Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
“No problem. Anyone would have done it.”
“I think people would have been more likely to point and laugh than actually get down and help me, but I appreciate it all the same.”
We reached a set of restrooms, and he guided me into the women’s.
“Um…”
“Trust me on this. We’re both too early to be running into anyone. I promise.”
I followed his lead inside as he flicked on the light, making himself at home.
“Here, give me that shirt.” He waved for me like I was taking up too much of his time.
I set my laptop bag with the soaked papers on a nearby counter and stripped out of the shirt.
He mashed the button down on the side of the hand dryer.
I was skeptical about his approach, but he seemed confident enough that I just handed him the shirt without further questions. He maneuvered it carefully, the dryer going on far longer than I figured it should have, to the point where I realized it must’ve been broken. And he must’ve known that.
The wait was awkward as I glanced around the women’s restroom with my new friend, who was very diligent about his work.
He said something I couldn’t hear over the sound of the dryer before he mashed the button down again, stopping the sound.
“Did you say something?” I asked him.
His gaze caught mine again, and I felt like I had to plant my feet in place to keep from getting blown back by those eyes.
“No need to have anyone calling you Mr. Nipples on your first day.” As he smiled, I laughed with him.
It was true. I didn’t need anything else against me right then.
“Just be thankful the school isn’t up on maintenance,” he went on as I took my shirt from him.
“Fuck, it has fewer wrinkles than when I left the house.”
“Gonna have to watch that dirty mouth of yours when the kids get here,” he warned.
“Oh fuck. Yeah. I mean, you’re right.”
I was making a fool of myself. But for some reason, maybe because he was one of the first people I’d met at the school and he seemed so goddamn cool, I was really working to make a good impression.
He glanced me over once more. “How about your pants? Those good?”
“I think I can manage. These are certainly less offensive than kids seeing my areolas all day long.”
“Eh, they’re nice areolas,” he joked with a wink. “Just lucky that wasn’t a very heavy shirt. Otherwise, we could have been here for a while. Trust me. I’ve had to do this plenty of times before for the same reason.”
“Hopefully my pants will dry once I’ve walked around for a bit. You know, while I’m making other lesson arrangements for my classes than these soiled worksheets.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure out something.”
“I’m sorry. I’m being rude. I still didn’t catch your name.”
“Kyle.”
“James.” I extended my hand, and he took it. Between his firm handshake and the smile he offered, I really was glad the incident happened. I’d made a new friend, something I would be sorely lacking until I managed to push myself out of my shell and meet new people.
He glanced around the restroom for a moment, his expression turning tense, before saying, “I should go. I have to help my friend Ben over in the media center.”
Just like that, my excitement about having made a new friend dissolved. “Of course.” I reminded myself I’d likely see him in passing, when I could discover more about my morning hero.
“See you around,” he said with a nod, and was on his way.
I finished buttoning and tucking in my shirt.
My nervousness intensified, and I rechecked my shirt in my camera to ensure my nipples weren’t as visible as they had been after my fall. I had some dirt on it, but I doubted it would be all that noticeable. And Mr. Dirt sounded much better than Mr. Nipples.
I headed to the teachers’ lounge, made fresh copies of the worksheets I’d destroyed outside, then went about my business. My bad luck seemed to be confined to that morning, since as far as first days went, it wasn’t so bad.
I’d expected to bump into my rescuer again, but the longer I went without seeing him, the shittier I felt about all the questions left unasked—who he was, what he taught, or if he was an administrator or counselor. So many assumptions I’d made, simply because I’d been too disoriented after my blunder. But I’d get those answers once I saw him again and had a chance to properly thank him for helping me out.
By fourth period, I was feeling more in my element again, offering the class my spiel as we went over the syllabus. They seemed about as entertained as they could have been for their British Lit class, but I was confident that once we got into the books, I’d have a solid chance to win them over. I always managed to do that, if only because I treated them like people, not inferiors, the way teachers always seemed to treat me in high school.