Lessons In Butterflies ｡ ｡ ｡ (StudentxTeacher Romance)

Chapter 9: Bless You.

Shella's POV (1st Person):

It was raining. Of course, it was. I tugged the hood of my rain jacket tighter over my head as I walked to the junior school, trying to avoid the large puddles forming along the path.

The drops were cold, soaking through my shoes, and I was just ready to be done with this day. At least Mr. Caldwell was only covering until the morning—thank goodness I wouldn't have to run into him again.

Or so I thought.

I spotted him through the windows before I even reached the building. He was standing near the entrance, talking to one of the primary school teachers.

She looked like Cheryl—a little too perfectly put together for someone dealing with kids all day, hair in tight curls, and that overly sweet smile. I didn't like her already, and I had no idea why.

Why was he talking to her, though? Did they know each other?

I stopped short, deciding to take the long way around the school to the afterschool care room. No kids would be outside in this weather, and honestly, I didn't feel like talking to anyone.

Especially him.

I made my way inside, shaking the rain off my jacket, and sighed in relief. Maybe I'd actually get through the afternoon without any more awkward run-ins.

And then, the door opened.

Mr. Caldwell stepped in, rain clinging to his dark jacket. He glanced around the room and immediately spotted me.

Great. Just great.

"Shella, there you are," he said, striding towards me. "I need some help moving some boxes with textbooks for the children. They're in the storeroom."

"Uh... okay." I nodded, trying not to seem flustered.

Why did I have to help? Wasn't he supposed to be the one doing things like that?

He turned and left the room without saying much else, leaving me no choice but to follow. The question popped into my head—who was going to supervise the kids?

But I didn't dare ask him.

I trailed after him, hoping I wouldn't make a fool of myself, which, of course, I probably would. I tried to keep my head down and not look at him too much, but it was impossible not to notice how he looked today.

His rain-soaked jacket clung to his broad shoulders, and he was wearing a dark button-down underneath, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms. 

Not like you could tell under the jacket or anything.

He had this effortless way about him that just made me more self-conscious by the second.

We reached the storeroom, a small room stuffed with old textbooks, supplies, and layers upon layers of dust.

As soon as we stepped inside, I felt my nose start to itch. The air was thick with it, making everything feel just a little bit heavier.

I tried to stifle it, but the sneeze came anyway. I managed to catch it in the crook of my elbow, my face burning with embarrassment.

I hoped he wouldn't say anything, but of course, I was wrong.

"Bless you," he said, his voice holding just the faintest hint of amusement.

I looked over at him, my nose still twitching. He was trying to keep a straight face, but I could see it—the slight wrinkle of his nose, like he was trying not to look disgusted.