Lesson Learned {Student Teacher Romance}

Chapter 17

Without a second look, I disappeared into the kitchen and made a beeline for the alley behind the Opera House. The chilly air prickles my skin as I push through the backdoor to escape into the alley without a jacket. 

Hiding from the breeze, I crouch into a squat next to one of the dumpsters and bury my head in my hands to try and catch my tumbling thoughts.

"Get it together," I mutter. "Just breathe."

"Excuse me?" Someone chuckles softly over my head.

"Gah!" I jump up and shout.

I have no idea how I missed the stately woman standing in the shadows of the dumpsters because she's draped in an unbelievable fox fur coat. She's also balancing the thinnest cigarette I've ever seen between the curious smile on her red lips.

"Sorry," I rush to apologize. "You startled me."

Her elegance clashed with the dull orange security lights. 

"I tend to do that," the woman's raspy reply is laced with ephemeral smoke. "Can we keep this little encounter between us girls?"

I must look utterly confused because she shakes her head as if she has made a faux pas.

"I'm Hyacinth Smithe," she surprises me again. "And I was hoping you wouldn't mention that you caught me outside smoking."

In spite of my shock, I manage a professional smile. 

She's nothing like I pictured. The first time I heard her name, I imagined a hoity-toity society lady. Instead, Hyacinth Smithe had the sophistication and natural beauty of Sophia Loren.

"I'm Moira," I introduce myself. "And I won't tell if you give me one."

"Bribery?" She arches a groomed brow. "I like your style."

I give her a conspiratorial look and accept the twig of a cigarette she hands over.

Hyacinth leans in and flicks the top off of a gold-plated lighter with a sort of curvy script etched on the front to give me a spark. 

I haven't smoked in years, and I only tried it when I was feeling particularly rebellious. The motions, however, came back like an old friend and I straighten up to watch our trails of smoke mingle in midair.

"Can't stand the privileged asshats inside either, huh?" Hyacinth cackles.

"Oh, they're fine," I try and curb my smile at Hyacinth's choice of words for her own guests. "I'm a waitress. Believe me, you don't need money to act entitled."

"So true," she agrees. "I waited tables in college, it's a rough job."

"I think people only appreciate that kind of work if they've done it," I smile.

"Hard-working, beautiful, and smart?" Hyacinth quips. "Why can't my son meet someone like you?"

I cough through a nervous laugh. 

"You alright?" Hyacinth grows concerned. "Do you need some water?" 

"Hey, that's my line!" I hack as she bursts into a boisterous laugh that echoes off the windowed alley walls of the Opera House. 

Then, Hyacinth stubs out the rest of her cigarette on the pavement.

"I should get back inside," she sighs, slightly exasperated before her expression lifts into a knowing smile. "I hope I see you again, Moira."

For whatever reason, Hyacinth's kindness gave me a much-needed boost of confidence. So, I squared my shoulders and called after her. 

"Ms. Smithe?"