Teacher's Pet

Chapter Twelve:

Katie Fox:

His jade green eyes investigated mine, intensely, the curiosity evident on his face, slightly masked by an expression of discomfort.

"Right," He started, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, "uh.. I guess I don't really know where to start..." He looked down, making me swear I saw shame flash across his face, for a brief moment.

"Where does your head tell you you should start?" I asked, taking his hand in my own, giving it a small squeeze. My reaction was so instinctive that my mind was, only now, processing what I'd just done. My eyes widened, slightly, in shock, my hand quickly letting go of his.

He took in a slow breath before saying "How did you get hurt the other day?"

I was in shock, not expecting him to ask me that, of all questions, especially after the events of today. Trying to come up with an answer, with so many thoughts and questions, of my own, flooding my mind, I realised something. And I knew what my answer was going to be:

"Right now, that isn't important," a knowing smile crossing my lips.

"Just tell me," he spoke, his voice somewhere between an order and a beg, his eyes going darker with irritation.

"But that's not really what you wanted to ask me, is it?" I interrogated, my gaze locked onto his. Shock flickered in his eyes, momentarily, as if he realised I knew the question that was currently eating its way around his brain - the question he was so afraid to ask me.

"You can defend yourself," he stated, confidently. My smile grew, slightly, as he got closer to the question that was lingering his mind. I sat up in my seat, my shoulders relaxing, now that I knew what direction this conversation was heading, for certain.

"I can," I said, flatly, nodding in agreement. "Why does that interest you, so much? And how did you know?" I pushed, urging him to get to the point, at hand.

"Because," He started, straightening his back and placing his hands neatly, on the table, in front of him "I saw your hands - they were balled up into proper fists, not like the awful fists you see most girls attempt. You could've stood up for yourself, today, at school. But you didn't... why?"

A small smirk jerked across my cheek. Now we were getting somewhere. I thought I would be too afraid to ever tell anyone the truth about me, that nobody else had even come close to discovering. And yet, I wasn't even nervous. In fact, I was somewhat invigorated by the idea that I was finally telling someone, and leading the life he did, he had enough secrets of his own to be able to keep one of mine. "Because..." I started, "enough people at school already think I'm a freak. If they knew the truth about me, it would only prove what they already believed." He looked at me, with understanding in his eyes, pausing to figure out how he should respond to what I'd just said. But I wasn't done yet. "The truth is, that if I stood up for myself, if I unleashed my anger, well I'm not sure if I could stop - I could end up really hurting someone."

Sadness enveloped me, temporarily, at this, the fear that he'd think I was a freak and would want nothing to do with me, taking over. I was expecting him to just get up, walk away and leave me there, all alone. I was expecting him to never want to see or speak to me again. So I definitely wasn't expecting him to say "Where did you learn to fight?" recognition sparkling in his eyes.

Looking down, a mixture of sadness and shame covering my facial expression, I answered "my father."

He seemed confused, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips creased into a slight pout that made him look really sexy. I shook my head slightly, trying to eject that thought from my mind. "Look," he started, his voice soft and caring "I was going to help you today, but when I saw your hands, I realised you didn't really need help." he was quiet, pausing for thought, the voiceless air still and piercing my ears. "How did your father learn?"

Tears threatened to prick from my eyes at the thought of the job he used to have, and the monster it allowed to become today. I gulped, trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat. "He used to be a professional cage fighter." His eyes widened at my statement, realisation crossing them as it became clear how I'd learnt to fight and how skilled my fighting would be, as a result of the teacher I had. But it all counted for nothing, if I could still regularly be beaten to a pulp, by my fighting teacher, no matter how good I was or how strong, with no one there to help me.

This is it, I thought if I'm ever going to tell someone the truth, now is the time. "He stopped fighting about seven years ago, when my Mom died." I'm doing it, I thought, tears springing to my eyes at the memory of my mother, the days of missing her all coming back to me at once. Alec surprised me, holding my hand, gently, and rubbing small circles on the outside of my palm.

"Around about the same time was when he took up drinking," I said, feeling his hand tighten around mine. Looking up, I saw rage clouding his now darkening green eyes, the sparkle I was becoming used to seeing in them, now gone. "My arm, the other day," I clarified, "that was him." He let go of my hand, suddenly, the warmth gone and cold taking over. His face was crumpled. He was irate and his eyebrows arched upwards, slightly, revealing pain. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have told him. He's so angry, now.

I felt like my lungs were closing and I couldn't breathe. I needed to get some air, I needed to get out of here, right now. And that's exactly what I did, jumping up from the seat and running outside, bracing my arms around head, my hands on the cold brick wall on the outside of the diner. I leant my head against my chest, closing my eyes and trying to focus on my breathing. I was sure Alec had probably driven off into the distance, by now, not stopping to look back, but then I felt the indisputably familiar warmth of his palm against my shoulder.

Standing up straight, looking up into his once again sparkling green eyes, the wind blew in my direction, a bitterly cold feeling spreading across my cheeks and nipping at my skin. I was crying? Looking into his eyes, he looked so torn, like he didn't know what to do. My breathing was becoming faster and heavier, threatening my lungs to hyperventilate, teardrops falling onto my white blouse from my cheeks. I raised a hand, ready to wipe away my still falling tears, when he took a step closer to me, placing his hands on my cheeks and using his thumb to wipe my tears away. I hadn't looked away from his face, this whole time, our eye contact constant.

Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around me, my face flush against his chest, his head resting on top of mine. The warmth of his body mingled with mine, the shock of him embracing me now fading, making me feel comfortable enough to wrap my arms around his toned waist, tightly. Our heartbeats falling in sync with each other, my breathing normalising, I took a small step back, meeting his eyes with mine. His eyes stared deep into mine, his hand caressing the left side of my jaw. His eyes fell to my lips, my breathing picking up speed, again, but for a whole other reason, now.