh as you look him over. 

His tousled hair and sleep ridden voice catch your breath before you can answer his next question. “Is it late?” 

“Umm… No. I’m just heading home.” You check your watch. “It’s 7:00.” You look outside and see the sun is almost done setting. 

He runs a hand over his face, trying and failing to wake himself up. “Thanks for the wake up call.” He begins to collect his things. 

While he does you watch him. You don’t necessarily need to leave. And you would rather walk out with him anyways. 

Ever since getting closer with him you still haven’t been able to shake the crush. You couldn’t stop glancing at his lips as he talked to you, watching his biceps when he would pick something up or grab your snack from the vending machine, peering into his room when you hear him stretch and feasting your eyes on his lower stomach. 

“Hey, why don’t I drop you off?” You step closer to him as he grabs his keys.

“What?” He holds the door open for you before locking it.

“Just, because it’s dark and you shouldn’t be riding because… It’s unsafe.” 

He smiles at your offer. “I’ll be okay.” 

“No. Your bike can fit in my car. I’ll fold the back seats down.”

“You don’t have-”

“I’m gonna.” You used a soft but stern tone.

The walk out of the building was slow and as Ryland passed the janitor he waved him a goodbye. 

Maybe you should have helped him with his work, then the two of you wouldn’t have been here so late. Maybe when he came into your classroom he really was just asking for help but didn’t know how. Maybe you were being a bad friend-

“Thanks for all your help so far.” 

You practically had to shake your head to get out of your trance. “What?”

You looked up at him with confused eyes and he looked down you with ones filled with warmth. “Thank you.” He smiled. “You didn’t need to go long with everything that I threw your way but you did.” 

“Oh yeah, of course.” Your voice was shallow and small, but the warmth in his eyes welled up in your heart. 

“Can I ask a stupid question?”

“If I can ask you one.” You nod.

“Why’d you do it?” He clumsily opens the door for you. 

“Why’d I do it?” 

“Go along with everything, I mean.”

“Oh,“ You pause, trying to think of a reason that isn’t I’ve had a crush on you for the whole school year and this was the one way I saw us getting closer. You shrug your shoulders instead of answering. 

“No~ c’mon!” He grins at you, walking to his bike. “What’s the real reason?”

“You wanna know?” You let out a breath. “It’s kinda pathetic.”

“Pathetic? You? No.” He scoffs at you, not satirical, in a whole heartedly you could never be pathetic, I would never think of you like that, kind of way.

You huff a laugh. “I always noticed you. Since I got here and started working across the hall.” You take a breath before you continue, watching as he unlocks his bike. “And I don’t know, I never really talked to you about anything other than the weather.” Your shoulders are tight as your hands awkwardly fidget inside of your pockets. “I was able to make a couple acquaintances with some other teachers but nothing every really stuck.”

When he fumbles with his bike lock you decide to continue to fill the silence. 

“So, I guess I just wanted to get to know you better. I mean, I watch you in your classroom, you watch me in mine. We eat lunch across the hall, work across the hall, we practically live across the hall and have never before had a real relationship.”

When he finally finishes unlocking his bike he wheels it out of the bike parking. He stands in front of you, looking down into your eyes with his colorful quarter zip and his yellow raincoat. “Wow, that is pathetic.”

“Hey!” You playfully slap his arm as you turn around to your car. “I’m leaving you here.”

He laughs at that, jogging after you. “No, no. That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure sounded like it.” You start to have an edge to your voice that he might have noticed. 

“I should have talked to you about something other than the weather. I should’ve welcomed you when you first got here. I’m not the best when it comes to teacher relationships.” 

“Teacher relationships? Is that us?” You turn around to him, your car behind you and his nervous self in front. 

“I-” His eyes dart between yours, not sure which to focus on. He doesn’t want to say yes and maybe throw away the chance of being with you but he can’t really say no.

Then it happens. For once in the year you have been crushing on him, you finally get a sign. His gaze lingers just a second too long on your lips. He notices the chapstick you applied that smelled like apples and the way you pout slightly at him. 

You don’t say anything. You’re not sure if you can. Your little middle school crush finally gave you the slightest of signs. 

You feel like all you should do in this moment is go home and daydream about it and delusionize yourself some more. Maybe you can write it in your diary and tell your friend group about it out on the field tomorrow.

