Before the Kiss (Short Prequel to 'One Kiss')

'They Say the Future's Out to Get You' - Nelson

This chapter is dedicated to LittleElfin (aka MoiMoi) who has put up with my fantasies all the way through the journey I have undertaken in writing this, as well as 'One Kiss'. Thank you for always being there, Moi. One day, you won't have to listen to my pointless fantasies anymore! xxx <3

The first day at a new job is always nerve-wracking. The first day at a new job is always nerve-wracking. Nelson Locke straightened his tie five minutes ahead of schedule, and focussed on keeping his breathing level. A proud bachelor, and unashamedly handsome, Nelson lived by the very word 'routine'. His tiny flat in the heart of the city was modern, and acquiescently free of anything associated with 'female'. The walls were coated in white; every piece of furniture was either leather-coated or veneered in expensive-looking-but-totally-cheap-wood. The entire decor of the flat seemed to scream 'woman repellent'. 

Sighing, Nelson smoothed down his hair, and shrugged on his blazer, risking a quick glance at his watch. Hmm, five minutes more, maybe. It always paid to be early on your first day at work. 

Having been a teacher for just over four years, Nelson was still awkward in social situations, having inherited a painfully embarrassing habit of wringing his hands from his father. Not that he was shy; he'd overcome that in university, but Nelson was fairly quiet all the same. He spoke only when he needed to, and if he had nothing to say, he would say nothing at all. He was not one to fill empty spaces with speech; for him, silence spoke a thousand words. Yet, he always did feel a gap. It was a woman-shaped space inside his heart that really did need filling. His mother seemed to notice it too, everytime he entered her house. She would look pointedly at the empty chair beside him at the dinner table, and unspoken questions would linger in the air around the roast beef. His father was expecting a grandson to kick a football with, and his mother was expecting a wife to converse with about the weather and the price of shoes and handbags, and everytime Nelson had to enter his parents' house in the omnipresent absence of a female, he felt a failure.

It wasn't that Nelson couldn't attract females, because he really could. His height, dark hair and blazing blue eyes reeled in women like moths to flames. The trouble was that they were all the wrong women. None of them 'got' him. They all wanted to talk about shoes and fake tan, and chatter in pointless dialogue that got Nelson bored after two minutes. He wanted a woman with fire, elegance, beauty, and at least a quarter of a brain cell in her head. If he could get this, he reasoned, before he was fifty, it would be his life's achievement. 

Sighing, and glancing down at his dreaded watch a final time, Nelson decided it was time to leave. Swallowing the last dregs of his coffee, and snatching his coat from it's peg, Nelson made for the door.

                                                                                                                                                            ***

By the time his car pulled into the car park of Springfield Falls High, Nelson was exactly fifteen minutes early for briefing. He signed in at reception, and made his way to the planning room to meet his colleagues, and grab a quick cup of something sugary, hot and strong-tasting before he had to brave the rest of the staff. Unfortunately, he was not the only one with the same idea.

As he elbowed open the door, he heard a muffled ow! from the other side. Curiously, Nelson pushed the door, ready-made excuses and apologies balanced on his tongue. It was a woman; probably the same age, or maybe slightly older than him on the other side of the door. She was tacking large photocopied sheets to a noticeboard right next to the door. She had dropped the sheet, and was holding the back of her head, shooting him an insulted stare. Immediately, everything Nelson had wanted to say vanished. 

She was insanely pretty, and she looked like she didn't even know it. She was very slender, and was wearing what Nelson's mum liked to call a 'powersuit'; aka a tight-fitting blouse under a fitted blazer and a pencil skirt and black baby doll heels. Her eyes were large and brown, and seemed to stir like liquid with the emotion that poured from them. Her hair was brown and swept back into a chinese ceramic clip that glinted in the light. Nelson risked a glance at her left hand, uneasy at what he might see, but it was reassuringly blank;  no wedding or engagement ring. Struck by this, Nelson reached out a hand, bending down to pick up the dropped paper.

"I apologise," he murmured sincerely, "are you hurt?" The woman seemed to need to catch her breath.

"No, no. I'm fine." She replied, her eyes raking over his face. She held out her hand. "I presume you're our new teacher?"

"Er, yes." Nelson enveloped the hand in his. It was cool and smooth - well manicured. "Nelson Locke." A small smile spread slowly over the woman's face like butter melting on a pan. 

"Ah, yes. Apologies, I wasn't present for your interview earlier this year; I had the flu. You will have been interviewed by my colleague." They shook hands slowly, sincerely.

"Sarah Harte," she introduced. "I'm head of faculty."

 "It's lovely to meet you," remarked Nelson, letting go of her hand with great resentment. "I look forward to working with you, Mrs Harte." It was better to be presumptious. Sarah laughed nervously.

"It's Miss Harte. I'm not married, but please call me Sarah. Unless of course we're in front of the students."

"I apologise."

"No need," Sarah hastened. There was an awkward silence. Nelson cursed himself for the ditch he had planted himself in. However, they were saved by the sound of the planning room door crashing into them both. 

"Ooch!" Said a voice from the otherside. "Sorry, Sarah, is that you?"

"It's fine, we're fine." Called Sarah. They moved in time to let the newcomer in. He was a muscly guy; with dark hair and serious eyes. He looked to be about thirty five. 

"Oh!" He cried, seizing Nelson's hand, and wringing it like a tea towel. "You must be Nelson Locke! It's great to meet you. I'm Milo. Milo King, assistant head of faculty."

Nelson nodded along, smiling. 

"Well," said Sarah brightly, "It's almost time for briefing in the library, and the others will be along in a minute. Why don't you make yourself at home, Nelson?" She smiled at him, and it seemed to light her up from the inside.

All at once, for the first time in his life, Nelson found himself answering to a woman.