Love In Destin ✔

05 - she doesn't get it

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𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒂

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𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗔𝗗 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗦, 𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗞 hair and rolled up sleeves, Mr. Allen stands tall near the projector, explaining the impulse-momentum theorem to us. He was really courteous toward me when I arrived late to class due to me getting completely lost among the sea of students. I felt like a kid who gets lost in a vast mall. You don't know where to go or who to talk to.

Thankfully, a Korean girl named Jenna—who was also heading to physics—was kind enough to reach out to me and help.

Presently, she is gazing at Mr. Allen, who has nothing but a smile across his face with so much love visible in her eyes. The gleam of his gray eyes stayed hidden behind his spectacles. He must be in his mid-twenties, but I must admit, he is admirable.

During middle school, there was this young substitute teacher for whom all the girls swooned over. I gagged at the idea of them crushing on someone so old, yet I had a crush on Zac Efron, so who was I to judge? The brave girls made attempts to flirt with him; it was aggravating.

Though I can't imagine Jenna having a crush on Mr.Allen, he is our teacher.

She twines a strand of her shoulder-length black hair behind her ear and licks her thin lips. She takes off her spectacles for a minute to wipe them clean before putting them back on, restoring her smile.

I try paying attention to Mr. Allen's words but keep zoning out. I use writing as an alternative to help me pay attention. It works.

"Any questions?" he inquires, his explanation concluding.

Jenna raises a hand, and he permits her to proceed.

I zoom in on Mr. Allen's expression. He strides to her table as he responds to her question and then pauses. Is that a smile I see? Why concern yourself with such nonsense?! My inner consciousness scolds.

My brain is right, so I concentrate on completing his assigned work for the rest of the period.

For the following two periods before lunchtime, I gather the courage to ask people for directions to the classes.

During calculus class, my stomach growls so loud I fear people will think it's a fart. Concentrating on math is already hard on its own, and now I have to focus with hunger in the mix. I am livid.

"Mrs. Garcia," I call, raising my hand as the middle-aged woman twists her frail body to face me. She raises an eyebrow, making my growling stomach cringe at how stretched her face is. How can anyone be comfortable in that hair?

Her back bun is pulled back so tight it might just pull her face off.

"What is it?" she tightens her grip on the white chalk between her untended fingers.

"I'd like to go out."

"To where?"

"The toilet."

You must wonder how the toilet will satisfy my hunger, but I only want time off from the class. I am getting bored to death, and my butt hurts from sitting for so long. I just need to stretch my legs for a minute.

"No." She spins back to the board. "Lunch is after this, so wait."

"Umm." It is time to bring out the secret weapon most girls might use. Well, it is my secret weapon. "It's an emergency. It can't wait."