Once You Cross That Line

By Leigh Donnelly

Kristi should spend her summer finding a new career and winning back her ex, Russ. She should not, under any circumstances, be flirting with her hot coworker, Ethan.

 

Kristi has a list of reasons she shouldn't cross that line: he's her coworker, they're just friends, she's still hung up on her ex. But the biggest reason that thin line needs to be a thick, impenetrable brick wall is that Ethan is one of her former students. Word about their relationship would be premier gossip in their sleepy small town. Nope, dating Ethan is not an option in any way, shape, or form.

 

No matter how much he flirts, no matter how many times they get stuck working in close quarters with their bodies bumping here and there, and no matter how many times his soft lips get oh so close to hers, she doesn't allow herself to give in. That is until one crazy summer night finds them literally stuck up a tree and running low on willpower.

 

Is Kristi dousing fuel all over her dumpster fire of a life, or will she finally figure out what she's been missing all along?

Don't miss this steamy, new adult, summer rom-com. A friends to lovers story complete with an HEA guaranteed to make you melt!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leigh Donnelly
• Release date: Sep 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9798201081218

Book preview

Who Knits a Fucking Tie?

The last fifty-two minutes of the school day was Kristi’s planning period. She was supposed to use the time to grade students’ work, enter grades, and get everything prepped and ready to go for the next fun-filled day of molding young minds. Some of the more senior teachers (her boyfriend Russ, included) did just that and found themselves strolling stress-free out the doors not long after the final bell had rung.

But for Kristi, that little bit of planning time was never enough. Her blue Toyota Yaris was always one of the last cars left in the faculty parking lot.

And yet the thought of staying an extra two to three hours still wasn’t enough to motivate her to get started on grading the leaning tower of essays on her desk. She wasn’t doom scrolling social media or doing any other mindless time-suck tasks. Mostly Kristi sat in a despondent daze.

She spent a few minutes doing mental math to determine approximately how many essays she’d already graded throughout her career, and how many she still had to grade in the next thirty years before she could retire. She came up with twenty thousand (give or take a few thousand) five times before she conceded that it was, sadly, the correct answer.

Occasionally she grabbed a chocolate chip cookie the snack bag student council had dropped off during third period in honor of teacher appreciation week. Halfway through her planning period she reached into the bag and blindly groped the plastic for way too long before she realized that she'd eaten them all. In her defense, they were absolutely delicious. The student council kids knew their way around a kitchen.

Kristi didn’t think much of her lack of motivation. It was early May and usually this was about the time when the entire school - not just the seniors - suffered from senioritis. A crippling mental condition where they already know what they’re doing after high school and go through the last few weeks of school on autopilot, not really caring about school or assignments anymore.

On top of that, there was one lone four-day stretch in April where the temperatures randomly hit highs in the upper 80s each day. It didn’t matter that it went right back down to the mid-60s. Once there was any hint of hot weather, everyone went into summer mode and it was damn near impossible to get anything done.

Her trance was broken when the bell rang to signal the end of the day. Kristi wanted to cry. She hadn’t done a thing during her planning period and she had probably consumed an entire day’s worth of calories from the cookies. She scooped the crumbs off her desk and grabbed an essay from the top of the stack.

The words were all a blur. It took every bit of energy she had to focus her eyes enough to read and comprehend each page of Austin Smith’s literary analysis of Hamlet. She went through the motions of correcting grammar and citations. The essay was bloody red with pen marks by the time she had finished. ​In a way it was fitting given the body count of the play.

Kristi was staring blankly at her next essay when her work roommate Autumn Carter returned from her last class. Autumn was a special education teacher who bounced around to different rooms throughout the day. Since she didn’t have a set classroom, Kristi offered to share her room with her. Autumn had a desk in the back and stored her cart of supplies there when she wasn’t using it.

Autumn had been named teacher of the year twice in the past five years. She probably would have won every year if admin would have allowed it. With her long auburn hair, purple glasses, and professional blouses that perfectly coordinated with whatever colorful pants she’d chosen for the day, she was the one Kristi tried - and often failed - to emulate.

Autumn awkwardly maneuvered her traveling cart into the room and then bounded towards Kristi. It’s teacher appreciation letter day! I got your mail on my way back up from seventh period; hope you don’t mind. I love reading these sweet letters from the kiddos. It always makes me cry, Autumn said as she handed a few papers to Kristi.

Yup. It’s the highlight of my year, too, Kristi replied as she took the letters. There were five. She couldn’t help but compare her five to the massive stack Autumn had already begun to read through at her desk on the other side of the room.

