Of Literature & Kisses (Forbidden Romance)

Chapter 18 - Frustratingly Selfless

He had gotten me a cup of coffee that I had transferred into my travel mug, sipping gingerly from it as he drove us out of the school parking lot. Quickly I drained the mug of its contents, since the teacher lounge cups were small enough to begin with.

I frowned at it, setting the mug down on his cup holder. "Do you teachers really get satisfied with the tiny coffee portions in the lounge?"

"I'm guessing you're out?" He turned to me quickly before looking back to the road, a smirk over his lips. "The teacher's lounge has tiny Keurig portions that fit into those cups, so if we wanted more we'd have to use more portions and pour them into our own, larger mugs. But no, not satisfied."

"They should just have a regular machine and skip out on so much waste."

"Yes, start a petition and I'd gladly sign."

Automatically my voice lowered. "I'm not supposed to know about the machines in there. I'm afraid I can't help."

"Ah," he sighed. "That's right. I'll have to start my own. Cece, would you like some more coffee?"

"Nearly always."

He chuckled softly, the sound making me smile.

"What about now?"

"Yes. I would." My heart started to quicken, thinking that maybe he'd stop for a cup in some drive-thru, adding to our time together.

"There's a little shop not too far from here. I like going every now and then to study or get work done."

I didn't notice he was still asking for my permission until he looked my way in the red light, calm blues eyes meeting mine expectantly.

"I'm looking forward to it," I smiled, the gesture coming naturally to my face.

***

We made it fairly quickly. It was a beautifully quaint coffee shop with an industrial setting of exposed brick and dim golden lightbulbs. I instantly settled softly into its lines, loving the coziness and privacy in its atmosphere. We sat at a small table by a stocked-up bookshelf, my eyes going momentarily to the spines.

"What's your favorite book?" Mr. Gallagher asked, crossing his arms on the table in that manner of his. He looked much too large and powerful, a rogue in professor's clothing.

I took a moment to think of the answer, until two titles popped clearly into my mind. "The answer to that changes every now and then depending on how I'm feeling, but usually it's The Scarlet Letter or Rebecca. I can't get enough of those two."

"Strong female protagonists," he considered. Then reached to my left and adeptly retrieved a book from a shelf. Rebecca.

"What is it about this one that draws you in?"

"Well, it's so fast-paced and perfectly mysterious. I think it's the British countryside and haunted glamor of the 1930s that takes me. And how determined the protagonist is to fight Rebecca's shadow, never letting her ghost ruin what she feels for her husband. Then the mystery of Rebecca herself, so strong even in absence. What?" I broke off. He was looking at me pointedly, an amused smile forming over his perfectly shaped lips.

"Nothing. Your eyes are gray, but right about now they seemed almost silver with the way they lit up." His observation took me by surprise, a soft flush of heat rising to my face. He cleared his throat, shifting in his chair.