Without The Words

Chapter 29

Mr. Lee held every bit of jealousy in his eyes. He lacked the ability to hide it. As much as I wanted to believe he was sweet all the time, he looked mean and territorial when it came to Mr. Elliot.

Perhaps Mr. Lee wasn't the only one, which I had heard other teachers speaking poorly of Mr. Elliot. But could Mr. Lee really be jealous over something that revolved around me?

Mr. Lee's possessiveness caused me to want him physically and I couldn't seem to understand why. My heart thumped like a drum as I dropped my belongings next to my desk. I rummaged around in my backpack as an excuse to not look at Mr. Lee, but I felt his eyes burning a divine path in every inch of my damn body.

When I slumped down in my seat and my eyes impulsively landed on him, he was staring- hell, he was studying me with so much intensity that I had to look away in fear of exploding from the tension.

I uncomfortably shifted in my seat, my fingers twirling with each other out of boredom and complete discomfort.

"What is your grade in his class?" Mr. Lee asked, rolling his desk chair to the middle of the classroom.

I began to nervously scribble on my notepad.

An 85, I think, I wrote, my handwriting purposely bigger so that Mr. Lee could read it from the distance.

"An eighty-five is perfectly fine," Mr. Lee muttered in a choleric manner. He licked his lips and looked around the classroom. I stared at the smart-board behind him, attempting with all my might to avoid awkward eye-contact.

"I don't want you to go," he voiced rather harshly. "It's not fair to you. He clearly isn't going to keep you in that classroom for extra help."

My eyes widened. "T-then for what?" I stuttered, my voice throaty and graceless.

"Nothing," he said abruptly, dismissing the point. "I just don't want you to go."

I wrote on my notepad. But you're not keeping me for extra help, either.

I slowly got up from my seat and proceeded onto the desk in the front row. I lowered myself into the seat and turned my notepad around to show him. His eyes absorbed my writing, stress causing his eyebrows to scrunch together.

"Yeah," he muttered, his right hand whispering across the stubble dusted on his chin. "I know."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. It pained me to see him so worried. Then and there I would have done anything to ease the pain for him, but there was nothing I could possibly do that would make it better.

He raised his arms and rested them on his mass of curls atop his head. God, he looked so beautiful right now. His legs were laid out in front of him and his eyes were set on the ceiling.

I sat there helplessly, the desk creaking with every movement my body made as I uncomfortably shifted around.

I squinted at the clock. Ten minutes until I had to go to his class. A zap of panic erupted in my chest. I placed my hand over my heart and focused on the throb of my heartbeat as a distraction from a panic attack.

"I don't want to go," I whimpered.

"It'll be okay," he said to the ceiling, his eyes nowhere near focused on me.

I wasn't just petrified of the fact that I would be alone with Mr. Elliot. I was unnerved because this was a disadvantage of social anxiety- being alone with somebody you didn't know. What if I had a panic attack in front of Mr. Elliot? Not only would it be embarrassing, but I doubt he'd even know what to do. Somehow Mr. Lee knew how to make me feel better, but in no way could Mr. Elliot do that.