Her lips part slightly. I can see her processing this, see the conflict playing across her face.
Before she can respond, there's a knock on the door.
"Everything okay in there?" Blake's voice comes through as he opens the door.
I clear my throat. "Yeah, we're good. Just discussing curriculum coordination between the English and History departments. Thought we could align some of our units, do some cross-disciplinary work."
"Oh, that's great," Blake says. "Really great idea. I'm heading out. See you tomorrow."
"See you," I call back. Mia waves, her smile hesitant but sincere.
We wait until his footsteps fade down the hallway. When I look at Mia again, the moment has shifted. Her walls are back up, but I can see the conflict still there in her eyes.
"We should probably grab coffee sometime," I say carefully. "As colleagues. Just to start fresh, you know? Get to know each other in a professional context."
She hesitates, and I can see her weighing the risks. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Probably not," I admit with a grin.
She takes a breath. "Okay. Coffee. As colleagues."
"As colleagues," I agree.
She leaves shortly after, and I'm left alone with the realization that I'm far more interested in Mia Wilson than I should be. More interested than is wise, especially since we work together. And especially with what she's going through with her sick father.
I gather my things and head down the hallway toward the parking lot. As I pass the administrative wing, I glance up toward the offices. Jack is standing at his window, looking down at the hallway. His expression is unreadable, but something about the way he's watching makes my stomach tighten.
I look away and keep walking.
8
BLAKE
I spot Mia through the window of her classroom during lunch period, hunched over her desk with a sandwich she hasn't touched and papers spread around her like a fortress. She's been here less than two weeks and already she's built walls so high I'm surprised she can see over them.
I knock on the doorframe. "Hey, you know we have a teachers' lounge for a reason, right?"
She looks up, startled, and I catch the flash of something vulnerable in those blue eyes before she masks it with a polite smile. "I have lesson planning to do. Trying to stay ahead of the curve."
"The coaching staff usually eats in the gym. Less gossip, better company." I lean against the doorframe, keeping my posture casual. "You're welcome to join us."
"That's really kind of you, but I should probably stay here." She gestures at the papers. "I'm still getting my bearings with the curriculum."
I nod, not pushing, but something about the way she won't quite meet my eyes tells me she's not avoiding the gym because of lesson plans. She's avoiding people. Avoiding questions and the whispers that follow her through the hallways.
"Offer stands if you change your mind," I say.
As I walk away, I glance back and see her staring at that untouched sandwich, her shoulders curved inward like she's trying to take up as little space as possible.
The rest of the day, I find myself thinking about her more than I should. During practice, while my players run drills, I catch myself wondering if she's still in that classroom. If she's eaten anything or just let that sandwich sit untouched.
Tuesday, I make a point to walk past her classroom between periods. She's there, talking to a student about an essay. Her face lights up when she discusses literature, animated in a way that totally transforms her face. The transformation is striking. This is who she is when she forgets to be guarded.
Wednesday, I see her in the hallway, and she actually smiles at me. It's small, tentative, but real. Progress.
Thursday, I notice Jack standing at his office window during lunch, his gaze fixed on something below. I follow his line of sight and realize he's watching Mia's classroom. The intensity in his expression makes my stomach tighten. That's not the look of a principal monitoring a new teacher. That's something else entirely.
I frown. I've never known Jack to react like that to a staff member. It's obvious, even from where I’m standing, that he's attracted to her. Jealousy, out of nowhere, pops up and rears its ugly head. I give myself a mental shake. I've got no businessbeing jealous. Still, the emotion remains, so I force myself to get back to work.