Beckett
DrivingElouise to and from work these past few days has become a routine I’m rather fond of. That and sharing her bed. And dinners. And every other waking moment together.
Since my truck’s been at the shop getting the windows replaced, I’ve just been staying at Elouise’s, bringing her to work in the morning, using her car during the day and picking her up in the evening. She hasn’t asked me to go back to Natasha’s place and I haven’t offered.
I know I can’t just move in. Not yet. Probably. At least not without asking. Though it’s very tempting.
Flipping on the turn signal, I pull into Darling Elementary’s parking lot.
Lucking out with a spot in the front corner, I put Elouise’s car into park and lay my head against the headrest.
There are lots of details we haven’t discussed – like where to go on the perfect vacation, who’s family we’ll spend Christmas with, or the best way to torment Clint when he starts dating – but none of that matters to me. I’m pushing 40 and I don’t want to waste another moment of my life waiting for “the right time” to take our relationship to the next level. We know each other. We’ve known each other for nearly our whole lives, and a few more months isn’t going to change how I feel about her.
Turning the car off, I suddenly don’t feel so depressed about returning her vehicle.
The guy over at Axel’s Bodyshop called earlier this morning, right after I dropped Elouise off at work – not 20 minutes ago – saying my truck was ready to be picked up. Part of me was tempted to delay the switch, but I have to run to my office downtown today and I don’t want to strand Elouise here if I run late. Or worse yet, have her take an Uber and get a ride from some stranger.
Walking into the building, my hand flexes around the car keys.
This overwhelming need to protect Elouise has only grown since we openly admitted our love for each other. And until I figure out who’s coming after me, I’m sure I’ll continue to feel an increased level of paranoia.
A handful of kids are milling around the hallways and a glance at the oversized clock above the principal’s door shows I have ten minutes before classes start.
There’s a sign asking all visitors to sign in, but the principal herself spots me through the window into her office and waves me through. She’s seen me enough by now to know why I’m here and her familiarity is one more boost to my confidence.
I belong here, in Elouise’s life. And just because I’m handing her back her car keys today doesn’t mean anything has to change.
Self-assured strides take me through the halls to Elouise’s classroom.
She’s sitting behind her desk, listening to a kid talk about something I can’t hear. Not wanting to interrupt, I lean against the doorframe. The room is about half full of students, but Elouise keeps her attention on the kid in front of her. She nods along with the story, smiling and nodding, eventually ending on a laugh when the kid finishes.
Her smile is just as genuine as she is and – not for the first time – I think how lucky these students are to have her.
I wait until the kid is back at his desk then I clear my throat.
Elouise hears me over the chatter of students and her gaze snaps over. Her smile immediately morphs into something meant for only me.
The kids all carry on as Elouise stands and walks over to me, “Hi.”
“Morning, Miss Hall.”
She shakes her head at me and gestures towards the hall. I make room for her to pass then follow her a few steps away from the door.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, smile still in place.
I hold up her car keys, “Returning these.” She opens her palm automatically and I set them in. “Just got the call my windows are done, and I need to head to the office, so I’ll drive my truck.”
“Guess that means our carpooling days are over,” she says it like she’s joking, but there’s a hint of sadness in her tone.
I don’t ever want her to be sad, but I’m a bit relieved to know I’m not the only one fond of our recent routine.
She left her hair down today, so I reach up and brush a lock back behind her ear. My hand pauses and she leans her cheek against my palm for a heartbeat.
“I’ll be your chauffeur anytime you want, Babe.”
I can feel her smile against my palm. “My knight in work boots.”
My fingers itch to pull her closer so I can seal my mouth over hers, but I’m aware we’re at her place of work. Filled with children.