We had three days to work until our final drafts were due, mine was already done. The 300 word limit was tough to work with, but to me it just meant every word needed to be more meaningful. Naturally, mine was 250. I had successfully avoided Love all weekend, but I couldn't say I was excited to see her after Friday night. The bell rung signaling us to our fourth period, I sighed making my way over to Ms.Quinns room.
I had been feeling weird about the interaction all weekend, but out of sight out of mind. Ignoring the foggy night was a lot easier than I thought it would be, my brain refused to register how embarrassing the end of my night was.
She walked into class wearing a black blazer and matching black trousers. Her hair was pinned up and she had thin glasses on, different than the ones she had on Friday night. I thought back to what Lauren had said, she did look like a hot corporate boss. Her eyes scanned the room completely avoiding me, I sighed.
"Today you're going to work on your final drafts. Once you have gotten to 150 words you are free to go."
I opened my laptop to my final draft, starring at the blazing screen and annoyingly my confidence began dissolving. I messed around with the format and replaced words, scanning my work for readability. Was it too punctual? Or too obvious? I read over it a couple of times, listening to other kids rushing to turn their work in. She sat in the back of her class at her desk, I couldn't see her but I felt her eyes bearing into the back of my head. I felt the itching urge to talk to her, to look at her, to smell her, to impress her. I clenched my jaw, I'd never met someone who made me feel so frustrated and so helpless. Before I knew it, I was the last student in her classroom as I listened to the door shut.
"Did you get some done from your first draft-"
"I finished." She raised an eyebrow and sat on top of the nearest desk, holding a hand out for my computer. We locked eyes briefly and I felt my stomach flip, just as quickly her eyes switched to my screen as she began to read. I felt like I was going to explode, the silence was killing me. After what felt like an hour she finally looked up at me,
"This is good Devin, really good." I felt the familiar warm feeling spread across my chest but now that she had acknowledged my work, the elephant in the room seemed to double in size. "I think you-"
"I'm sorry about Friday Love." It was the last thing that my ego wanted me to say, but the smell of her perfume and the way I felt at ease being around her made it too easy. She switched her eyes from the screen to me, I tried to ignore my own reflection in her glasses. My heart was beating heavily in my ears,
"You have nothing to apologize for, did you have fun?" She asked light heartedly. I smiled, relieved she didn't go right into scolding me like she was my mother,
"You know it wasn't too bad."
"Do you remember what happened?" She asked carefully, I knew exactly what she was asking about.
"Yes, I do." I looked at the tile. "I destroyed like 6 people in a game of Rage Cage while my best friend was throwing up." She laughed, a real laugh that made it feel like we were actually friends.
"It's been a long time since I've been that drunk." She said looking up like she was recounting a memory,
"What's your favorite drink?" I asked. She frowned like the answer should be obvious,
"Red wine." I looked at her quizzically,
"Jeez what are you, 35?" She rolled her eyes and stood playfully, walking to her desk,
"Okay, that's it." She said flatly. I followed her laughing,
"No I didn't mean it, you dont look a day over 40." She leaned against her desk as I stood in front of me crossing her arms,
"I'm 22 Devin, if that's what you're really asking." I swallowed, four years? Not bad. She must've seen the gears turning in my head and she cleared her throat looking away,
"Shouldnt you be at lunch?"
"And give you an easy out from this conversation? Right. Mine is Smirnoff, if you couldn't tell." She looked at me firmly but eventually gave up her front,
"Straight gasoline, like why do you choose to drink that?" I smiled at my small victory,
"Gets the job done." She rolled her eyes,
"You only drink to get drunk?" I laughed at her response,
"Showing your age again, Ms.Quinn." She looked at me in awe and asked,
"You've never had a wine night with your friends? Or even whiskey?" I leaned against the chair I was in front of,
"Wine drunk gets me messed up. The last time I got wine drunk my ex called me her exes nick name." Love raised her eyebrows and hummed,
"She sounds like a real charmer." I noticed I had just came out to her, and she didn't miss a beat. Score.
"What about your exes, you dont have any crazy stories?" I knew asking this was risky, she always avoided personal subjects but only when it came to her. She looked down and sighed,
"My boyfriend proposed to me at an Italian restaurant and I choked on a piece of ravioli. Turns out I'm allergic to feta." I couldn't hold my laugh in, imagining her peeling over while her boyfriend was on one knee.
Wait, proposed? Boyfriend? Not a score.
I glanced down not too discreetly at her bare left ring finger,
"So how did that turn out?" I studied her face closely, it was like we were playing some sort of game. She knew exactly what I was asking but chose to play it safe,
"You know, military deployment." I nodded my head but I wasn't satisfied,
"Would you have said yes if he wasn't?" It was her turn to laugh this time,
"I caught him taking it in the ass with his battle buddy so, hopefully not." It felt like a pound of sand was lifted from my rib cage and I sighed gratefully,
"Yeah, I think you have me beat." I didn't bother hiding my relief, the way her eyes flicked down nervously I knew she caught it.
"I think you should go Devin." She said quietly.
"Why?" I almost whined.
"Because."
"But were having an amazing conversation about alcohol and our last relationships-"
"That's why." She rubbed her forehead with her hand. The mood of the conversation changed dramatically within the last 15 seconds which is what I hated so much about talking to her.
"Right" I answered quickly. She began straightening the papers on her desk distracting herself and effectively ignoring me. I sighed, and turned around leaving her classroom without another word.
