ALLIE

“I’m telling you,” Aimee says. “Just give him a chance.”

“I haven’t even seen him yet, let alone talked to him!” I argue, leaning against the bulletin board in my classroom. “I don’t even know his first name.”

“Ugh! Just trust me on this.” Aimee, better known as Miss Miller at Kentwood Prep, perches on the edge of my desk and stares out the window. “Here he comes. Here he is. Just look at that body. Please, just do it for me. Or should I say do him for me?”

“Stop, Aimee. We’re going to be co-workers!” I nudge her leg to the side as I make room to open my drawer. I ease a stack of papers inside just as Aimee spies an extra Tootsie Pop there. She swipes it, drops the wrapper in the trash, and pops it into her mouth while I retrieve a stack of colorful shapes.

“Come on, just look at that swagger,” Aimee says, slurping around her sucker. “He defines swagger.”

I make my way over toward the bulletin board and resume my stapling. “Not interested. Especially not interested in swagger. With swagger comes trouble.”

“How long has it been? Has it been so long you’ve become immune to good-looking men?”

“I don’t need to answer that.” I smash the stapler extra hard as I stick a balloon to the board. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“When did Ben break up with you? I’ll bet he was the last time you had an orgasm without batteries. Am I right?”

“I don’t remember.” Smash, smash, smash goes the stapler. “I forgot all about him.”

“Right. But your arm muscles haven’t. It looks like you’re harboring some anger, judging by the strength you’re using to staple those poor construction paper shapes to the board.” Aimee slides off the desk and comes over, resting a hand on my arm. “Lay off the bulletin board for now. You’re going to behead this balloon.”

Smash, smash, smash. “I am not.”

“Come over here and look.” Aimee tries unsuccessfully to drag me toward the window. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about the new teacher on the block? You know it’s all everyone’s going to be talking about.”

“Nope, not interested. I’m off men, and I’m definitely not going there with a co-worker.”

Aimee gives up trying to hold me back. Releasing my arm, she leaves me to pound my stapler as she strolls to the window and pretends to casually peer outside. “You might change your mind when you see this guy. He’s smoking hot and smart.”

“How do you know he’s smart? You’ve never talked to him.”

“He teaches math. To the eighth graders. Of course he’s got a brain.”

I sigh. “Aimee, please. Let it go.”

“What if he’s too smart? I didn’t think of that. You know the type—the one who can’t carry on a regular conversation?” She mulls on this for a moment, then wrinkles her nose. “Meh, I wouldn’t even care. With those lips, I wouldn’t need him to talk—much.”

I smash some cake-shaped cutouts decorated with my students’ names onto the board. The smashing is a little less violent this time around. “What’s his name again?”

“Cooper.”

“Mr. Cooper?”

“Sure, whatever. You’ll be on a first name basis with him in no time.”

“If you’re so into him, why don’t you date him?”

“Look at me, and look at you.”

I look between us. I’m extraordinarily average, while Aimee is tall and slender, dark-haired, green-eyed, and stunning. She’s funny and nice and smart to boot. Basically, she’s an amazing catch, and I’m...average.

“I’m confused,” I tell her. “What’s there not to like about you?”

“You’re all cute and cuddly, and I’m like...” She gestures wildly. “I’m all dark and dangerous and shit.”

“Mmmm...okay, then.”

I study my friend a second longer. She’s the music teacher at Kentwood Prep and plays in a band once a month at the local brewery. She thinks she’s tough. She’s also the only real friend I have besides Jack.

It’s wonderful to have Aimee as my friend, mostly because she’s female. That’s helpful, especially when talking about things like sex. I tell Jack just about everything, but I draw the line when it comes to certain topics.

See, sex and Jack Darcy are two topics that should go together without thinking, sort of like mustard and ketchup. If a woman’s looking for a smoking hot man who’s also got brains, well, Jack corners the market on both. Theoretically.

We’re too close for me to think of him that way. To me, the idea of sex and Jack Darcy together is more like... bratwurst and chocolate cake. Two equally delicious things that don’t quite go together. No matter how much I enjoy them both—separately.

“You have got to stop doing this!” Aimee’s lips pull together into a pout. “No, not the stapler pounding, but yes, that’s also giving me a headache,” she says, rubbing her forehead as I pull my arm back. “I’m talking about men.”

“I’m not talking about men.”

“If you’re not interested in Mr. Cooper, what about Jack?”

I shake my head. “We’re friends.”

“He’s all you talk about. Plus, he’s gorgeous.”

“I asked him out on a date, and he turned me down flat. I’m not begging him. Plus, whatever feelings I might’ve had for him faded a long time ago. We make better friends than we would anything else.”

“That was years ago, and it was the day after your wisdom teeth were pulled out. You were doped up on pain meds and looked like a chipmunk. He probably thinks you don’t remember that. Plus, you probably drooled all over him.”

“We are better as friends. He knows when I’m on my period. That’s not something you talk about with a potential love interest.”

“Fine, then what’s wrong with Mr. Cooper?” Aimee leans closer to the window, sighing as she rests her fingertips against the glass. “If he were into my type, I’d be all over that. It’s too bad I’m such a badass; I’d probably scare him away. That poor, sweet, innocent math teacher.”

“Aimee. You drive a pink VW beetle and eat sushi for lunch. I think he can handle that.”

Finally, I’m done attaching every loose article of paper onto the bulletin board, so I set the stapler down and sidle over to the window. Leaning next to Aimee, I follow her line of sight until I land on the target of her gaze.

Mr. Cooper. Math teacher. New guy on the block. Likely to be the object of every female teacher, student, and single parent.

“He’s not really my type,” I say. “He’s more Paul Walker than I like.”

