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She hovers close to my back when I step onto the chair again and take the opposite end of the string. The corner of theAbites into my fingers as I wait for her reply.

“I don’t love physical contact with people outside of my closest friends. I’m not the touchy-feely type of person.”

“That was obvious, Frosty.”

She stares into the container of tacks in her hand, eyes cloudy. “I wasn’t raised around a lot of physical affection. It doesn’t come naturally to me.”

“That’s alright. You don’t have to want to be that type of person. I’m certainly not going to force you to be. I just want you to be comfortable with me because, obviously, Iama touchy-feely person. It’s second nature for me to reach for someone’s hand or hug them whenever I get the urge to, and sometimes I don’t always remember that not everyone is like that,” I explain, the backs of my eyes burning with guilt.

It’s a character flaw. I’ve tried to become more conscious of my actions, especially around those I don’t know all that well,but with Bryce, I kind of just act off impulse. It’s careless of me.

She moves then. I don’t see her come closer, but I feel it. The container of golden tacks shakes, and then a warm, steady hand closes around the one I have hanging at my side. My breath stalls in my throat as I slowly look down at where she’s standing, eyes no longer shadowed but clear.

“I don’t think I have boundaries with you,” she says, her voice the softest I’ve ever heard it. Almost like she’s trying to soothe me.

Before I can think too much into that, someone clears their throat. I wait for Bryce to yank her hand away, but she rubs her thumb along the back of mine instead.

“I knew something was off about you being at the school, but I can’t say that I expected to find this,” Darren says.

I opt to give him a thankful smile instead of waving, deciding not to release Bryce’s hand just yet. He needs to believe what he’s about to learn.

“Did you bring everything?” Bryce asks.

“Yes, your majesty.” He examines the room and the mess that was left for me and frowns. “Someone had a good time in here.”

“I’m glad they enjoyed themselves, at least,” I say, keeping my tone light despite my strong displeasure with the state of my first classroom.

Bryce scoffs. “I’m not. Whoever did this is a bunch of fucking assholes.”

“They were probably just kids looking to have fun,” I argue gently.

She snaps her eyes to me, clearly frustrated. “If they’re old enough to break into a school and vandalize it, then they’re old enough to know better.”

“She’s right. Even Abbie knows better than to do something like this,” Darren says.

My exhale is far too heavy. They’re valid points, but it feels wrong of me to be angry with a bunch of children for somethingI’m capable of fixing. Maybe that makes me a pushover. I don’t know.

I flex my fingers, and Bryce releases them before handing me a tack. Stabbing it through theAand into the wall above the whiteboard, I say, “Either way, it’s done with. The only thing I want to do now is finish this classroom and start looking forward to Monday.”

Darren sets his bag of tools on one of the clusters of desks. “Fair enough.”

Bryce is more reluctant. She tongues her cheek the way I’ve noticed she does when she’s thinking or struggling with something while shooting daggers at the crusted writing on the whiteboard.

I’m struck with another burst of realization as to the person Bryce is beneath the rough exterior that keeps most people at a distance. She’s angry for me, appearing ready to march an army on my behalf, and we’ve only been roommates for a week. I haven’t done anything to earn her protection, but she’s given it to me anyway.

“It’s okay, Frosty. Really,” I urge, stepping off the chair.

She glances at me from the corner of her eye. “It’s not. But I’ll let it go.”

Mouth tugging up, I brush my hands over my cardigan before palming my hips. Darren starts to pull everything out of the bag he brought, and I rush to grab the cleaning spray and a cloth, handing them to Bryce.

“For the whiteboard. Maybe once it’s clean, you won’t look like you want to rip it off the wall and break it in half?”

“No promises,” she grumbles but takes the bottle and cloth from my hands.

“Thank you, Bryce.”

I plant a kiss on her cheek before she gets too far away. Bryce doesn’t freeze up this time. A squeak escapes me when she takes my hand and slants her lips over my knuckles, leaving them there for a breath.