Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
But before I can even get to the front steps, a mom rolls down her SUV window and leans out. Perfect hair. Perfect nails. The kind of mom who brings Pinterest-level snacks to PTA meetings.
“Ms. Shaw!” she calls brightly. “Just saw your little TikTok with the hockey player. So cute. But maybe don’t let your love life become part of the lesson plan, hmm?”
She winks like she’s said something adorable and then peels off before I can think of a comeback.
My mouth sags open in disbelief as my face burns like I’ve been dunked in lava.
I glance around, but no one was close enough to hear that. I walk inside quickly, letting the door close behind me. I head straight for the teachers’ lounge, which is usually empty so close to the start of school. Everyone’s in their own classrooms getting ready for the day, and I need a minute to process.
I drop my bag on a chair, pull off my coat and take a deep breath.
People have opinions. I know that. But that was… pointed.
I sink onto a couch, pull out my phone and open TikTok.
Lucky’s post turned stitch-worthy public romantic declaration has over two million views. The comments are mostly positive.
Mostly.
But others are hard to swallow.
@FangirlFrenzy: I need a man who looks at me the way Lucky looks at her.
@AverageJoeIsThreatened: Guy’s doing the most just to win a TikTok challenge.
@MissConduct2020: Is it appropriate for a teacher to be broadcasting her dating life like this?
@StanForStacy: Lucky’s too good for her anyway.
I close the app. Not because I’m upset, okay, maybe a little, but mostly because I know how this works. You show something real, people think they get to vote on it.
I press the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. The prudent thing for all involved—Lucky, my family, my students and their parents—would be to stop this. It would definitely keep my heart and sanity safe.
But I don’t want to. Something about Lucky so publicly claiming he wants exclusivity has given me life. Sure, it’s turned my world upside down, but I have this swelling of excitement over the possibility of what could be. And it’s been a long damn time since I’ve felt that.
Last night plays in my head like a movie I can’t stop rewinding. Lucky ambushing me on TikTok with that ridiculous grin and his even more ridiculous “exclusive four-date challenge” should’ve made me roll my eyes.
Should’ve made me say no.
But it didn’t. Because when he rattled off that list—Sunday dinners and folding laundry and bringing me tea while I grade papers—something inside me cracked open. I still don’t know why I agreed to exclusive dating rights like I was signing a contract with the professional hockey league, but at the time, it felt right.
Easy.
I think part of me wanted someone to fight for me. And he did. On camera, no less.
And that kiss.
God, that kiss.
It wasn’t sweet or polite or even slow. It was heat and promise and the kind of connection that short-circuits rational thought. It made me want to do dirty things, and after that public declaration of his feelings, there’s a good chance he could have coaxed me into bed.
But he didn’t. He suggested a movie and we curled up on my couch. I tried to pay attention to it, but I barely remember what it was about. Buttermilk crawled onto his lap like some tiny benevolent gatekeeper, then proceeded to chew through the belt loop on his jeans while Lucky scratched behind his ears like a clueless rabbit dad.
We kissed again during the credits—longer, deeper, spicy in a way that made me wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t had to work today. When he finally left, he kissed me good-night like it mattered, and I stood there in the doorway for a full minute after, trying to figure out if I was still awake. Because it didn’t feel normal. It felt like the start of a fairy-tale romance and I don’t believe in those.
Or at least, I didn’t before yesterday.
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Lucky and my pulse skitters. Morning, Ms. Shaw. I’m thinking about last night. Specifically, the garlic bread. Also maybe your mouth. You okay? Internet can be dumb. Just say the word and I’ll go full defenseman in the comments.
So he saw the comments and he knows they probably aren’t landing well.
And holy hell… that was… panty-melting?
Thinking about me while at the same time offering to be my protector. I’m grinning ear to ear as I text back. You’re not allowed to talk about my mouth before 8 a.m. Also, I’m fine. Mildly scandalized by a PTA mom, but I’ll survive.
Three dots bounce in anticipation of a reply. Scandalized is a good look on you. Also, I promise you this—none of those people get to define you. I’d say more but… I need to save some charm for our next date.