Your heart is filled with so much innocent love. And all from those blue eyes. 

“Sorry, got lost in thought.” He shakes his head with a small smile. “What started this?” He thinks for a short moment. “Oh! I was trying to thank you!” You snaps his fingers in victory. “I’m sorry, all I meant was to thank you for your help.” 

“Yeah of course.” You say for the second time. 

You were woozy off of the feeling of his gaze and he was flustered with his thoughts. This is gonna be a long end of semester.

It wasn’t too hard getting his bike into your trunk, thats why you love station wagons. And the ride was quiet, Ryland would give you directions every couple of minutes but other than that you sat with the radio on low and the tension between you bubbling up high. 

“And a left here.” He pointed, guiding you. “And I’m on the right.” 

“Oh, perfect.” You pull over and park right outside of a crappy apartment building. It’s an old brick structure with storm windows and a cute little front entrance. 

“It’s home.” He shrugs his shoulders as he sees you eyeing the thing. 

“Oh no it’s great!” You smile, feeling like you got caught. “I like it.”

The two of you sit like that for another moment. Hushed radio ads play in the background, the streets lights make funny shapes on your dash. 

It feels like right after a first date when you’ve been driven home but you don’t want the night to end.

“Sorry about calling us pathetic. I should have thought more about that.” 

“No, you’re fine. We are pathetic.” 

He gives you a half smile, enough to acknowledge he heard you. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.” Your voice is soft. 

“I’ve noticed you since you got there too.” He speaks to the dash of your car, not at you. “And I just never did anything. I don’t know if thats pathetic or just cowardly.” 

“You are neither of those things.” Your voice is still soft, the one you use with the children who drag their backpacks in the hallways. 

“I might be.”

“No. You did something.” 

His eyes slightly light up at that. “I did.” 

You laugh. “And now I’m stuck in this three week project with you.” It was lighthearted, a small jab at the man who did just say your relationship was pathetic. 

“Well, what are teacher friends for?” He smiles. 

Friends.

You don’t know whether to be angry or sad at his comment. But then the warmth you felt when he gazed at your lips bubbles up inside of you regardless. Your childlike love decides to win and you smile. 

When he gets out of the car and pulls his bike out of the trunk you roll the passenger window down to say bye. 

“Yeah, get home safe.” 

“I will.” 

When the door shuts behind him you get on your phone for directions home. You’ve all but doubled your commute, and at night no less. So worth it.

Authors Note! ౨ৎ‧₊ . Lowkey a short one but chapter 4 is gonna be lit!! Thank you for all the love and if you have any requests or ideas don't be afraid of my inbox! . ₊‧౨ৎ 

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Next chapter!

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"And exercise is good for you!" You thank him for holding the door open for you. "I bet you're the most active teacher here."

"You don't get out much?"

"Well, I like walks.” You brush your hair out of your face. 

He snaps his fingers together. "Ah! Yeah I've seen you walking around the field at lunch!”

You laugh and drop your shoulders. "I like to watch the kids." 

You hear him coo something sweet but it doesn't register.

-

When your free period hits you take the opportunity to grade papers at your desk. No granola bar, no open door, no music, just you and your red pen. 

When you hear a knock on your door you welcome them in, not looking up from the short essay in front of you. 

“Hey, busy?” You hear Mr.Grace whisper. 

“Um, not particularly.” You set down your pen after making one more correction. 

Mr.Grace taps on your door that he’s still half behind. “Wanna come introduce the lesson to my class?” He tilts his head at you. 

“Sure.” You smile and get up from your small swivel chair. 

“Okay, so I briefly told them about it so just emphasize what they’ll be doing in your class.” He briefs you before opening his class door for you and introducing you to the students. 

“Hello!” You take an opportunity to rake your eyes over the students. “I see a lot of my students in here.” You wave to a couple and then continue. 

“For the science report you’ll be graded on three things.” You hold up three fingers as the students nod. “One; writing a good thesis based on your hypothesis, two; writing a full page report, and three; having two quotes from two separate sources.”

“Can one of my sources be my dog?” One boy asks in the back of the class. 

“What is your dog going to say Henry?” You tilt your head with raised eyebrows. 

“Um… woof?” 

You shake your head. 

Another student raises their hand. “Can I make my report about pasta?” 

For that question you look over to Mr.Grace. 

