Orientation: The Benchmarks Series

sound panted out of me. I didn't know I'd gone from stressed to starved in the span of minutes, but here I was, confused and—and absolutely melting for this man. "I'm not sure what that means."
Max reached behind him, opening a door that led to another hallway. "Right here," he repeated. "The first door on your left is the library. That's where you're supposed to be."
I stared over his shoulder as I gathered up the fragile, needy parts of myself I'd let go uncaged in the minutes since meeting Max. I didn't know what I was thinking. Rather, I hadn't thought. I'd followed this big, sweet golden retriever even when I knew better.
"Thank you," I said, not quite meeting his eyes. He leaned back against the door, making way for me to pass, but only if I angled my body. I didn't do that. I shuffled past him, the entire length of my arm brushing his chest as I went. Hard, hard, hard he was. I fixed my gaze on the buttons open at his throat, wondered whether I'd find him smooth or fuzzy if I slipped my hand under the fabric. Yeah, he was fuzzy. I was as positive as a proton about that. "It wasn't dumb."
"What?" he asked, the word barely more than a cough.
I risked a glance at his face. The smile remained but it didn't reach his eyes. "Green for science. It wasn't dumb. I think that too. That's…that's exactly why I wear it."
I couldn't surrender another minute to this man, not even if I wanted more than anything to do precisely that. Tightening my grip on the strap of my messenger bag, I marched toward the library.
"You're not late," Max called. "We always hold the first half hour for coffee and bagels. We're big into the coffee and bagel scene around here." He paused, probably waiting for me to turn and acknowledge his words with something more than a relieved exhale. Then, "Do you like bagels?"
I lifted my shoulders, let them fall. "Cinnamon raisin, yeah. Warmed, but not all the way toasted."
He made a noise that sounded like approval, a rumbling murmur that said, "Yes. Just like that."
"I like sesame, even if the seeds make a damn mess." He studied the front of his shirt, as if he expected he'd discover errant seeds there. "But I might try that cinny raisin some time."
"You should." I glanced back at him. "I'm Jory. Hayzer. Jory Hayzer."
His brows furrowed as he worked out my name in his head. There was no hiding these machinations as they were splashed all over his face. "Jory. Like Rory, but with a J."
I bobbed my head. "Yeah."
His smile could've thawed ice. It was possible he was thawing my ice as we spoke. "I like it."
"Thanks." Smiling wasn't my nature. It always looked like I was forced or uncomfortable. Slight grins were more my speed. But somewhere between my perfectionism and stoicism and ever-present anxiety, I found a true smile for Max. "Thank you for showing me the way," I said. "I should get in there. I need to assess the bagel situation."
His eyes turned stony and his lips flattened into a striking line as he jabbed a finger in my direction. "Defend that cinny raisin territory, Hayzer."
Max delivered that order as if he was calling plays from the sidelines. Serious, stern, allowing no room for argument. I adored it. Adored it. I couldn't decide whether it was my unanswered desire for a strong, certain presence at my side or the knowledge Max possessed as much strength as he did sweetness.
"I'll do that," I promised, still smiling.
The stern façade dissolved. "If you wanted, you could come find me after your new staff sessions today. I'll be around all day." He propped a hand on his waist, shrugged. If this was his way of affecting casual, it was even more adorable than the no-nonsense coach vibe. "It's mostly administrative stuff. Ordering supplies, organizing athletics schedules, sorting balls." He smirked. "Phys ed teachers. We've got a lot of balls."
"I bet you do," I replied, a laugh thick in my words. "And where should I find you and your balls?"
"In the closet."
I blinked. Once, twice. "Excuse me?"
The smirk deepened. "That's where they keep me around here. In the closet." Max gestured to the dark hallway. "My office is the phys ed supply closet. The imagery isn't lost on me."
At that, I laughed out loud. "I believe you mean the irony."
He snapped his fingers, pointed at me as he bobbed his head. "Yeah, that. Irony."
"Is that something I should be aware of here?" I swept a glance down the hall, adding, "The closet and such?"
Pausing, he gifted me another up-and-down look. "This is a good place. Good people. Everyone is welcome here and we make a point of it. I've been at Bayside since the doors opened and I've never regretted it." His gaze locked onto my belt buckle before meeting my eyes. "Like I said, come find me later. I'll show you around and introduce you to the good copier and tell you anything you want to know about this school. Or anything else."
His words loosened something inside me. Something buried deep, far past the brittle overgrowth of cynicism and distrust. "I might do that, Coach."

2
Max
Six hours after watching Jory step into the library, my hands were still shaking.
Shaking.
I'd made four completely unnecessary trips to the front office in that time. All on the off chance of catching a glimpse of him while strolling past the library. But the problem with doors and walls was I couldn't see through them.
I didn't need much. Just one look at Jory, one clear-eyed look. I had to see that green, checkered shirt and Superman hair. I needed to confirm he was all right, to see for myself that the worried gleam in his eyes and apprehensive twist of his lips was gone. I couldn't explain why my gut churned with an unbearable urge to guard and protect him