Myocardium

Part 34

As much as it makes me uncomfortable to think of intimacy as he speaks about it, it's simultaneously so strangely fascinating. When he rambles on and on about the technical facts about the human climax and what forms of stimulation even exist, I the uncomfortable intensifies, most likely because my stupid mind keeps reminding me of what happened between us. It quite literally grosses me out, makes my gorge rise to a point where I have a hard time trying not to let my inner thoughts show through facial distortion. 

And even though I know exactly that he is talking to us as a group and is not singling me out in the slightest, my hands begin sweating and my heart begins racing as if he's directly addressing me. From what I can feel, I notice how my face must be turning red as I can no longer keep my eyes on the holder of the lesson due to the embarrassment boiling inside of me. The glands in my mouth begin producing saliva as if I'm about to vomit. 

In one swift stroke, but sneakily as ever, I wipe my wet hands on my pants and look out of the window, subconsciously sinking deeper into my seat. Man, I'm so hoping he doesn't notice how perturbed I suddenly am.

For the rest of his lesson, I make sure to keep my eyes on the few trees outside the school building. It has gotten a bit foggy, but the silhouettes of the cars, bushes and other various objects are still visible. In fact, the fog makes it easier for me to concentrate on the outside rather than on whatever the hell Rafael keeps lecturing the rest of the class about.

This has nothing to do with him or the way he's speaking. On the contrary, I think he's doing an absolutely excellent job telling us all these objectively interesting things. And trust me, with every other topic, I would absolutely give him my full attention, but with this, I can't.

Something inside of me tells me that if I keep listening to every word he says, I will end up feeling emotions that might be wrong, or ones that will make me feel as if I'm wrong for feeling them. I know myself, I know how I get. And the very last thing I want to do is make Rafael worry about the way I react to his actions and words. 

He doesn't deserve to bear my anger when he is not its source and he doesn't deserve to feel like he's in the wrong when it's just my projection of fears that's faulty. It wouldn't be fair. So I'd rather not listen at all to avoid the spite I might feel towards him if I ruminate on the topic for too long. As hard as I try, I can't forget about what happened between us, and as truthfully as I would like to not do so, I am still holding grudges about it. Deep down and kept quiet thanks to all the good things he has been redeeming himself with, that is. Rationally, I know that when it comes to Rafael, the good deeds outweigh these few negatives I only even remember when seeking for them in the deepest depths of my messed-up mind. 

Subconsciously, I reach for the little black charm on my necklace, tracing the small, majestic dragon with my index finger as I hold it gently. I begin wondering how this thing between us looks from Rafael's view, how he thinks about me. Could it really be so very different from what I'm feeling?

Of course, there are still these stupid, intrusive thoughts of immediate distrust telling me he only does it out of pity or he just hangs out with me to eventually take advantage of me. I know that will not happen, that Rafael would never do anything to purposefully hurt me, but these are thoughts that live in the back of my mind constantly.

They're like parasites, as much as I try getting rid of them, I just can't. And that only out of the simple reason that another question always stays in my head: What if they're right?! Ugh, I hate the way my mind works sometimes.

When the bell rings, I'm ripped out of my comforting cloud of thoughts so roughly that I flinch hard when the loud, jarring noise chimes through the whole building.