Forbitten

Chapter 8

I barely sat still for the entirety of Calculus. I had Religious Studies next and class ended in three minutes. My heart pounded as I counted down the seconds and Mrs. Nita finished her lesson.

Mr. Papa Smoke advised me to take action and do something about the spark between Mr. Yoi and me, or at least I think he did. No matter what his intentions were, I had to talk to Mr. Yoi. My sudden confidence surprised me. I had never been one for confrontation and now I could barely wait.

When the bell rang, I jumped out of my seat and floated out into the hallway where Terry was waiting for me.

"Come on, we have to get there before anyone else does!" I ushered Terry down the narrow hall as he looked confused. The break between Calculus and Religious Studies was five minutes and I knew it would fly.

"Why are you going so fast, Mos?" He asked me, letting me drag him along.

"I have to talk to him, Terry," I began to slow before I stood in the hallway. Numerous students passed Terry and me with utters of annoyance under their breath. My newfound confidence began to ooze from my body and fear replaced it.

"Mos, if I know one thing, it's that I know you can do this. Come on," Terry said, gripping my hand in reassurance. I followed him despite the ache in my head and the tension on my shoulders from my backpack and the nervousness in my stomach. I followed my friend because I knew I had to.

We arrived to the classroom empty, except for the angel-like man shuffling papers at the large wooden desk in the front of the room. Terry did not follow me into the room, but rather shut the door behind him. At the click of the door meeting the frame, Mr. Yoi looked up. His surprised face turned to one of embarrassment, matching my own.

"Mos, class doesn't start for another three minutes," he said, looking down at his golden watch. I stayed at the door, not wanting to move any closer. The nervous butterflies in my stomach seemed only to amplify from before.

"I know... I-I need to talk to you," I responded. He did not look up. Instead, he flipped through the papers on his desk aimlessly. I knew he was busying himself.

"Do you need help with the curriculum again? I can help you with that."

"You know that's not why I'm here, Mr. Yoi." Did I imagine a spark that was never there? Was he just trying to be nice and I read too much into it, no matter how much Terry egged me on?

"There's no other reason for you to be here." He finally looked up and his face had hardened. His gorgeous eyes were not as expressive as they usually were and his plump lips were turned down into a frown. His desensitized expression irked me. Why was he pretending to not know what was going on?

"You know what I want to talk about! The talent show, the flowers, the k-kiss!"

"Mr. Aedes, enough!" Mr. Aedes. Suddenly, I realized my coming here was a mistake, just like that kiss. I felt tears prick my big eyes and rushed towards the door to leave, at least until the bell rang. Terry looked worried through the glass panel in the door. Even Terry knew we had gone too far.

"Sorry, Mr. Yoi," I said.

"Mos..." He pushed away from his desk and walked towards me. He was so close, and I could feel my face growing redder by the second. "See me after school."

And with that, the bell rang.

- - -

If I thought Calculus dragged by slowly, the rest of the day could not even compare. Terry noticed my wistful look and did not attempt to small talk with me, which I appreciated. I could only focus on Mr. Yoi. Was he just going to tell me to buzz off? Or maybe...

I shook my head. I could not get my hopes up. At the end of the day, he was my teacher and I was his student. That would not change, not for a vase of flowers, not even for a kiss. It hurt me to admit that, but I, at least, owed Mr. Yoi peace.

Not to mention, I owed myself peace as well.

- - -

For the second time in this short school day, I stood in front of the door belonging to the man I adored. Terry, however, was not with me this time. Elan and Matt had picked him up to bring him to his annual check-up. I had to walk home alone today.

I breathed in deeply, hoping that would help the urge I had to throw up or run away or both. Then, I knocked. The wood reddened my knuckles enough to cause me pain.

"Come in," I heard his voice call from inside. I deeply inhaled one last time before turning the knob and walking into the warm room. The sun filtered through the windows and landed on the cream tiles. I could see particles of dust float through the air and move when a small gust of wind blew through the screen. And then, I looked at him.

He had run his fingers through his hair often enough during the day that his hair had become messy, like he had just rolled out of bed. He was not wearing his glasses, he had loosened his tie, and he had unbuttoned the first button on his shirt. He looked absolutely delectable.

"Mos, I'm sorry about earlier today. I was... I guess, scared," he spoke. He was scared? I could barely believe it. I was not the only one who struggled to breathe earlier today.

"It's alright," I responded. I walked past him and rested in the sunlight streaming into the room. It heated my cool skin and helped to calm me down the slightest. I could feel him staring at me, but I did not meet his hazel eyes.

"No, it wasn't. You didn't deserve that." Both of us remained quiet after he spoke. The sun continued to warm me and I used it as a distraction from what I knew was coming: a rejection. But, when he spoke again, it was not what I was expecting. "Mos... I don't regret what happened."

Surprised, I met his eyes. They looked at me with a gleam of shame in them.

"You don't?" I barely whispered.

"Of course not, but I'm in a... sensitive situation. You know what we are to one another; teacher and student," he responded. I suppose I had undermined the true delicacy of being in love with my professor.

He walked away from his desk and towards me in the sun. Once close enough, he placed his hands on my shoulders, his skin warming me even more than the sunlight. Sparks erupted under his palm and I wished I could have stayed like that for the rest of my life.

"But," he said, before continuing, "seeing you here, right now, with the sun glistening off you like you're a messenger of God..." My breath halted in my throat. This was not a rejection. No, this was... "I think I'm willing to risk it."

"You don't care about what I am?" I whispered. How could he not care?

"What you are? Mos, what are you not? You are beautiful," he placed a kiss on my cheek. "You are kind," he placed a kiss on my other cheek. "You are sexy," he placed a kiss on the lobe of my ear, and then whispered to me: "And, I can only hope, you will be mine."

And, suddenly, his lips met mine. The soft, redness of his lips collided with mine and my heart surged. I worried my chest was going to burst or the butterflies in my stomach would escape, but I could not stop.

I was certain, so certain, he was going to push me away, tell me it was too dangerous. But, now, in his arms, I could not guess why he would ever worry about danger when whatever it was that was between us was this amazing. I wanted to keep going, but soon, he pulled away. He chuckled and smiled sweetly at me.

"What if I get you a coffee, Bright Eyes?" He asked with his arms still wrapped around my small body. I could barely nod fast enough.