I fold my hands in my lap and look out the window, out of fear that I might be blushing. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, but I don’t like it one bit. It feels wrong, so wrong.
It’s just the champagne, I remind myself again.
I straighten up when I notice that he drives right past our road. “Where are you going?” I point out the window, my eyes staying locked on the road that is fading in the distance.
“Grabbing some food. I left my dinner in the fryer at work, and I’m hungry. It’s on me,” he says matter-of-factly.
“No, uh uh,” I shake my head, “If you insist on getting food, I’ll buy my own. It hardly seems right that I’d allow you to spend your hard earned money on my dinner.”
“Goldmine, remember?” He turns abruptly at the road leading back into town, pulling into McDonalds.
It’s not like we have many options. A couple fast food joints, some high-end restaurants, and the pub. Redwood is pretty quaint. I’m starting to think that quaint is good. I find myself enjoying the small-town feel and the slow-paced lifestyle.
“What’ll it be?” He pulls into the drive-thru line.
“Just a cheeseburger and fries.” I’m really not hungry, but to appease him, I just go with it. I pull out my wallet and shuffle through a couple bills, pulling out a ten.
He places our order, asking for two separate bags. “Here,” I hand him the money, “I’m buying. It’s the least I can do for you driving me home.”
To my surprise, he doesn’t even argue. He hands the cashier the money, and a couple minutes later, the car is filled with the aroma of grease filled food, once again.
The awkward silence has me listening to each breath that I take. I reach over and turn up the volume on the stereo. Country music plays through the speakers, which grabs his attention.
“Country girl, huh?”
“Not really. I enjoy the music, but I certainly wouldn’t call myself a country girl.” I wouldn’t call myself a city girl either. I’m not really sure what I am. I grew up in a small town, but I never fit in. Now that I think of it, I never fit in much of anywhere.
We pull into the driveway of the main house, and Knox parks in my designated spot. He must have noticed. How could he not? It’s parked here day in and day out, aside from school hours.
I look over to Knox, whose eyes are fixated on his house. That’s when I catch his expression. Principal Burton is standing with her hands plastered on her hips and a mask of confusion all over her face.
“Great.” I sigh. “Knox I need a favor? I know that I have no right to ask—”
He cuts me off before I can finish. “I’ll tell her you weren’t feeling well. She doesn’t need to know.”
I grab the keys from the ignition and stuff them into my purse. Bundling up my food in my arms, I open the door.
“Thank you again.” I don’t even look over at him. This situation is already strange enough. I can feel his mom’s glare bore into my skin, without even looking.
I climb out and make my way down the path, avoiding making eye contact. I could go over and talk to her; I’m feeling pretty sober at this point. But, I’m sure the stench of alcohol still lingers. What the hell was I thinking letting Knox drive me home? This was so unprofessional of me, and I know exactly how it looks from the outside.
Or, maybe that’s because I know how I feel on the inside. No one can see that, though. The world is none the wiser that my student—a kid at that, had my heart skipping beats on more than one occasion tonight.
I plop down on the sofa and kick off my shoes. Reaching into the bag, I pull out my burger and my $10 bill falls out with it.
“He didn’t!” I say out loud, with a huge smile plastered on my face.
I definitely pegged Knox wrong.
So wrong.
I wake up the next morning before my alarm sounds. Two cups of coffee in, and I’m feeling ready to take on the day. I fill my large mug and slap the top on. Grabbing my bag, I give myself one more glance in the mirror. My hair tossed in a bun on the top of my head, makeup on point, and a black pencil skirt, with a matching blazer, has me feeling all sorts of sophisticated today.
I walk out the door ten minutes earlier than usual. Before I can even close the door behind me, I’m face to face with my neighbor—and boss.
“Principal Burton. Good morning,” I stutter, unsure of why she is at my doorstep.
A smile on her face calms my nerves, but I’m still not buying the pleasant aura she’s giving off. She’s here for a reason, and I think I know what that reason might be.
“Good morning, Claire. Please, call me Val. You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
Uh yeah, no kidding.
She continues, as I fidget with the strap of my black bag. “This isn’t a business drop-in; otherwise. I would have saved it for school hours.” She pauses. “I’m here because of my son.”
I take a deep breath, pinching my lips together and tasting the sweet cherry gloss on them. “Listen, I can explain. I wasn’t feeling well, and Knox offered to drive me home.”
She holds up a hand, stopping me from sticking my foot in my mouth any further. I choke it down and let her continue.
“This isn’t about Knox giving you a ride. He explained that, and I’m happy he was able to help you. I wanted to bring you this.” She hands me a large silver envelope.
“What’s this?” I ask in confusion, as I begin peeling it open.
“I’d like to invite you to my wedding in two weeks. Most of the staff will be there, so you’ll see some familiar faces. And, Zeke.”
“Oh, nice. Thank you very much, and congratulations.” I shake the envelope that still holds the invitation.
“Speaking of Zeke, Knox mentioned that you two had a date last night.”
“A date?” I spit. “Umm, I think Knox is mistaken.”
“Oh, you two weren’t together last night?” She appears puzzled, and I’m not sure where this is coming from or where it is going.
I know Knox said he wasn’t going to tell his mom about my drinking being the reason for the ride, at least that’s the way I took it. But, did he think that I was on a date with Zeke?
“Well, we were, but it wasn’t a date. What is this about?” I ask, suddenly feeling defensive that my personal life is being questioned here.
“I just want to give you a heads up. Zeke has had a bit of a hard time.” She looks around the property, as if she’s checking to make sure she can’t be overheard. “He lost his wife last summer, and his heart is still healing from that loss.”
Small-town gossip. There it is. It’s quaint, it's peaceful, but there will always be those who like to stir up the pasts of those who have made mistakes. I like to call them the drama whores. I would have never took Principal Burton to be one, but here we are.
“Oh?” That's all I can say. I may not like drama whores, but I never turn away an ear when they are talking.
“Robin Thorn was a wonderful woman. Her and Zeke fell in love shortly before she got sick. They married only weeks before her life was cut short.”
“Thorn? As in Axel Thorn?”
“Yes, Axel’s mom. Poor boy lost so much last year. It’s no wonder he behaves the way he does.”