It was 6:30 in the morning, and I was at school going over and over my plans and handouts to make sure I had not overlooked anything. There's nothing like waiting until you are faced with a class full of teenagers before realizing you have missed a step. I had five years of teaching experience with a much rougher set of kids than the ones who would walk through the door in an hour, but that did nothing to assuage the merciless knots in my stomach. I was the new teacher again. I would have to pull out my tough, take-no-bull facade in order to command the respect of my students, or I would not survive the week, much less the school year.

I could not help wondering if Daniel was as nervous as I was. He seemed so confident when I met him last week, but then again, I got the feeling that he had little to no teaching experience. Aracelle had poked around in his classroom on Friday afternoon and told us later that it looked like he had Nietzsche ready to go for his German II students that week. Who threw untranslated German philosophy at second years, much less during the first week of school? I anticipated that Judith and I would receive an influx of his students over the next couple of weeks.

Every teacher's schedule had been posted inside the workroom, and while slipping in to retrieve my mail, I paused and allowed my eyes to drift to Daniel's name. My memory readily consumed his schedule, especially noting his lunch and planning times. We shared lunch period, but he had planning first thing in the morning while mine was directly after lunch. I shrugged and hurried back to my classroom, mentally persuading myself that taking such an interest in his schedule was only to be expected of a colleague.

I glanced at the generic black and white clock on the wall as I dropped my mail in a basket. It was now 6:40. The kids would not start trickling in until 7:15 at least. I wearily slumped into my desk chair rubbing my temples and wishing I had just enjoyed another hour of sleep.

The sharp aroma of steamed coffee perked up my senses shortly before a cloud of warm vapor soothed my sinuses. Where my lesson plans had glared up at me on my desktop a second before, a cappuccino, croissant and mixed fruit presented on a pristine white ceramic table setting now waited. I glanced up in amazement at the lovely, masculine figure leaning casually against my desk beside me as if he had been there all morning.

"What's this?" I heard the incredulous surprise in my voice.

"My thoughts exactly," Daniel said. He was looking about my classroom with a furrowed brow and finally waved a careless hand toward my bulletin boards. "Is all that necessary?"

I frowned and followed his eyes to my arrangement of postcards, pictures and brochures from francophone countries I had visited which I had posted on a powder blue background. Granted, the Parisian poodle border I had added could probably be considered unnecessary. It was a little superfluous and cutesy for high school. I had left my other bulletin board largely unadorned, intending to reserve it for displaying the students' work, but I had lined it with pages from a French newspaper which I thought would make a fun background. I squirmed in my chair. Was Daniel making fun of me?

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Daniel gestured impatiently toward my walls. "Your wall décor. It's quite lovely, but I find American adolescents far too lazy and witless to merit so much effort."

"Ha! Taking a page out of Aracelle's book are we? You sound just like her. And you entered the teaching profession because…?"

Daniel turned to me and smiled. Well, it was more like a smirk. "That is a story for another time, Lazim." He gestured toward the steaming mug on my desk. "Your coffee is getting cold."

I rolled my eyes at his casual use of my birth name and set the frothy beverage to my lips. "Thanks for breakfast," I said, but looking up I found my classroom empty once more. I shook my head. "The kids are going to eat him alive," I murmured. I could have sworn I heard his laughter down the hall, as if in answer to my cheek.

Lazim. I shivered at the memory of his cultured voice forming the sounds of my Arabic name. You look far too exotic to be a Lucy Dawes. My hands automatically pulled open the top desk drawer where I had placed a compact mirror. I opened it and peered curiously at my reflection. My black hair lay in soft waves upon my shoulders and was partially pulled away from my face with a pink cloisonné barrette that matched my sweater. My complexion was not quite the copper of the Quileutes but was dark enough to set me apart from Caucasians. My eyes were obsidian, each iris hardly distinguishable from the pupil, but they were large and bright. "Bambi eyes" my mother had called them when she was alive. The discerning eye could see that my eyebrows were too thick, my eyes too round and my lips too full for me to be mistaken for a Native American. However, I had never considered myself exotic. The population where I grew up was too ethnically heterogeneous.

I suddenly realized what I was doing and shoved the mirror back in the drawer. Surely I was not already in danger? But the fact that a few words from Daniel Lewis had me gazing in wonderment at my reflection like a preteen did not bode well.

I glanced down at my picture-perfect breakfast. What could have possessed him to do it? A breakfast sandwich tossed inside a paper bag would have been just as welcome. It was a sweet gesture, but the possible implications made me uncomfortable. However, I was hungry and wouldn't put his efforts to waste. Just as the last bite of croissant disappeared, I heard Aracelle step into my room with an accented "good morning."

"What's with the room service, Lucy?" Aracelle gazed curiously at the empty plate and coffee mug.

"Um, well, Daniel thought I might need breakfast," I said. I watched in fascination as her eyebrows did a funny little dance over her wide eyes.

"Did he? Well…" She turned abruptly for the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

She turned, one hand resting on the door knob. "To get Judith. We both need to hear this."

"Oh good grief! Really?"

"Well, what else is going to happen today that will be worth talking about?" she demanded before heading to Judith's room.

I allowed my head to sink upon my desk. I really was not the gossiping type, but that has yet to mean anything to my colleagues.

"Hello? Is it okay that I come in?"

