After Class

Chapter Three:Unspoken Truths

The weekend dragged on endlessly for Sam. She tried to immerse herself in homework, art projects, and time with her few close friends, but her mind kept drifting back to Tuesday - back to Mr. Blackwood.

She couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd looked at her, his voice low and intimate when he'd warned her about the sketches. Had he really seen them? And if so, what did he make of the careful renderings of his hands, his face, his eyes? The idea of him scrutinising those private drawings made her simultaneously thrilled and mortified.

As Sam lay awake on Sunday night, she allowed herself to imagine what could happen at the Literary Magazine meeting. Would he acknowledge her directly, or would they have to maintain the carefully neutral teacher-student dynamic? The anticipation made her stomach twist with equal parts excitement and dread.

When the morning bell finally rang on Tuesday, Sam practically raced to Mr. Blackwood's classroom, arriving five minutes early. But as she reached for the door, it swung open, and she found herself face-to-face with Jessica Martinez.

"Oh, hey Sam!" Jessica chirped, flashing an overly bright smile. "I was just heading out. Mr. Blackwood said the meeting's been moved to the library."

Sam felt her heart sink. "The library?" she repeated, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.

"Yup." Jessica's gaze flickered down, and Sam realised she was still clutching her notebook to her chest. "You must be excited for the meeting. I heard you got the spot on the staff."

"I - I guess so," Sam mumbled. She forced a smile, silently cursing herself for the flush she felt creeping up her cheeks.

As Jessica sauntered off, Sam took a deep breath and headed toward the library. The large, airy space was deserted except for a small group clustered around one of the long tables. Mr. Blackwood stood at the head, gesturing as he spoke.

"Ah, Sam," he said, looking up as she approached. "Glad you could make it."

The warmth in his voice sent a familiar thrill through her, but she refused to meet his gaze. "Jessica said the meeting was moved here."

"Yes, we needed a bit more space." He gestured to the group. "Come, join us. I was just going over our plans for the year."

Reluctantly, Sam took the empty seat at the far end of the table, sandwiched between two sophomores she vaguely recognized. As Mr. Blackwood resumed his talk, her eyes drifted to the space between them - about ten feet, but it might as well have been miles.

This wasn't at all what she'd imagined. She'd pictured stolen glances, lingering conversations, maybe even a moment alone with him. But here, surrounded by her peers, the distance between them felt insurmountable.

After the meeting, Sam hung back, hoping for a chance to speak with him privately. But as the other students filed out, Mr. Blackwood was already packing up his things.

"Good work today, everyone," he called out. "I'll see you all next week."

Sam's heart sank as she realised he wasn't even looking at her. Slowly, she gathered her own belongings and headed for the door, blinking back frustrated tears.

The walk home only made her feel worse. As she trudged up the long driveway to the Wilkins estate, the guilt and shame of her feelings threatened to overwhelm her. How could she be so foolish, so selfish? Mr. Blackwood was her teacher - a respected, intelligent man who was leagues above her in every way. And she was just a stupid, love-struck girl who needed to get her head out of the clouds.

"Samantha, darling! There you are."

Sam froze as the front door swung open, revealing her mother, Vivienne, in a flowing white sundress and oversized sun hat. "I was beginning to worry. You're late for your piano lesson."