The Undergrowth

Chapter 5: Double Double Toil and Trouble

I wake up early the following morning, to take a shower before the rest of the house is awake. I scurry as quickly as possible back to my room wearing my bathrobe and a towel on my head. I pull on a pair black jeggings and pair it with a black and white spotted blouse. I tackle my hair, blowing it dry then slide my feet into a pair of tan flats. I shove my laptop and sketchpad into my bag and grab a tan cardigan.

The rest of the house is quiet as I sneak out the front door. I forgo the coffee and opt to stop at Starbucks on the way in.

Once I'm parked outside the school, I head inside, bag and coffee in hand. Ms. Davidson was supposed to leave me her lesson plan with the guidance counselor. But the front office is still dark as I walk by. I wander down the halls, looking for the eighth grade wing, admiring the art on the walls as I go. I finally spot a door that reads 'Teacher's Lounge' and I push it open. It's empty except for a balding man sitting at a small round table reading the paper. He glances up to me but goes back to reading his paper.

"Hello," I say in greeting. He shuffles the paper, ignoring me. "Okay, then." I sit my bag down on a leather sofa and slip on my cardigan. I sit down and pull out my sketch book, sitting my coffee on the small table. I dig in my bag and come up with my favorite pen. I pop in my earbuds and start up audible. The smooth voice of Teddy Hamilton's voice plays in my ear, as my hand moves over the paper.

Art has always been my favorite pastime besides reading. Growing up, I either had a book or sketchpad in my hand. Now with the invention of audiobooks, I can do both. Most people journal to get out their feelings, I draw. Sometimes, I don't know what I'm going to draw until the pen hits paper. This is one of those mornings.

Teddy's low sensual voice describing the impure things Jagger is doing to Peyton, triggers the images on my page. Except it's not Jagger I'm drawing and that's not Peyton on his bed. Nope, that's definitely the tall, dark, and handsome man that played in my fantasy's last night.

Someone touchs my shoulder and I yelp, hiding my drawing and pulling my earbud from my ear.

"Morning," the mirage from my page is standing in front of me, rocking on his heels, with a huge grin on his face.

Oh god, did he see what I was drawing? Did he realize it was him? My skin burns hot and I want to sink into the floor.

He of course looks absolutely delicious. He's in slacks and a white button up shirt, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, holding a mug in his hand. He also smells like a fresh irish spring.

"Jesus, sneak up on someone much?"

He bellows a laugh and I squirm in my seat.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." I shove the sketch pad into my bag.

He cocks an eyebrow at me. "Sure seemed awfully intense to be nothing."

"It was nothing, okay." I push to my feet and toss my bag over my shoulder. "I have to go."

I walk past him, my head down. I'm almost at the door, when he calls my name.

"Amelia."

God, has anyone ever made my name sound so sexy? I stiffen, but don't turn around.

His scent envelops me, and I know he's right behind me. I slowly turn and meet his hazel eyes. He's still smiling, his eyes crinkled in the corners.

"Forgot your coffee." He holds my Starbucks cup out to me.

"Oh, right. Thanks." I take the cup, our fingers brushing for a second. It's like an eclectic current surges through me at that small touch.