“Well, what’s your hypothesis?” He asks the kid. 

“It’s yummy.” The kid smiles. 

“Well, that’s not actually a hypothesis, Trevor. That’s a conclusion. But, see me after class and we can work something out.” The kid nods at Mr.Grace’s answer. 

You answer some more quick questions from students before one lands a bit awkwardly. 

“Why are you and Mr.Grace working together now?” A girl in the middle of the class raised her hand. 

“Um, well…” You look to him for help but you see him already looking at you. “We decided that a project would be fun! Plus its the end of the year!” Hopefully that blows them off the scent of their science teacher not wanting to make a new lesson plan. 

“And also, Rekha, we’ve been across the hall from each other, and teach the same grade, so…” 

“So you have a lot in common?” The same girl ends Mr.Grace’s sentence. 

“Sure, let’s say that.” He finishes. 

You watch as Rekha turns around in her seat to whisper to two other girls that then look at you and Mr.Grace before giggling. 

After a couple more questions and a small goodbye, you leave him to teach the rest of his class. 

You have so much to do you almost forget to print out your lesson plan for the next class. What a waste of a free period.

When you notice theres only a couple more minutes of lunch you race to the printer. Before you can shuffle the papers in your hand neatly and prepare to copy them, you see Mr.Grace banging his fist on the poor old machine. 

“Um, I don’t think that helps.” You quip.

He lets out a stressed laugh at you. “I can’t get this darn thing to work.”

“Darn?” You make fun of his use of words as you step closer. 

“I don’t cuss.” He says it like it’s a badge of honor. 

“You know every student in this building does though right?” 

“Well, maybe they need a better roll model.” He smiles at you, letting the joke land a bit softer. 

“Hey, I never said I cuss in front of the students!”

He smiles at you. “So defensive.” He quips.

You roll your eyes at him, but your tight time frame is more important than your banter. “Here, let me help you with this. She likes me.”

“She likes you?” He questions your relationship to the ancient machine. 

“Hey, don’t doubt me.” He steps back and watches you press a couple buttons. “Okay, I need your help. You have to press the restart button on the back of the machine while I do this, okay?”

“Aye, aye captain.” He bends down and reaches for the back of the machine, slightly getting in your space. 

“Okay, now.” On your say he presses the button and you restart the system. 

When the two of you stand up a bit straighter the machine whirs to life. 

“Ah ha!” He throws his hands in the air. “You did it! Thank you, you’re my savior!”

Your back is against the machine as you stare up at him, “Um, yeah no problem.” He’s only about six inches away, grinning down at you. 

Part of you imagines him being so thankful that he cups your jaw for a kiss, stroking your cheek with his thumb and telling you that he always felt this way about you. 

Maybe he notices the way your eyes linger on his lips or the softness in your gaze but he doesn’t stop it. He takes a deep breath and when he swallows you watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. 

Your eyes dart around each other; his pink lips, his blue gaze, his messy blonde hair. His thoughts race at whether your lip gloss is the sticky kind or the sweet smooth kind that feels good on his lips when he pulls away. 

The school bell signaling that passing period had ended pulls you out of your trance. Your eyes widen. “Shoot I still need twenty copies!” 

Mr.Grace offers you to go first, knowing he’ll be extra late to his next class. His eyes linger on you as you scan your sheet and print out what you need before thanking him twice and running out of the teachers lounge. 

-

During lunch you find him in the teachers lounge again. This time he’s a lot less rushed as he sits on the couch, donated by parents, sipping coffee out of a mug with a horrible science pun on it. 

Your cheeks redden before you can stop them but you decide to greet him anyway. “Hi.” You smile. 

“Hey!“ He sits up a bit straighter as you walk into the room. “How are the reports coming along?” 

“The first ideas look pretty good. Scientific papers are new for them, but similar enough to the short essays, they’ll be fine.” You walk over to the vending machine and unwrap your crumpled dollar bills before straightening them out on the corner of the machine. 

“Yeah, well thats good.” He takes a sip of his coffee, peering at you over his lenses. “The projects are mayhem. Maybe you were right about having over thirty different projects all happening at once. My room is messier than before this all started.”

You laugh at him. “And that’s saying something.” 

“Hey! You’ve never even been in my classroom.” 

You spin around to face him. “Not true!” 

