I’m not going to say I’m this bombshell of a teacher, the kind that plagues every male’s fantasies. But I took pride in how I looked, I took care of myself and worked out every morning, wore outfits that looked professional but were still cute, and maintained a decent figure. I had had plenty of dates in my 32 years of life, even almost got married one time before. I had curly light brown hair that flowed to my shoulders, brown eyes, and olive skin.
All in all, I considered myself attractive without being conceited about it. Unfortunately, I remained spectacularly single. Meaning I couldn’t keep a guy no matter how hard I try. See, I have the absolute worst anxiety when it comes to men. I don’t know where it stems from, or why, but despite everything I do that is supposed to help it, the works out and confidence boosting outfits, my anxiety just never leaves. I’ve had plenty of suitors, single dads and co-workers mostly, but I always made it a point to not date within my bubble of of work because I didn’t want them to see me as the mental wreck that I am. Which made my initial attraction to Caleb even more worrisome.
“So where do you need me?” Caleb asked, his voice snapping me out of my thoughts. I pointed towards the smaller office desk on the back side of the classroom and finished my coffee. Much to my relief, the school bell rang, signaling the start of school and signaling my brain to get back into work mode.
The first day went a lot better than I expected. Caleb was extremely outgoing and social, making him almost instantly liked by the class. It was nice, to say the least, that I had someone to help redirect the kids. It meant I could focus more on the actual lesson and less on making sure the kids were behaving.
By the end of the week, Caleb had a secret class handshake with all of the kids, and I had somehow managed to stay professional. There was no denying I had an attraction to him, he was handsome and personable. But even though we talked often during the downtime, we managed to maintain a good level of professionalism.
Still, we took the time to know each other on a surface level. We were to be partners after all. By the end of that first week, I had learned that Caleb was a single father of a ten year old daughter, he was ex-Air Force, and he had just moved into our little town less than a year ago. In turn, he learned that I had a boat load of cousins in town, that I had never been more than 100 miles outside of town, and that I loved to cook.
The more I learned about him, the more he infected my thoughts when we weren’t together, and the more I became nervous to see him. The more I became nervous, the more I thought about him. It was a vicious, frustrating cycle that simply left me wanting more.
By the end of the second week we had exchanged numbers to communicate day plans easier. Week three, we were eating our lunches in the room together and swapping turns on buying coffees. Despite our good working relationship, we kept it as professional as possible. To the point where he never called me by first name, ever.
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