She knew it made sense that Autumn would have a larger fan base: She was the best teacher in the school. But even Kristi wasn’t convinced five letters for the 150 students she taught was a good sign. The first letter happened to be from Austin:

---

Miss Campbell,

You’re the funniest teacher I know. I love sitting in your class and laughing and laughing. You also help me with writing and stuff. You yell a lot, but I still think your cool.

Happy Teacher Appreciation Week,

Austin

---

She resisted the urge to put a red pen to the letter to correct Austin’s grammar. Autumn, on the other hand, was clutching a tissue as she turned the page of her student’s letter. One side just wasn’t enough to express all of the adoration the student felt for the beloved Autumn Carter. Kristi glanced back down at her letter. It was only half of a sheet and it had been ripped rather than carefully cut.

She didn’t need to read the last four to know they all said something similar. Kristi even agreed with them. She wasn’t changing lives. She was a mediocre teacher. While she wasn’t unkind to students, she also wasn’t going out of her way to develop strong relationships with any of them. She wasn’t coaching any teams, she wasn’t organizing clubs or events, and she wasn’t holding extra tutoring events on weekends or over the summers.

Defeated, Kristi got up and walked to the bathroom to stretch her legs and clear her mind. As she walked, she tried to remember everything she loved about her job. She tried to recall why she became a teacher to begin with. Actually, that part was kind of easy: she loved reading and writing. The idea of doing that and discussing it daily with students, for a living, had been an absolute dream to her. The reality, though, had been very different.

In the restroom, she stopped at the sink to look in the mirror. She was of average height and had long blonde hair. She wore it loose and let her natural waves take over rather than fight the straightener each morning. Her bright yellow dress contrasted against her dull-looking skin and drawn expression. This wasn’t just end-of-the-year exhaustion. It was her fifth year. She should have found her groove by now.

Kristi looked up at the writing over the mirror. She was in the students’ bathroom since the district encouraged teachers to use the students’ facilities to help keep an eye out for vaping and any other activities that didn't belong in a school bathroom. This year’s bathroom message was from Michael Jackson. Something about a mirror and a man. The words were painted on the wall with vibrant colors and in expert penmanship. Autumn’s club, the Positive Climate Committee, had spent the past summer painting that quote and similar messages and images throughout the school. Typical Autumn.

Kristi didn’t run a club. She tried for years to get one started. Last year’s attempt had been a knitting club, but no one showed. After two months she stopped promoting it and let it go. The next year Josh Grub had started the same club with raging success. Effortlessly attracting over a dozen students to the first meeting. Either Kristi had missed the knitting craze about to consume Willoughby High School, or she just wasn’t cut out for any of it.

She turned to head back to her classroom when she noticed Rachel, one of her students, standing in the doorway and looking at her uneasily. Are you okay, Miss C? They called her Miss C as if Campbell was just too much to remember. It drove Kristi crazy and she corrected the students the first half of the year. Then she gave up. She was tired of correcting people. Tired of deciding which battles were worth fighting and which weren’t.

Yes, Rachel. I’m fine, she responded with a smile she was sure looked forced and unnatural.

Oh, okay. You just look really depressed lately.

Damn. Kristi could always count on Rachel’s candor. No, no. I’m fine. Just thinking about what I’m teaching tomorrow.

Okay, Rachel responded. Kristi was about to end the conversation when Rachel added, You’re wearing two different shoes. Are you sure you’re okay?

Kristi looked down to see Rachel was right. She had two slightly different black flat shoes on. Of course Rachel would notice. See you tomorrow, Rachel.

Without waiting to hear what passive-aggressive or flat-out aggressive response Rachel had for her, Kristi hauled ass out of the restroom and almost ran into Josh, the health teacher and knitting club sponsor, in the hallway. He was walking out of the boys’ restroom and was enthusiastically greeted by the entire knitting club. Everyone was gushing over his new knitted sweater, hat, and tie. Who knits a fucking tie?! Kristi’s brain shouted to no one in particular. Kristi knew her face looked twisted as she jealously took in Josh’s perfectly knitted ensemble.

Hey, Miss Campbell. Check out this amazing stitch-work from my students. They’ve been secretly working on it since winter break. Can you believe they learned to knit only a few months ago and now they’re making personalized clothing items? I mean, look at these reverse stockinette stitches! Josh was beaming with pride and excitement. Also bursting were his colossal biceps. The club was meticulous. Just as his work shirts were always tight to the point of almost ripping open at the seams, so too was his new knit sweater.

Wow, Kristi said with genuine surprise. That is really amazing. Awesome job, you guys. That would have been enough, but Kristi couldn’t resist doing something more to show her encouragement. Unfortunately, all she came up with was an awkward double thumbs up with some sort of punching motioning. It didn’t matter. The students were too busy gushing their accolades at Josh, their fearless knitting leader, to notice her at all.