His eyes squint, “Okay, name one time.”

Some teachers glance at your little squabble but the couches are close enough to the vending machine you aren't being too loud.

“On my first day I came into school and said hi to you in the morning.” You raise your chin, clearly right. 

“Does that even count? I don’t remember this.” 

“Yeah, well you were busy grading papers or setting something up, I can’t remember. But you said hi with a half smile and that was it.” You shrugged your shoulders. 

You don’t know if your tone was sad, or if Ryland noticed a mood switch but he set down his coffee. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to brush you off.” 

“No! You’re fine.” You smile back at him. “I just figured you were one of those teachers who was here for the students but not for the other teachers.” 

"Is that why even though you've been across the hall from me for three years we never talk?" He didn't mean to sound accusatory, he almost sounded heartbroken. 

When you turn back around towards the machine you enter in your $3 and choose your snack of choice, this time it was goldfish. "I figured you thought I was a dopey young teacher who wasn't worth the trouble."

When the machine starts up you watch carefully as the spiral bars spin and your goldfish hits the last row of snacks before stopping. 

You let out an exasperated sigh as you look to the ceiling. 

“Really? Goldfish? Are you twelve?” He jabs at you, with a smirk. That effectively lightens the mood.

“Hey, they’re the snack that smiles back.” You give him a cheesy beam of a smile. 

“Alright, just sayin’, cheez-its are better.” 

“No way!“

He slips behind you, towards the machine, and pulls out his wallet. You look at the worn leather and old card slots and wonder how he's still able to use it without it falling apart.

"Watch and learn." He smirks as he enters his cash and pushes a couple buttons. His cheez-its fall directly into the tray and he's able to grab them.

But before he does you watch as he reaches in a little further and grabs your goldfish too.

"Thank you!" You practically jump for joy knowing you don't have to worry about your hand made sweater getting caught on that little slotted door again.

That happened about a month ago. It was the snag of the century and it took you forever to patch it.

He nervously laughs as he gives you the small snack bag. “Just returning the favor.”

“Oh? For the printer?” You question before he nods. 

“Yeah, that was great. So, thank you. I don’t know if I thanked you properly with us being all…” His sentence tapers off and you don’t know if he wanted to say busy, late, or if he’s thinking about you pressed up against the printer as he had peered down at you, soft hair falling towards his face, glasses askew. 

“No yeah of course.” 

He clears his throat. “She's tricky." He lightly taps on the glass. "'Been here longer than me."

"Woah." You sounded a bit like a little kid learning how old their parents are. 

"Hey." Ryland popped a cracker in his mouth with furrowed brows. "I'm not that old."

"How long have you been teaching here?" 

“Oh...” he looks anywhere but your eyes and you think it’s because he’s embarrassed to admit how old he is. 

But Ryland’s heartbeat isn’t about being older than you, that much is evident from the plush of your skin and the crows feet he has on the edge of his eyes. 

He’s worried about you realizing his doctorate degree. “I’ve been teaching at this middle school for only a couple years.” of course this is the only school he’s taught at but if he told you he started teaching at thirty-one then the questions would fly in all kinds of directions. 

"So... that would make you?" You wait for his response. "I'm not very good with guessing games Mr.Grace."

His breath stops in a short laugh before he rakes a hand through his hair. “Thirty-four.”

You took a breath, deciding it was better to smile than to jab him with another quip.

“What you’re only twenty-four or something?” He questions you but you’re too busy trying not to giggle. 

“No, no. I’m twenty-six.” You shake your head. “I held a receptionist job through my masters and a little longer afterwards, so this is my first year of teaching.”

“Why didn’t you go straight into being a teacher?”

“I couldn’t find a job I liked. After college I had student loans and needed good pay. I had to move all the way out here to get it.”

Something behind his eyes gleams at that. “So you’re not from the bay?”

“The bay?” You almost laugh at how easy it is for him to call it that. “No.” You shake your head.

You can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Well, I grew up here. If you’re ever lost. I’m your man.” He points his thumb in his direction in a dorky show of pride. 

“Well, I have a map on my phone but sure, I’ll make sure to give you a call when I’m in a dark alley.”

He laughs at that, settling back into your original conversation. “And you like it? Teaching I mean.”

“Yes.” You beam back a grin. Your mind can’t help but think of the eight year difference between the two of you. “But, are you serious about being thirty-four?”

