Nate steps back, probably regretting asking me to help him because I’m crazy and shakes his head. He reaches for a construction paper and bends it until it’s a fan.
“Here, use this.” I look at the device and nod, fanning myself.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
My heart is hammering as he looks around the supplies we have stored here. He grabs a pair of scissors and looks at me.
“Let me see if I can open it.”
I step aside and watch him fail at fitting the kid scissors in the thin space between the door and the frame. My heartbeat echoes in my ears as he frowns at me. I fan myself faster, but the paper is too thin to keep intact with the speed I’m using.
“Lizzy, it’s okay. Take a deep breath. Just one.” His hands land on my shoulders as he lowers himself again to look into my eyes. I follow his instruction, taking a deep breath.
“Good,” he praises me. “Now another breath.” He guides me, trying to talk me off the ledge. I close my eyes to avoid looking around the small space and tense when I feel his arms around me. “Keep going,” he whispers in my ear as his hand soothingly brushes the back of my head.
“We’ll be okay. Someone will come by soon,” he says quietly.
“Yeah,” I respond weakly.
“You’re safe, okay? The room is the same size it was before. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His words are a comforting blanket that help to calm my racing heart and shaky nerves.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“Better?” He leans his head back, but we’re still so close that his breath tickles the tip of my nose. I nod silently, enraptured by the layers of gold and brown in his eyes.
“Good.” He swallows thickly.
One of his hands moves to cradle my cheek, and I lean into the rough touch of his calloused hands and close my eyes. When I blink them open again, I swear he’s closer to me. My breath hitches for a different reason now. He tilts his head, every movement slow and deliberate.
The door swings open, and I jump back.
“Uhhh…” The art teacher stares at us with raised eyebrows.
“Oh my God, thank goodness!” I leap around Nate and into the hallway, gasping for air. “Freedom!” I call out before looking at them. “We got locked in,” I explain.
“Oh,” she says, not quite believing me.
I don’t know if I’m more shaken up about the panic of being locked in or the fact that it seemed like Nate was about to kiss me. Either way, I don’t have time to think it through because I hear my name over the loudspeaker paging me to get to my class and I curse.
“Need to go, sorry!” I breathlessly race down the stairs and toward my classroom.
My mind is reeling from what happened in the supply closet and my reaction to being stuck in there. Who knew I’d be such a mess in a situation like that?
“I’m here, sorry!” I tell the Spanish teacher, who looks annoyed as hell. “I got locked in the supply closet and couldn’t get out until someone opened the door.” No need to specify that I got stuck in there with Nate.
“Are you okay, Ms. Andrews?” A student asks with fearful eyes.
“I’m okay.” Thanks to Nate, but I keep that to myself. “All right, well, let’s, uh…get your science books.”
“I’m sorry again,” I tell the Spanish teacher who nods and leaves.
“Ms. A, we don’t have science now, we have social studies,” another student calls out on a giggle.
“Oh, yeah, that’s what I meant.” I’m a wreck as I walk around the classroom without really knowing what I’m doing because my body is somehow over in the supply room with Nate still embracing me as he stares into my eyes as if his life depended on it.
“Are you sick?” Stephanie calls out.
“No,” I shriek so loud and high-pitched that I’m surprised the windows don’t crack. “I’m fine, all fine.” I wave my hands in the air and search for the social studies plans to see what the hell I’m doing.