“Paul Walker is everyone’s type.”

“He’s attractive; I’m not arguing with you, but—”

“Blue eyes? With that hair? Come on, you guys would have adorable babies. Their eyes would be the color of... I dunno, the sky or dolphins or sapphires. Whatever they say in your books.”

“First of all, my books are anyone’s books—you can call them romance. Second of all, he’s just not my type.”

“What is your type?”

I can’t help Jack Darcy’s face popping into my head. Where this new teacher errs on the prettier side of manliness, Jack is all severe lines and dark, hooded eyes. He’s more rugged in appearance, big and bold and steady.

It’s no wonder most women are intimidated by Jack: he’s an ice cube. A gorgeous, handsome icicle. It just so happens I like popsicles.

“Admit it,” Aimee says softly. “Cooper’s not Jack enough for you. I’m worried, Allie. As long as you hold a torch for your Mr. Darcy, you will never be able to enjoy someone else. It’s been years since your last boyfriend.”

“I’m not holding a torch for him; he’s my best friend.”

“Right. So, either make a move on him, or move on from him.”

“Nice wordplay. Have you been thinking of that all day?”

“All week, actually. I should be an English teacher.”

“Speaking of advice, I need to get going. I’m meeting Jack for our Romance Academy session.”

“What’s today’s lesson?”

“Rule Number Two: Back to the basics.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I’m taking him to the capital of romance.”

“Las Vegas?” Aimee squints at me. “Can I come with?”

I sigh and roll my eyes to the ceiling. “That’s not romantic. This is about romance, not lust or sex. We’re finding Jack a girlfriend. A woman he might want to marry. But you can come with us if you’d like. We’re headed to—”

We’re interrupted by a knock on the door. Sometime in the last few minutes, while Aimee had been filling my head with advice, we let our gazes out the window lapse. We stare at one another in terror.

There are only a few people here; the school is still mostly empty at this point since it’s a few weeks until classes start. Aimee and I only came early so we could share a bottle of wine while we decorated our classrooms.

“Hide the wine!” Aimee says. Then quieter. “Hide the bottle, Jenkins!”

I shove the cork in it, then roll the bottle dangerously under my desk just as the door opens, praying it doesn’t spring a leak.

“Holy shit,” Aimee moans. “It’s him.”

“No more wine for you,” I mumble to her as I straighten, focused on keeping my voice low and out of earshot from the man framed in the doorway. “Hi, there, can I help you?”

“I’m Matt Cooper,” he says in a low, gravelly voice, a smile hinting on his lips as he surveys us. “I’m the new math teacher, and I just wanted to swing by and introduce myself. It looks like we’re the only ones around here today.”

Aimee and I gawk at him. The awkward silence stretches longer and longer until Mr. Cooper’s face clouds with confusion.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says eventually, waving a hand to the new pizazz on the bulletin board. “I should be going. Your decorations look nice.”

“No!” Aimee blurts, even more awkwardly. “Don’t leave.”

She shoots a wild glance in my direction, but I just shrug. I’m not sure where she’s going with this, and I am perfectly fine leaving her out to dry.

“I’m mean...” she clears her throat. “Er...I mean, I just wanted to say hi.”

“That’s why I stopped by,” he says, a smile creasing around his eyes. “Anyway, most people call me Cooper, but you can use whatever you want.”

“Hello,” Aimee titters. Then in a whisper, she speaks into my ear. “I don’t know what the hell is happening to me.”

“I’m Allie,” I say, rolling my eyes as Aimee gives me a nudge forward. “Miss Jenkins during school hours. I teach Kindergarten.”

Cooper’s hand slides around mine as he gives a solid shake. “Pleasure.”

“Um...” My cheeks heat at the word, and suddenly I’m the awkward one. “Sure. Loads of pleasure. I mean, pleasuring to meet you...er, Aimee?”

“We’re very busy, sorry.” Aimee picks up the stapler and goes to work smashing it randomly against the bulletin board. “Catch ya later?”

Cooper nods, backs away carefully, and closes the door behind him.

Once his footsteps disappear, I let myself crumple into a child-sized chair while Aimee collapses on the desk.

“What the hell was that?” she asks, shoving a hand on her hip and looking mystified. “Did we really drink that much wine?”

“Shit! The wine. Did you see where the bottle rolled?”

“Why’d you roll the bottle?”

“I panicked. Multiple times. Then, he said pleasure, and I lost my cool. Who says pleasure all eerie like that?”

“Oh my gosh, we’re such idiots.” Aimee sprawls on the desk while I pull my backpack toward me and fluff it like a pillow on the table. “He’s going to think we’re freaks, now and forever.”

“First impressions aren’t everything,” I argue. “If you’re interested in him, maybe you should take the lesson plan I’ve prepared for Jack and apply Romance Academy to Matt Cooper.”

“Like you’re qualified to teach anti-awkward lessons, Miss Pleasure?”

The door, at that very word, cracks open. Mr. Cooper has returned, apparently to ask for directions to the restroom.

“That way.” Aimee points, her cheeks the color of rhubarb. “Just keep walking and you’ll find it.”

“Oh, no.” I let my hands rest over my face as Aimee turns to stare at me. “Do you think he heard the pleasure part?”

“Absolutely.” Aimee nods her head. “And then I gave him directions to the parking lot. Why can’t we think around him? The bathrooms are the other way.”

“I need to get out of here.” I stand, retrieve all of my things, and hoist my backpack to my shoulders. “I’m already late to meet Jack.”

“What’s lesson number two again?”

“Back to the basics.”

She grabs a pencil and scribbles it down onto a pad of paper. “Great. I’m coming with you. I need to see Miss Pleasure in action.”