Before you can even giggle Mr.Grace is dragging another hand through his hair. “It’s true.”

When you snicker at him he rolls his eyes. "You can make a joke." 

"No, no." He watches as a mischievous grin overtakes your pretty lips. "I just wouldn't have guessed." You eat a goldfish.

"Yeah, yeah."

"No really! You look like you're late twenties.” 

"C'mon just make a joke, you know you want to."

You shake your head. "Mm-mm."

"Alright." He smiles, waving you off before grabbing his mug to make the short trek back to his room. 

Before he can fully get out of the door you call over your shoulder. "So did you like ride dinosaurs to school when you were a kid?" You giggle. "What was it like inscribing clay tablets?" Before you can make another jab he's already in the hall. But you hear his faint laugh.

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He had models for anything and everything, all strung around his classroom, your favorite being the solar system he made himself. He had posters plastering every wall, and most importantly he had science equipment scattered across every horizontal surface. 

Keeping things tidy was not one of his strong suits. You knew this because of the way the collars of his shirts looked when he got into work in the morning, his glasses that hung off one ear, and the right cuff of his slacks still tucked into his socks so they don't rub on the chain of his bike. 

Part of you loved it. That part of you couldn't help but have a crush, and in a middle school no less, you felt like you were 13 again and should write in your notebook that he rocks your world. 

It was harmless. And having someone to admire at work made your 20 minute travel in your shitty old car with a broken stereo at 7am that much better.

-

You’ve volunteered on and off for the library the past couple months, mostly in the mornings before the chaos of school started. The schools librarian was old and often needs to take time off. So it’s good that Cleveland had you.

But, honestly you did it because you liked scanning books with the little laser gun. Plus it gave you extra time with the kids, you got to know what they were reading, what was interesting and what books they were choosing for their book reports that they would do in your class. 

You got a bit of extra cash on the side from the job. And who better than the humanities teacher to be the part-time librarian?

You were logging a new series of books into the machine as a teacher came up to your desk, tapping his finders idly along the vinyl. 

“Hi.” You greeted the teacher with a sweet smile. “How can I help you?” You set down your laser gun and looked up at the blonde. 

“Ms.Whyen, right? Pronounced like the letters Y and N?”

He must’ve remembered the introduction you made to the rest of the teachers at the beginning of the year, explaining how your name was pronounced. “Yup. That’s me.” 

The teacher pauses for a moment, not realizing how he should best move forward. “Well… I was just wondering-”

You stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. Your heart beat just a bit faster as you scanned his face, never really ever seeing him this close up. He was freshly shaven and his hair was just washed probably this morning. You wondered if he’s ever done anything to his eyebrows… they’re perfect.

“I was wondering if maybe you would want to-”

Go on a date?!

As your smile began to unfold the teacher cleared his throat, pushing up his glasses and standing up a bit straighter. “Can you help me find the science textbooks?”

“Oh.” Your face scrunched awkwardly. Of course he wasn’t going to ask you out, you’ve never had a conversation. “Oh! Of course.” You walk behind the counter to meet the teacher on the other side. “Right this way Mr.Grace.” Your smile was plastered on top of the awkward demeanor you felt deep in your bones. 

He followed behind you as you took him to a section of the library. “You know me?”

“We’re across the hall from each other.” You talk over your shoulder as he trails behind you. “We have been all year.” You add the last bit slightly quieter.

“Right. Right.” He snaps his fingers and hits his fist against his palm making a small cascade of little noises. 

Truth is he knew exactly who you were, but he couldn’t tell you that for whatever reason he held.

When he showed him all the books he thanked you and met you at the counter later with a small pile. 

“So how has your year been?” 

“Oh it’s been fantastic!” You smile. “What about yours?”

“Eh.” He holds up his hand twist git from side to side. “Kind of an emotional roller coaster.”

“Oh, well, maybe you’ll get a break this summer yeah?”

He smiled awkwardly, nodding along to whatever else you were saying. 

Truth is he already had these textbooks in his class. But he had lost his courage and needed an excuse. When you see the books in the return pile tomorrow morning you might be curious.

-

During your free period you would sit at your desk, eating your snack that you got from the vending machine that was hidden in a corner of the teachers lounge. 

