A Heart of Gold

Chapter 5

It's just after noon and the taping is finished. Harry's crew had the equipment and dogs packed up quickly, and were now almost finished with the floor. The kids have gone home with their director's chairs and all is quiet again.

I float down the hallway to my classroom. Since I'm already here, I might as well put in a few hours. I sometimes do on a Saturday, just to have a quiet, uninterrupted stretch of time to work. I think I'll start with that box of books I've been tripping over all week. I scored big at a garage sale last weekend, but just haven't had time to get it unpacked.

Who am I kidding? I'm stacking books on my desk, but am really just dreaming of my morning with Harry. I want to relive each minute to make the memory permanent, before it evaporates into the atmosphere like the vibrant colors of a rainbow do when the showers stop.

I want to write it across the pages of my brain, like Lina might, starting with "Dear Diary," describing every detail of the way he looked. How it felt when he took my hand in his and vowing never to wash it again. Telling my future self about my best day ever, that every time his green eyes looked my way he was really trying to communicate his love for me, and writing 'Mrs. Harry Styles' over and over again in the margins with loopy script and framing it with pink hearts and doodles.

"It looks better naked."

I freeze, bent at the waist, leaning over my desk and clutching a book in my hand. Every cell in my body comes to attention at the sound of his voice. I slowly lift my head and my eyes meet his chest.

Harry has changed out of his flowered suit and into a yellow cotton Hawaiian shirt. The shirt, of course, is only held closed by two hard working buttons. Two buttons I'd like to send on a vacation. A ribbed, white tank top hides most of what I know is there, but those stubborn black swallows will not be contained, and the tips of their wings peek over the top. The gold cross rests in the valley between his pecs.

I hear him speaking but I cannot look away from his chest. I fight with my senses, willing my eyes to move to his face, but they will not comply. I'm positive my mouth is open, but it will not shut.

"My eyes are up here, Lynn." he teases in his low, slow drawl.

Completely mortified, I hear myself gasp in the quiet of the room and my hand flies to cover my gaping mouth. He laughs, and the sound zings like a lightning bolt around the inside of my head and then shoots straight down my spine. I stand up and look into his eyes.

"Wha... what's naked?" I stammer.

"Your face," he chuckles. "The frosting... you cleaned it off," he says, drawing a line across his cheek.

"Oh." I stare stupidly at him.

I cringe but he doesn't. His charm on in full force. He leans his shoulder against the door jamb and stuffs his hands in his front pockets. "I hope I'm not interrupting," he says with a smile. "Mrs. Matthews directed me to you."

Jane, I could kiss you.

I blink. "Yes... Jane. Of course, Harry. What, umm... what can I do for you?" I wave him into the room.

He pushes off the doorframe. "Well, I had an idea, and need your opinion," and he saunters toward me. "When production is finished for the video, possibly in a few weeks, I'd love to have a viewing party for your students and their families. But I'm unsure of the venue. Was hoping we could discuss it."

I realize we are standing awkwardly on either side of my desk, me still clutching the tattered paperback in my sweaty hand. I set the book down but hit my mug, knocking over my yarn-covered soup can pencil holder and sending pens and markers rolling all over my desk. I slap my desk all over with two hands, trying to stop them from rolling off the edge. I feel my face flush and glance up at him. That deadly smirk is starting to crawl up his cheek but when our eyes meet, he rolls his lips inward to try to stop it from spreading and kindly looks away, pretending not to notice my ridiculous situation.