4

I sit cross-legged at the front of the classroom, holding up the colourful pages of The Very Hungry Caterpillar for all the children to see. Timmy and Dahlia, two of my more energetic students, are practically bouncing in their seats with excitement.

"Yes, Timmy?" I ask, smiling at the eager five-year-old.

"Miss Amelia, why is the caterpillar so hungry?" he asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Well," I begin, "the caterpillar is so hungry because he's getting ready to turn into a beautiful butterfly. Just like how you eat lots of food to grow big and strong!"

Ever since I started teaching kindergarten, I told the kids to call me Miss Amelia rather than Miss Brown. I wanted them to feel more comfortable around me, and since then, it hasn't changed.

Plus, Miss Brown just sounds plain Jane boring .

Dahlia's hand shoots up, and I call on her next. "Miss, why does the caterpillar eat all that stuff? It's yucky!"

I chuckle at her question. "Uh, well, the caterpillar eats all those things because he's preparing to build his cocoon. It might seem yucky to us, but it's just right for him!"

The children giggle, and I continue reading, the story captivating their young minds. Then, suddenly, I'm interrupted by the sound of the door opening. I glance up and am caught off guard when Mrs. Higgins enters the room, with Bradley Mitchell towering behind her.

I freeze, my heart skipping a beat, and stop reading instantly. The kids all turn to look in the direction I'm facing, their eyes widening with shock. A few let out audible gasps.

"Who's that?" one of the kids whispers loudly.

"Oh my gosh, it's the police!" another exclaims in shock. I raise a hand gently, trying to calm the room.

"It's okay, everyone," I say, forcing a smile.

Mrs. Higgins says, her voice cheery, "Amelia, sorry to interrupt, dear, but Officer Mitchell would like to have a word with you."

I stand up slowly, trying to compose myself. "Oh. Um, of course. Kindy, I'll be right back. Continue listening to the story with Mrs. Higgins."

I can hear the kids start to whisper and a low chorus of "ooo's" coming from the boys. I can't help but smile at their curiosity, even in a moment like this. As I walk toward Bradley, worry gnaws at my chest.

Why has he shown up unannounced? What could he possibly want to discuss with me?

My heart races as I notice him in his uniform, the crisp lines and polished badge. Stop, you foolish girl, before you get all flustered .

His towering figure commands attention, and I can't help but feel a rush of nerves.

Nerves now dance throughout my body, sending tingles down my back as I approach him. He nods toward the door, indicating for me to step outside with him. I follow him out into the hallway, the sounds of the classroom fading behind us.

"Amelia," he begins, his voice serious yet gentle. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to show up unannounced. Especially while you're at work."

"Oh, that's okay. This is the most exciting thing the kids have encountered all day today, most likely." I laugh. He doesn't. Don't be awkward, Amelia.

"Uh, so why are you here?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. "Oh my god, sorry, that came out so rude. What I meant to say was, do you normally check up on people like this? Sorry, I tend to ramble when I'm nervous. Sorry."

So much for not being awkward, loser.

A smirk appears on his mouth ever so slightly. Are my eyes deceiving me, or did Bradley Mitchell just smirk?

"You're nervous?" He says, his voice so, so deep. My goodness.

I feel my heart skip a beat, his words sending a jolt of electricity through me. "Y-yes," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. "You make me nervous, sorry."

That slight smirk remains on his face, yet his brows furrow, his eyes holding mine so intensely.

"You just apologised like four times," he drawls .

My eyes widen. Did I? Omg, how embarrassing. I blush furiously, feeling embarrassed at my nervousness.

"You don't need to apologise, Amelia," he says. "If anything, I should be the one apologising for showing up unannounced and making you nervous while you're at work."

His words catch me off guard, and I can feel my cheeks burning even hotter. I glance back at the classroom; I notice that all the children are watching us, their eyes wide with curiosity.

"Look, I… I just wanted to make sure you're okay after yesterday. And no, this isn't something I normally do. But something about yesterday... It just didn't sit right with me."

Oh. Oh.

It's not something he normally does? Yet he came here anyway to check up on me? Amelia, don't get your hopes up; the man is just polite.

I hear the kids chatter start picking up, so I look past Bradley's tall frame, and observe Mrs. Higgins trying to continue reading the story, but it's clear that the kids are more interested in what's happening over here.

"Uh, thank you, that's nice of you," I say, tearing my gaze away from the kids. "Again, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. It's just… unexpected, seeing you here."

"Amelia," he says sternly. "Stop apologising." His voice is gruff and so deep. Gosh.