You had just figured out how to work the machine so it stopped eating your crumpled dollar bills and giving you error messages. Now only if you could figure out how to make sure your snacks didn’t get stuck…

You'd keep your door open just in case your coworkers (or one in particular) walked by and needed to ask a question. Which rarely happened.

Part of you knew he didn't have a thing for you, or maybe he was still with that other girl he got into an argument with once over the phone..?

But you couldn't help yourself, your love life was so boring it would put your students to sleep. And day dreaming about the man across the hall wasn't hurting anyone.

You listened to his class during your free period too, always amazed about how much noise and laughter came out of his room. Being a new teacher was hard, but being a new teacher next to one fantastic science teacher that always left his students amazed by his knowledge was… tricky to say the least. 

You sat at your desk during lunch, granola bar in hand and your laptop propped open on your desk top.

You hear a slight knock on your door and find your classroom neighbor standing in the boundary between your room and the empty hallway. 

“What are your kids are learning about?" He leans his left shoulder against the doorframe and crosses one of his legs behind his other, trying his best to act cool.

"Sorry?" You cover your mouth as you chew the last of your granola bar.

"I was thinking we could team up." 

You tilt your head at the teacher in front of you. 

"Like they could do a project between both of our classes." Mr.Grace pushes off the doorframe when you motion for him to come in. “I did cross-class projects in my middle school.”

"Okay, well." You dust off your jeans as you stand up. "What kind of project?"

"See, thats why I need to know what they're learning about."

You laugh a little, adjusting your hair. "We're wrapping up writing non-fiction. Short essays and such." You pull out an assignment for today that you haven't given out yet. "See." When you point to the questions and the blank space for them to build a body paragraph you see the gears in his head start working.

"Okay, thats actually perfect."

"It is?" You question.

"What have they been writing about?"

"Whatever they want to research." You flip through some of today's turn-in box. "A lot about cats and dogs, food, someone wrote about their sister which seemed a bit odd, oh and apparently the students here really like you."

"Me?" He looks genuinely confused.

"Yeah, multiple wrote about science and quoted you as a source." You pull a couple papers out of the stack for him to read.

"Woah." He looks genuinely stunned. Like somehow he didn't know that the laughter and happiness that poured out of his room was because of him. “I did not consent to being on the record.” He jokes.

“They really like you.” You don’t notice the stars in your eyes as you look at him, but he does. 

He huffs a small laugh. 

"No I mean it. I see the way you engage your students. They come in here telling me all kinds of facts after listening to you.” You take a moment trying to think of what you were told just last period. “Like, a laser can get trapped in water." The last couple of words get a higher pitch as you question what you're saying, not knowing if the 13 year old was messing with you.

"Yeah, because of total internal reflection. Only really works with a jet of moving water though. Heavy water particles and such." He shrugs his shoulders.

You scoff at him. "You are so over qualified for this job." A small laugh escapes you. "I wouldn't be surprised if you had like a big fancy degree." 

Theres a short pause before Ryland continues. "So, about the project." He taps his fingers on the wood of your desk like how he grabbed your attention in the library. "How about, they research something in my class and they write about it in yours?"

"You really want to oversee thirty students with all kinds of different projects?"

“Yeah.” He scoffs and shrugs his shoulders that are draped in the zip-up hoodie he has on. “How hard can it be?”

You take a moment to think about the proposition. 

“Please?” He gives you a small smile as he holds his two palms together. 

“Why?” You don’t mean for it to be a rude comment but he never comes into your room and you’ve never had this long of a conversation with him. You can’t help but wonder if he has an ulterior motive. Especially after the events of this morning. 

“Okay, well we wrapped up the lesson on sound waves early and the lesson on the solar system even earlier than that. We have a solid three weeks where nothing is planned and creating a whole new lesson plan seems like too much.” He runs his hand through his hair. “And I think my brain will start melting if we watch Bill nye re-runs for three weeks.”

You laugh, you weren’t going to say no to him, even from the start. “Sounds good Mr.Grace." You smile at him, placing your hands on your hips.

"Is this where you eat lunch everyday?" 

For a second you're worried he's going to call you lonely or make fun of your measly granola bar. "Um, mostly.”

"Maybe I can stop by more often." The left side of his lips quirk up in a small smile and you agree with a quiet blush, not noticing his heart almost beating out of his chest.

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