It’s all Mr. Grub. He’s an amazing teacher, said Ella Snover, one of the junior class officers. She wasn’t even looking at Kristi when she said it. Ella’s eyes were wide and intensely focused on the man adorned with the articles of clothing they all so lovingly knit. Finally, she turned to face Kristi. Next year, we’re going to knit hats, scarves, and gloves in our school colors: purple and black. We’ll sell them at the football and soccer games and donate all the money raised to the local food bank.

Wow, Kristi repeated with immense shame. How was she, an English teacher, unable to come up with anything beyond wow? How fortuitous Mr. Grub has such an exceptionally gifted ensemble of students in his club. Nope, that didn’t redeem her at all.

She almost mentioned that she’d had the same club the year before with zero participation, but no one was talking to her anymore. The group had migrated down the hallway to repeat the whole knitting show-and-tell for any teacher or student they passed on their way back to his classroom.

Kristi turned and walked back to her room thinking about how many students’ lives had been changed for the better because of Josh Grub. How effortless he made it all seem.

She vowed to do better. To sit at her desk and focus everything she had on providing meaningful and relevant feedback on the literary analysis essays. By the end of the day, she would have a new plan for a club and how she would promote it. Yes, this was the turning point in her career that she would look back on in years to come. The moment when everything changed for the better and she became the teacher she’d always wanted to be.

But when she opened the door to her room and caught sight of Autumn crying her tears of joy as she devoured her letters, something snapped inside. Kristi shut the door and turned to walk back down the hallway. On autopilot, she went down the steps, through the history wing, and into the main office.

Hi, Joyce. Is Paul in? Kristi asked.

Sure is. You can head in, Joyce replied without looking up from her screen. Kristi could just make out the faint sound of some light rock music coming from Joyce’s computer. She listened as she navigated the maze of desks that made up the front office area. It was Heartache Tonight by the Eagles.

Paul’s door was open, as always. His wide smile as she walked in almost made her turn around and change her mind. But it was too late for that. She had made her decision and with every step towards Paul’s office, she had felt relief instead of dread. The boulder on her back had been lifted and she couldn’t bear to bring it back down again.

Hi, Paul. Mind if I close the door for a quick chat?

Hey, Kristi. No, no, of course not. I’m going over the graduation plans one last time before we finalize everything. He made a few more notes as Kristi shut the door and took a seat. Okay, I’m all yours. What’s on your mind?

She opened her mouth to speak but then faltered when she spotted Paul’s hand-knit purple and black tie. Noticing her gaze on his tie, a twinkle of pride sparkled in Paul’s eyes and he carefully held up the end for her to see. Isn’t this amazing? Who knew we had such talented knitters in the school? Who knew high school students would even care about knitting? That Josh is something else. Everything he touches – academics, electives, clubs, sports – he just brings the best out in everyone. Paul reverently gazed down at his tie before continuing. Anyway, you were about to say?

I can’t work here anymore, Kristi blurted.

Paul was completely still except for a twitch of his mustache. Kristi wasn’t sure what to make of his reaction. I mean, not just here. I don’t want to teach at all. Anywhere. It was out and Kristi felt relief as every muscle in her body finally relaxed.

Paul nodded in understanding. Well, it’s not for everyone, that’s for sure. The average teacher stays in the profession for five years, and I think that’s about how long you’ve been here. He stroked his mustache as he regarded her and tried to assess if she was the average teacher he was referring to. You know May is not an easy time for teachers. The state testing, end-of-year exhaustion…Are you sure it’s not that? I’d hate to see you walk away from something you’re going to miss come fall.

Kristi nodded in agreement that May can be deceptively difficult for some teachers even though it’s so close to summer break. He had a point. But his response to her resignation was proof enough that she was making the right choice. I notice you’re not saying, ‘You’re one of the best teachers we have, and the students will be lost without you,’ Kristi replied.

Paul smiled. No, I won’t lie. Ouch. He could lie a little to spare her feelings. You’re right, you’re not one of the best teachers I’ve seen. But you’re not a bad teacher. Your students are learning, and you provide a safe and nurturing environment.

Thanks, Paul. And she meant it. He threw her a bone and she was grateful for it. But I’ve seen what the students can do with teachers like Autumn and Josh. And I’m miserable. I know it’s not a good fit for me. It’s causing me stress and misery. Kristi looked up from Paul’s desk and met his gaze. I won’t regret this. I’ll finish out the year, of course. I wanted to tell you as soon as I made my decision so you’d have time to find my replacement before next year.

Okay. Well, I appreciate you letting me know. Type up a formal resignation when you get a chance. Once you get that to HR, we can post your position. Kristi waited for Paul to say something else, but there was nothing. That was that.