I looked up to see a waifish girl standing uncertainly at my door which Aracelle had left slightly ajar. She pushed a pair of wire-rimmed glasses further up her nose with a trembling hand. The sight of my first arriving student was a relief. I fully intended to be busy assisting that student when my colleagues returned.

"Yes!" I said a little too eagerly. "Bienvenue! Please come in. I have a seating chart, so if you give me your name we'll figure out where you belong."

And so began the first day of school. Neither Aracelle nor Judith made it to my room that morning to accost me. I imagined that they were prevented from doing so by their students. They were however able to intercept me before I made it out my door for lunch.

"Oh Lucy!" The tone of Aracelle's voice had me narrowing my eyes in suspicion. "Were you just about to head to lunch? I did not expect you would be hungry."

"Really?" Judith chimed in. "What did you have for breakfast this morning, Lucy?"

"You two are silly," I said as I slipped past them and out the door. I heard them follow, but I continued toward the teachers' lounge without waiting for them. "Why don't you just ask me what happened this morning?"

"Alright, what happened?" Judith asked.

"I'm not going to talk about it right now! It will be all over the school. I don't want to be the one the faculty constantly whispers about," I said.

"Too late!" Aracelle remarked almost gleefully.

"Why? What did I do?" I moaned.

Judith sped up to walk beside me and leaned towards my shoulder. "Nothing. It's just that you-know-who will not give anyone else the time of day."

I suddenly felt a little too warm as my pulse quickened. I entered the lounge with trepidation, my eyes darting to and fro in search of one person.

Aracelle waved her hand dismissively at me. "He's not here yet. Relax. And you will spill sooner or later."

I glared at her. She had made no effort to lower her voice, so several other teachers paused in conversation to look at us curiously. We were hardly close enough acquaintances for her to make such demands of me, but then I probably served as little more than a diversion for my colleagues. I sat heavily in a chair and pulled a rather banal sandwich out of my Vera Bradley lunch bag to nibble on. Between the food and the company, lunch thus far was quite a letdown after breakfast.

That was until a movement through the door's window caught my eye. It was the briefest flash of deep golden blond and brown, but it was enough to pull me from my chair and out the door without so much as a glance at anyone or anything else. When I left the lounge, the hall was empty, and I shook my head in confusion, wondering why I had felt the need to suddenly abandon my lunch in pursuit of a phantom. What was I planning to do if I met up with him anyway? Let loose a strand of incoherent monosyllabic babble, no doubt. I glanced back toward the lounge, contemplating an explanation for my sudden departure that wouldn't make me look like a silly girl with a crush.

Oh, dear. Was I a silly girl with a crush?

Lovely! My thoughts pricked at my brain in exasperation. It's the first day of school in a new district, and I'm meditating an unprofessional relationship with a colleague!

Then a cool hand gently took my elbow, and I was suddenly happy to leave my berating inner monologue as well as my convictions on the doorstep of the teachers' lounge. Whatever happened to willpower?

Daniel met my eyes with an impish grin as he guided me down the hall, and in the glow that spread through my being at the sight of it I had my answer.

"I did not think you would wish to remain in there when you could be enjoying my company," Daniel said.

I rolled my eyes. I may find him irresistible, but he certainly didn't need to know it! "Actually, I was very much enjoying the company of a ham-and-cheese when you flitted by."

"You didn't have to follow me."

"Who said I followed you?"

"You would if you were honest with yourself," he said. That superior simper adorned his face so well, I could not find it as irritating as I should. "Have you taken your lunch then?"

"More or less," I shrugged.

"Hmm, I shall assume the latter. Come with me." He took my arm and led me toward his classroom.

I could not help my heavy sigh. "You didn't."

"Did I not?"

I served the delectable looking spread on his desk and shook my head. "Why?"

"Why not, silly girl?"

I met his eyes with a sharp look as he held the door to his room open and gestured me inside. He raised a challenging eyebrow in turn. His smile broadened when he saw a smile brake through my stern gaze.

"You know, if you were anyone else, this would be extremely awkward and a little infuriating," I said.

"Indeed?" He followed me into the room. "Well, as you dine, you may amuse me by elaborating on why that is so."

I pulled a chair to the front of his desk as he reclined elegantly in his. "Actually, why don't you explain your sudden interest in feeding me?"

He shrugged. "You had intended to begin the day on an empty stomach, and your choice of sustenance for the midday meal was pitiful. I find that unacceptable."

I paused before I took a bite from the apple in my hand. "You'll have to forgive me, but I find your concern a little odd. Why have you singled me out, anyway?"

Daniel rested his well defined chin in his palm as he gazed at me unabashedly. I don't think I have ever met anyone so comfortable in his own skin.

"I suppose I can't help myself," he said with a sigh. "There must be something in the wretched air of this town."

"Thanks a lot." I punctuated that with a resounding crunch into my apple.

"Not at all. And seeing as how I cannot possibly trust you at this point in our relationship to feed yourself properly, I have no choice but to escort you to dinner this evening."

My apple slipped from my fingers and rolled under his desk. After the most subtle shift in Daniel's frame, he laid his ivory hand upon the desk, palm up and cradling the partially eaten fruit. All the while, his expectant eyes never left my face.

A feeling took hold of me just then. I remembered at that moment a walk I had taken in the forest the night before to calm my first-day-of-school jitters. The path had fallen to my feet naturally until it was broken by a large hemlock. I had contemplated which way to take for a while, fancying myself among the verses of my favorite Robert Frost poem. In the end, I had ended up turning back toward home. I regretted it later.