Chapter Fourteen

9.6K 324 19
                                    

Short chapter :/

____________________________________________________________

Josh’s POV

The panic I felt on Monday was unnatural. And it only snowballed up until Friday.

What was wrong that she had to take a week off school? Was she okay? Was her father giving her more trouble? I had gone out on a limb to ask if Nicole if she knew anything, trying to be casual about it while prying more than your average teacher. My phone shouted at me every time I saw it, and I fought the urge to text her every five minutes. Maybe something had happened, something bad, and she was too offended by what I had said, or too stubborn to text me about it. What if she was hurt, with no one to take her to the hospital? What if she was already in the hospital, and I didn’t even know?

I had given in on Wednesday and text her, just a simple “Are you okay?” but I didn’t get any sort of response. Nicole apparently had text her nonstop, but didn’t get a word in response either. I was jumpy, irritable and handing out detentions like pedophiles do candy. I kept an eye out every time my last period entered the room, but I never got even a glimpse of her black fringe and heavily-lined eyes.

Today was the worst day. If she didn’t come today, I didn’t know what I would do over the weekend. Probably break down the door to her house to make sure that she’s okay. Bring her home with me and hide her away with me where no one could hurt her. Of course, I was tempted to do that anyway. It was a completely inappropriate thing to think, what with out positions, but I couldn’t help myself.

Maybe I really was too young to be a teacher. There was only a four year gap between me and the majority of my oldest students, and only three between Cynthia and I. It was too easy to forget that I was her teacher.

Friday night flashed into my mind. That’s when my fatal flaw was realized. I was so happy when she texted me. I had practically been pacing around, worry about her. I never knew what to think now that her father was around. On Friday I hadn’t even considered him capable of breaking her hand, and I realized now that I probably should have worried more. I was still worried though, and her text relieved all of that. I was on cloud nine for a little while there.

But in the end… We had been flirting. Or, I had.

I sighed, tipping myself back in my chair, and glaring at the ceiling.

My first class came into the room and I let them loose with the watercolors. It was funny how not a thing any one of them made (and some of them were pretty talented) could live up to the simple network of lines that Cynthia had created.

“Sir?” one of the student’s voices broke me out of my contemplation.

“Mr. Ross,” I said, giving him a sideways glance. “You want anything in particular?”

Ross – I couldn’t remember his first name – shifted uncomfortably. “I actually need to switch periods,” he said, smiling nervously. “I have schedule conflicts, and it would be more convenient if I was in your last class, rather than first…”

“And you’re telling me this why?” I asked, his mention of my last class instantly bringing Cynthia to the front of my mind, as if she wasn’t already there.

“Uh… I mean, you’re the teacher,” Ross stumbled uncomfortably.

“I don’t really care, Mr. Ross,” I told him honestly. “You’ll have to speak to some people in the main office.”

“Would you mind if I went now…?” I shrugged and wrote the kid out a pass, kicking back in my chair again.

I stuck to my room during my free period, lost in thoughts that revolved mainly around one student.

Love Me Anyway (A student-teacher relationship)Where stories live. Discover now