Bitter Sweet Blaire: Teacher/Student Romance

Chapter Ten

10.

A/N: I haven't edited yet because I just wanted to get this update up, so italicised words are in capitals. Hope you enjoy, there's definitely a wealthy supply of wit in this one (;

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He was good. Like, actually good.

"I never said I was bad," Christian said, extending his hand out to me.

"No, you said you weren't much of an asset and that I could laugh at you if I wanted. I haven't laughed once in this game. Make me laugh, Nerd." It was a friday afternoon and Christian had stuck to his word, as I had with mine. He had walked to Wyatt's school with me to give him girl advice, and I had agreed to take him up on his street hockey offer.

"I hope you're not a sore loser," I had told him on the way to Wyatt's school.

"Please, I'm Canadian," he shot back. "We're not sore loser material."

"Did you just mock yourself?"

"I can take it better from myself than from you."

I regarded him for a second. How had I never questioned his origins? His sister was from New Zealand; why wasn't he? And why was he the only one with the accent?

"How are you the only Canadian in your family?"

"Derik was Canadian," Christian explained, referencing to his father by his first name. "He despised his parents for reasons I didn't know of, and was off on student exchanged in New Zealand the first chance he got. He lost his accent I guess. I was the opposite. We lived in Canada until I was eight, then we moved to New Zealand when Miranda was born. As soon I was old enough to despise my father, maybe fourteen years old, I moved back to Canada with my grandparents."

"Oh," I mumbled. "Why'd you move back?" He looked down at me, though I didn't give him the satisfaction of returning it.

"You sure do ask hard questions, Ms Romero."

"Stop calling me that," I groaned. "Ms Romero."

"I enjoy winding you up," he admitted, and this time I was the one to exchange a glance with him--and he was the one to look away.

In response, I pretended to be hurt, while I jumped onto Riley's bike--the one we'd be giving to my brother--and rode off down the street. Christian protested behind me, laughing as he ran after me. I made it to the school gate and climbed off the bike, leaning it on its stand.

"Hey, gumbo!" I called out, waving to Wyatt, who'd just run out of the gate.

"Blaire!" BWAIRE. When he saw Christian standing next to me, he froze in his tracks, cocking his head to the side nervously. When the twenty-five year old realised he was being watched, he turned around, his chin dropping to just above his chest as he regarded my brother underneath his eye lashes. He was...nervous.

"Why's Christian here?" he asked, taking a few steps forward.

Christian's right arm crossed his body to latch onto my sweater, saying, "Maybe I shouldn't have--"

"Christian has something he'd like to give you," I announced, making Wyatt grin from ear to ear. I turned to look at Christian, whose eyes were big and boyish. "Go on," I muttered, but he looked even more helpless, taking a few careful steps toward me, not letting go of me. I guess some people were nervous around kids they didn't know.

I bit my lip, before pushing the bike into my brother's eye sight. "It was Riley's, but Christian asked if you could have it."

"Is it for me?" Wyatt asked, directing his question at Christian, who was still mute. I touched his arm uncharacteristically, something I'd never done due to personal discomfort--but his need for security overpowered my disliking for touch. This earned me a soft smile, and amazingly enough I didn't feel like I was about to vomit.