"Yes, sir." Did I actually say that out loud? Omg why did I say that? What an absolute goose. His eyes widen for a split second, processing what I just said. I can see the gears turning in his head .

"That just came out," I huff out a shy laugh. "Do uh, do people call you that? … Sir?"

"Not really."

Just as I go to apologise again, I rethink my words.

"I don't mind it coming from you, though." His words catch me off guard; again, his voice is so low, yet loud enough for me to hear.

Did he... did he just flirt? With me? A kindergarten teacher with zero experience in the dating world. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. After all, Bradley Mitchell is just being polite. Right?

Still, I feel my cheeks flush at his words. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I don't even know what to say to that? Does he expect me to continue?

I have no idea what I'm doing.

He stares at me, his gaze searching my face, his dark blue eyes intense and piercing. They're not as bright as Xavier's, but they still hold a captivating quality that makes my heart race.

"So, you're holding up okay?" Bradley's voice is low and steady, cutting through the classroom's ambient noise. "If you're not, I want you to tell me. I understand if you're still feeling some shock from what happened."

"Yeah, I'm alright," I reply softly, managing a small smile. "It was scary, but I'm really thankful you were there. Honestly, thank you for checking in."

As I speak, I notice Bradley watching me intently, his brows furrowed slightly, his eyes scanning my face.

Does he believe me? The thought flickers through my mind, but seeing his concern makes me feel at ease, reassured by his genuine care.

"I promise, I'm okay," I add, meeting his gaze directly. Immediately, I see his features soften, a subtle relief crossing his expression.

"I'm glad to hear that," he murmurs, his voice gentle yet reassuring. "You know, you've got a lot of strength, Amelia. Not everyone handles situations like that as well as you have."

My pulse quickens at his unexpected compliment, his sincerity striking a chord deep within me.

"I should probably get going," he says, clearing his throat lightly.

I nod with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Oh, yes, of course. I'm sure you have more exciting things to do than be here," I tease, a small laugh escaping me.

"Not really," he replies softly, his gaze steady. "This is the most exciting thing I've seen all day."

His words catch me off guard, sending a rush of warmth through me.

Before I know it, he's guiding me back inside the classroom, with a hand at my back, and his touch sends a jolt of electricity through me.

Calm yourself, Amelia.

As we enter, the children's heads turn in unison, their eyes widening with curiosity. I can't help but smile at their innocent fascination.

"Alrighty, kindy, can we all say good afternoon to Officer Mitchell?" I prompt .

In a sweet chorus, they all chime, "Good afternoon, Officer Mitchell!"

Their voices fill the room with warmth, and I catch Bradley's small smirk as he acknowledges them. I glance away quickly, feeling my cheeks flush under his gaze.

He nods to the children before stepping out, Mrs. Higgins following closely behind. And just like that, he's gone again, leaving me with a lingering warmth and a smile that I can't seem to shake.

In an instant, the kids erupt into chatter and questions, all at once. "Who was that? What happened?"

I hush them and return to my seat, attempting to calm them down.

"Miss Amelia, is he your boyfriend?" Timmy asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yeah, are you going to marry him?" Dahlia chimes in, her voice filled with excitement.

"Do you like him?" another voice pipes up from the back.

"Oh, no! He's not my boyfriend," I reply, trying to hide the blush creeping up my face. "We're just friends."

"Is that why you're smiling?" Talia asks, her voice squeaky.

Dear God. This is exactly what I was just talking about.

"Guys, guys. Shhh!" I say, trying to remain calm. My heart is racing, and I can't believe I'm having this conversation with a bunch of five-year-olds. I glance at their eager faces, and despite the embarrassment, I can't help but smile at their innocence.

They make even the most awkward moments endearing.

As the bell rings for lunchtime, the kids pack up their things and say goodbye to me before running out the door, their laughter fading down the hallway.

My conversation with Bradley from earlier triggers a sense of déjà vu, unlocking a memory I thought I had buried. We were at a party at his place. He was drinking, and he said things to me... things I've tried so hard to forget. He almost kissed me that night, and since then, I've tried to bury that memory deep down, along with my stupid crush on him.

But now, seeing him again, that night is resurfacing. Does he remember? I don't think he does. He was intoxicated, after all. But surely, he must remember something?

Why would he? You're nothing to him now; you'll always just be his little sister's best friend.

As I gather my things and head to the staff room for lunch, I can't shake the unease that has settled in my stomach. Maybe it's just my imagination, or maybe it's something more.

Either way, I can't help but wonder.