The English teacher and his hard-to-get student
You approach your favourite classroom out of the entire school. How could it not be? Itâs where the most important and dearest person in your life is. Your TC. Taking a deep breath, you open the door, hoping that he wonât mind youâre a little late.
The first thing you hear is the high pitch wolf-whistle of a fellow classmate. Jesus, do they ever give up? you think with a roll of your eye and take your seat. It wasnât even your decision to have the closest desk to him, that was all his choice. Just another thing that makes you question what he thinks of you.
You look over to your TC, hiding a smile behind your pencil as he tries to flick locks of curly brown hair out of his eyes. All attempts fail. He looks up and catches you staring. You look away, your heart pace quickening. You can still remember the first time you saw those gorgeous green eyes as he walked the halls, lost and confused. He has been forever grateful for you helping him find his way. Just that simple kindness may have been the thing that makes you his favourite out of everyone. Maybe more than he likes to admit.
âGlad to see that my star pupil decided to join us,â he jokes with a grin.
âHad to have you all missing me and wondering where I was,â you tease.
He chuckles and shakes his head, going back to flicking through papers on his desk, biting the studded ring in his bottom lip. Just watching it makes you shift in your seat. You wonder if he notices how you react to him and try to calm yourself. He doesnât need to know how much he affects you.
He turns around and grabs a whiteboard marker. As he lifts up his arms, you watch the way his leather jacket moves with his muscles. So perfectly contoured to fit his body that you wonder if it was custom made. As he starts to turn around, you pretend to go back to writing in your book about Animal Farm by George Orwell and the Russian revolution references.
Flicking the marker in his hand as he asks questions to the class, you pretend not to listen, even though every single word churns your stomach and sucks in every ounce of concentration you have.
When the class ends, youâre disappointed, as you have to leave him behind. Like every other time.
âHey,â he calls out to you as you go to open the door, the last student to leave.
You stop and look at him, very curious. âYeah?â you ask casually, pretending not to care.
âHowâs the work going? Not too hard?â he asks, leaning against his desk. âYou just looked a little distracted in class today.â
âYeah, itâs fine,â you say, keeping up that casual façade. You motion to yourself as you say, âtop of class remember,â you laugh.
He nods his head, looking unconvinced. âWhatâs got you so preoccupied lately then?â
âNothing,â you lie, making a note to work harder to make it less obvious.
âYou can always talk to me, you know?â
You nod, trying to hide a smile. âI know.â
âCome here,â he says, beckoning you with his hand.
You squint your eyes at him, now even more confused.
He chuckles, showing those pearly white teeth. His laugh always makes you melt. Itâs perfect.
âCome on,â he grins, continuing to motion you with his hand.
You give in and walk over to him, pretending to be careless of the fact that youâre alone with him and he wants you to come closer.
As you reach him, you stop right in front of him, thankful for a poster covering the window of his door. No eyes can see. No one can assume.
âSo, you have me here. Now what?â
He grins again. âYou fascinate me,â he says, piercing my eyes with his own.
âYeah. The way you hide your emotions. I never know what youâre thinking. What youâre feeling. Itâs fascinating. I wish I could hide things as well as you.â
He reaches his hand out slowly and entwines his hand with yours. You look deeply into his eyes, giving nothing away even though all you want to do is wrap your arms around him and never let go.
âSee what I mean?â he asks.
You shake your head, swallowing hard.
âNothing. No recoil of my touch. No smile. You show me nothing of how I make you feel. Do you want to know how I feel?â
âI donât know, do I?â you lie. Of course you do!
âYes, I think you do.â
âOkay, tell me then. How do you feel?â
He grins at the fact you want to know. âThis,â he says, looking at your fingers clasped together. âIt makes me lose all control. You make me lose control. I canât tell you enough how hard it is to see you walk in here near every day and for me to have to treat you like any other student. When all I want to do, is wrap my arms around you. I hope that Iâm not wrong with how I think you feel.â
âHow do you think I feel?â you ask, your voice cracking as you try not to cry. Never in your life have you felt so special, so incredibly, blissfully, happy. He cares about you! This is more than you could have ever asked for.
âI think that you feel the same.â He pauses and watches you, hoping for a reaction.
Your eyes become teary and you let a smile break through. âYeah?â you ask, teasing him a little.
âYeah,â he whispers. âAm I right?â
You nod and grin like a maniac.
âI hoped so,â he sighs with a smile as he searches your face.
You have never seen him so vulnerable. Just as he has never seen you so exposed either.
A tear slips from the corner of your eye and he wipes it away with a gentle finger. He cups your cheek with his hand, the other still holding onto yours tightly. You close your eyes and open them again, afraid that itâs all just a dream. That youâll wake up and be sitting by your desk. That you would look up and see your TC, not knowing how he feels. Having to hide how you feel. Trying to act as though he doesnât affect you.
Your free hand rests on top of his and you close your eyes again. This is real. Itâs all real. You finally know how he feels after so long of questioning everything. And he knows how you feel, after so long of pretending.
Finally, the truth. Itâs all you have ever asked for and the answer is more than anything your wildest dreams could have thought of. Itâs perfect.