She left his office and found her motivation to finish grading. The stack on her desk would be the last stack of Hamlet literary analysis essays she would ever grade. With each essay she tossed in the graded pile, her excitement grew. In years past she would finish and there would be a pit in her stomach knowing that there were more coming. Decades of Hamlet essays had been waiting for her red pen. But not anymore. She practically skipped across the empty parking lot.

Reality started to sink in again as Kristi pulled into the driveway of the house she rented with Russ, her boyfriend. She’d never even hinted to Russ that she had considered quitting. It wasn’t intentional. She hadn’t known herself until she had started to make her way to Paul’s office that day.

She’d also never complained about teaching to Russ. He was like Josh and Autumn and the millions of other amazing educators out there. No, she couldn’t tell Russ any of it. She had always been embarrassed to admit the struggles she had as a teacher. It had been her secret shame for the past five years.

Hi, honey. Sorry I’m so late today, she called out as she dropped her bag on the couch in the living room and made her way to the kitchen. To the right of the front door was the living room while the kitchen was to the left. A stairway separated the two spaces. Behind the kitchen was a dining room and behind the living room was the master bedroom. It was an odd layout, but they were just renting so it suited them fine.

Russ stood at the stove with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. He was clean-shaven and still in his work clothes: a polo with his school’s Lansky Lions logo on the chest and a pair of khakis. His light brown hair swooped down across his forehead, which was a good style for him given his receding hairline. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before returning to his pans. Russ taught U.S. History and was listening to one of Ken Burns’s many documentaries on PBS while he cooked.

That’s fine. Russ clicked off the TV. I love how devoted you are to your students. He took the last swig of his beer and threw the empty bottle into the recycling bin. Kristi reached into the fridge and popped open two new beers. She handed one to him and began to sip her own. She needed a beer after the day she’d had.

Kristi and Russ met in college and then both found positions at high schools in neighboring districts. Somehow their love had flourished despite the intense rivalry between their two schools. They’d talked about marriage and kids and mortgages. She had been sure Russ was going to propose last Christmas since they’d already been dating for six years. As her Uncle Jerry would say, it was time to piss or get off the pot.

Smells great, Kristi called as she made her way to the bedroom to get changed out of her work clothes. What is it?

Chicken fajitas for my little fajita.

Kristi laughed as she made her way back to the kitchen in yoga pants and a tank top. She pulled her hair back into a messy bun using the hairband she always wore on her wrist.

That doesn’t even make sense, she said before giving him a peck on the cheek and leaning against the wall to watch him work his culinary magic.

He had a large burn mark on his left forearm from a fireworks accident at his frat house their senior year of college. Kristi, one of only a handful of sober people at the party, had driven him to the ER. Even though Russ had been drunk, he hadn’t drank enough to fully dull the excruciating pain. To help him take his mind off of it, she’d told him all about her childhood and asked him questions about his. It was their not-so-cute meet cute and they’d been together ever since.

Unable to resist, she walked up behind him for a quick hug and a kiss to the back of his neck. He smelled like home and it was exactly what she needed. She finished her beer and inhaled deeply through her nose before continuing. I have some news.

Russ turned his back to the stove to face her. Let me guess, he said as he closed his eyes for effect. You were chosen to teach yearbook next year.

No, Kristi replied with thinly veiled annoyance as she popped the top of her second beer. She’d requested to teach yearbook for three years with no luck. Russ knew that was a sore spot with her.

Undeterred, Russ tried again with just as much enthusiasm and optimism. You pitched your idea for a multicultural club at school and it was instantly hailed as the newest ‘it’ club. She shook her head. Worried his dinner would burn, Russ opened his eyes again and went back to cooking chicken and sautéing vegetables in various pans on the stove.

Kristi took a long swig of her beer. She was borderline chugging before she mustered the courage to say, I quit.

Russ turned and studied her face trying to determine if her comment was some crazy joke. Then he shook his head in disgust. What is going on with you? It was an accusation as much as it was a question. He turned off the burners to give his undivided attention to her.

Kristi was taken aback and literally took a step back from him. Nothing. I just finally figured out what I want to do with my life. Sort of. I don’t actually know what I want to do with my life, but I do know I don’t want to teach anymore which is a huge step for me. Kristi reached out and rubbed Russ’s arm and felt the slight variation in the texture of his skin from the fireworks scar. She had the urge to pull him close, but she didn’t.

He shrugged her hand off. It’s not just about teaching. His gaze was intense. Like he was looking for something within her. When we first met I was dating someone. Do you remember that? Julia was home for the weekend at a wedding when we met at that party. You didn’t care whether I was dating someone or not. You saw what you wanted and didn’t stop till it was yours.

She remembered that. It wasn’t her finest moment to steal someone else’s boyfriend, but she had it bad for Russ. What does that have to do with me not teaching? Kristi finished