Lessons In Butterflies

Chapter 19: Kiss Her.

Shella's POV (1st Person):

I sat in after-school care with Theo and Leo, both of them completely absorbed in some superhero game, while I tried to focus on my homework. 

Mr. Caldwell had put up an ungodly amount of notes for us to copy, plus chapters from the textbook that seemed designed to break us. 

I bit down on my pen lid, glaring at the question in my booklet:

"If the economic equilibrium is disrupted by an unforeseen event, describe in detail the steps taken to restore the system using the principles of aggregate demand and supply. Include graphical representations of all relevant shifts."

I mean, seriously? This wasn't just difficult—it was impossible. 

I stared at the words, trying to piece them together like some cryptic puzzle. What "unforeseen event"? How many shifts was I supposed to graph? It felt like I was unravelling a nightmare.

My eyes drifted from the page, and I glanced outside through the large windows. That's when I saw him.

Mr. Caldwell was outside, kneeling down and tying the shoes of a little girl, maybe one of the junior students. 

He had this calm look on his face, like he had all the time in the world, and the way his hands moved—steady, careful, like he was concentrating on the most important task in the universe—made me stop chewing on my pen. 

His hair was a little messed up from the day, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing his strong forearms, tanned and... okay, no.

I quickly looked away, heart hammering for no good reason. 

I was not about to sit here and admire how he tied a kid's shoelaces.

But of course, just as I tried to focus back on my homework, the door creaked open. I glanced up, and there he was, Mr. Caldwell, walking into the classroom like he owned the place.

He moved through the room, hands in his pockets, stopping by each of the kids at their little tables, complimenting their work. 

When he knelt down to chat with one of them, his voice was soft and encouraging, his presence gentle. It was a side of him I hadn't really seen before. He always seemed so intense in class, so focused on the lesson, but here... he was different.

My stomach twisted a little as I quickly bent over my book, pretending to scribble furiously. 

"Everyone doing okay?" he asked the room, his voice calm but carrying across the space.

I kept my head down, hoping he wouldn't notice the complete lack of any real work on my page.

I could feel him getting closer, my heartbeat picking up with every step. 

Please don't stop. Please don't stop. I scribbled something, anything, to look busy, but my hand froze when his shadow fell across my table.

"Shella?" His voice was right there—too close. I looked up, and, yep, there he was, standing next to me, glancing at the mess of half-done notes on my paper. 

He raised an eyebrow, and I swear my brain short-circuited.

"Uh, yeah, I'm... good." I lied. Obviously. 

But I didn't have time to come up with anything better because, to my horror, he pulled out the chair beside me and sat down. 

Right next to me.

Why was he sitting down? My heart started racing for no reason other than pure panic.

I shuffled awkwardly in my seat, trying to shift focus back to my booklet, but his presence was making that impossible.