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When Gregory walks into the staff room during lunch, he’s met with an overly enthusiastic Janine. Even more excited than she usually is. He’s reminded of the time she ran circles around him. She could always find a way to lift his mood, even without trying. As a smile breaks out on his face because of her bubbly mood, he catches her eyes across the room.
“Gregory! Take a look at this!” she exclaims, waving her arms so enthusiastically, she almost hits herself in the face. Adorable. She’s bent over a table. Jacob is standing next to her, focused on the contents spread out before him.
He walks over to them. After all, doing something is the easiest thing when she’s the one asking.
“Here, look.” She plucks a sheet of paper from the table and shoves it into his hands.
He eyes the paper. It’s a portrait. Of him.
When his gaze meets Janine’s expectant expression again, she grins: “It’s amazing, right?!”
“Janine, I didn’t know your drawing skills were this evolved.”
She laughs out loud. He doublechecks the portrait. Whose kid drew this? He then looks at the other drawings on the table before him. There’s a few of them there, different teachers with different Picasso faces meet his eye. He doesn’t spot one of Jacob, explaining the intense disappointment in his eyes.
“So, what’s the story here?” he asks her.
“Well,” Janine starts, beaming at the portrait of her. Pink lips. Just like the Marilyn Monroe dress she wore at Halloween. That look deserved a portrait on its own. “Zoe, a kid in my class, made drawings of her favourite teachers. She gave them to me this morning.”
“That’s sweet.”
“I know, right,” she boasts. She’s a bundle of sunshine.
“Wanna hang them up in our classrooms right now?” he proposes.
“Yes! Let’s do that.”
The next moment they’re making their way through the hallway with Janine carrying the portraits close to her chest. They pass Mr. Johnson, who raises his eyebrows knowingly, smiling, as if he knows something they don’t. Gregory’s classroom is first. After shifting around some of the exquisite kid drawings that cover all his walls (Gregory has gotten better at identifying the artworks with help of Janine), they find a place to put his portrait. It’s a great addition.
Next up is her classroom. Janine has a big bulletin board next to the door with a colourful collection of nails and pins that hold up all the posters, drawings, and signs on it. The bottom half is covered completely, the upper half less. Gregory imagines Janine climbing on top of a chair, reaching for some free brown space.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Janine interrupts Gregory’s imagination, “but the reason for putting most of it at the bottom is because of the kids. So they don’t have to crane their neck so much.”
She hands over her portrait to Gregory and reaches for the board to remove some of the pins, shifting posters around. Then she turns around to face him, pointing at the free spot she created. Proud.
“You can nail me here!”
A millisecond later, they’re both thinking the same thing. She freezes in pose for a moment, averting her eyes. Then jerks her hand back. Gregory just stares at her, struggling to process what she just said. The image of Janine climbing on top of a chair is officially erased from his mind. He’s trying to push its substitute away from his consciousness.
“Uh. The drawing of me, I mean,” she sputters, looking at him apologetically with a small smile.
Gregory clears his throat and does what he knows best: regain his composure. Or at least tries to.
“Yeah. Okay,” he replies. “The drawing of you.” Repeating her words to remind himself of the task at hand.
He steps forward to nail the portrait to the board, standing next to her. She’s watching closely. When he’s done, he looks down at her. Are her cheeks pink?
“Perfect,” she smiles, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Both of them hold each other’s gaze. A bit too long. The classroom grows smaller, her eyes bigger. Until she breaks the eye contact and looks at the board again. Gregory does too.
“It’s a great portrait,” he notes. “Looks like you’re Zoe’s muse.”
“You think I’m muse material?”
Gregory’s face automatically breaks out in a smile. He turns to face her, Janine’s smirk doing things to him he’d rather not say out loud. She’s cute.
“Well, you’re a great teacher. Your compassion and clumsiness would make great characteristics of anyone’s muse.”
“Yours as well?”
She holds his gaze. Is she flirting with him? She’s teasing him, but there’s something more. Something that he hasn’t noticed before. He grins at her. She doesn’t know that she should be careful. She doesn’t know what he’s told her when he watches from afar as she explains something to her students, walks to her car in the parking lot, sends out emails from behind her laptop. The moment she opens the door even a little, he will want to open it wide and take in everything she’s got to give him.
The space between them is buzzing. He could reach out and his hand could touch hers or travel up her arm, lock in her curls. He doesn’t. Instead, he answers her expression.
“You could be.”
He almost misses it, but he’s sure that her eyes grow the tiniest bit bigger. Her grin unmistakably grows wider. Maybe she doesn’t need to be careful. Maybe she knows exactly what she’s doing.
“You’ll have to share me with Zoe,” she teases. “We cannot disappoint her, of course.”
“Of course,” Gregory nods, pulling a serious face.
Janine beams up at him. It’s all he needs. Makes him wonder why he’s still trying to hide his feelings for her. Surely, one day, he will be able to put it down. To let his guard down. To tell her everything. Tell her about how her portrait looks in his imagination, right after he closes his eyes each evening. Tell her it’s similar to how she looks right now. Flush on her cheeks. Wide smile. Holding his gaze. It’s all he needs to keep him up at night.