Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Shit!” He yells, and I snap out of my daze. I rush out of there, closing the door in my wake before briskly walking away. I have no direction in mind other than very far away.
I don’t know how he cleaned up so fast, but in no time he’s running after me.
“Luci, wait!” I stop and turn to face him without knowing what to say. Do I tell him it’s okay? Let him know how much I like him, so he can hear me say it and realize I want this too? Should I confess that I do the same damn thing every day, also while thinking about him?
“My classroom. Now,” his stern voice interrupts my thoughts before I actually have the chance to say anything.
He walks into the room brushing past me. He shuts the door and pauses. We’re both quiet, not looking at one another, too embarrassed.
“You didn’t seem surprised,” he finally whispers, breaking the silence.
His face is unforgiving and full of shame. I look past him, out the window and onto the track as I answer.
“No.”
“Why?” He demands, and his harsh voice makes me wince.
“It’s not the first time I’ve seen you do that.”
When I finally look at him, his expression is worse than I feared, ruthless.
“Shit,” he closes his eyes. “Since when?” He asks like he’s afraid to know.
“A few months ago,” I admit.
Neither of us says anything as he lets my admission sink in.
“It’s okay,” I croak. Please God, let it be okay.
“It’s not!” He shouts as he slams his fist onto his desk.
I cower back. I’ve never seen him angry like this. The way he stands, the way he’s looking at me. It’s the first time I feel young, like I’m actually doing something wrong. I’m furious though, because I’m not the only one who’s disturbed here.
I know him well enough to know I can’t argue with him when he’s like this, so I turn around to leave.
“Wait, Luci,” his voice is slightly softer, but I don’t turn back around as I wait for him to say something, anything.
It’s like a knife slices right through me when he doesn’t.
“Look,” I whisper, not facing him. “I… really like you… obviously… more than I should,” I confess. “And I know you feel it too.”
When I finally turn around and meet his eyes, they’re full of pain and confusion, but there’s something beyond that… Lust? Need? Hope?
Hope.
I’m choosing to hold on to that.
He pulls out a chair and motions for me to sit. I’m a ball of nerves as I do, watching as he grabs another chair, so deflated over the fact that he makes a point to position it so far away from mine, not wanting to be anywhere near me.
It’s absolutely devastating.
He sighs loudly as he pinches the top of his nose. “I think you’re confused by what you saw,” he swallows. “It was very inappropriate of me. Not to mention a big mistake.”
I sit up a little straighter, not knowing where shy little me musters up the courage, but how dare he!
“It didn’t seem like a mistake when you intentionally called my name every time you came.” His face remains stern, angry even, but his eyes now hold a hint of amusement, which encourages me to continue. “I’ve liked you since the moment I saw you,” I let out a breathy laugh. “I thought it was obvious…”
“I get it,” he interrupts loudly, and while his voice and attitude cause me to sink back in my chair, I don’t let that stop me.
“I know that this makes me weird and -”
“Like what I was doing isn’t?” He counters, before adding, “I’m your teacher.”
“I’m eighteen!”
“Barely,” he huffs.
“It’s legal.”
“Is that supposed to make it okay?” He closes his eyes again, aggravated.
“Well then,” I stand, exhaling loudly. “I obviously misunderstood… everything.”
This time, he doesn’t stop me as I leave.
I guess being so into school has its perks, because neither Mom nor Dad questions my sickness as I stay home the next few days. I’ve decided that I’m going to transfer out of his class. We just got back from break, and it’s a new semester, so hopefully it won’t be too difficult.
I’m so humiliated by how I outwardly admitted I like him, and how quickly he turned me down. I can’t picture sitting in his class the rest of the year, longing after him so pathetically.
I finalize my decision at some point on Thursday, but when Gracie gets home from school, she tells me he stopped her in the hallway to ask how I’m feeling. She doesn’t know what happened, what I’ve watched him do over and over again. As far as she knows, we just eat lunch together.
Truthfully, I think he only sought her out to see if I said anything to anyone. You know, with me being a silly, young, high school girl who didn’t get what she wanted. It’s obviously what’s expected of young me - to go ahead and be petty.