when you deliver the coffee she left in the car because you're whipped

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It becomes almost part of my routine, running into her classroom. We get up, I make breakfast, we drive over to the school, she gets out and forgets her coffee, I have to run in after her.

But this is the first time I haven't caught up outside of her classroom. When I stop at the door, I make sure she's not already doing something before bumping the door open with my hip. A couple of the early students are here, but it's mostly empty. I walk over to her desk, where she's looking up at me from her papers, and plant the coffee in her hand.

"Left it in the car again," I say, faking disappointment and shaking my head. She pouts and I laugh, leaning forward to kiss her hair.

"Thanks, Haze," she calls as I take my leave.

"Who do you think that was?" It comes from one of the students.

"Maybe one of her friends?"

"A really close one, apparently."

I smile to myself on the drive home.

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