An Unlikely Reunion

Six

Yes, I had wanted to talk to him. But where would I even start? There were so many things I needed to say. I ended up saying the first thing that came to mind. The thing that had made me angry in the first place.

"That comment about the poetry slam was uncalled for."

Mr Chevalier smirked. "That's what you wanted to talk to me in private about? My, my, Claire. You really are still bothered by that?"

I crossed my arms. "Of course I am. It was the single most embarrassing moment of my life."

He chuckled. "If I recall correctly, you won that poetry slam. Who exactly was that poem about again?"

I blushed. So he had figured it out. I'd always hoped he wouldn't be able to put one and one together, but, clearly, he had. "None of your business."

"If you say so. Was that all? I'd like to get back to finding out who I'm coupling up with in about... three hours," he said coldly.

I was going to leave it at that, turn around, and go back to Martin. But my mouth began talking before I could stop it. "What exactly did I ever do to you?"

He looked at me as if in disbelief. "You're not seriously asking me that, are you?"

"Yes, I am. I need to know why you hate me."

A dry laugh escaped his lips. "Hate you? I don't hate you, Claire."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"I'm pretty sure you were the one who started it," he said and started walking away.

"So what? You may no longer be my teacher, but you should still be the more mature person," I called out after him. He didn't turn around but kept walking. "I was hurt, Mr Chevalier," I added quietly.

I didn't think he'd hear me but he did. Slowly, he turned around to look at me. "What?" he asked, his voice trembling ever so slightly as he took a few steps towards me again.

"I... I was hurt. When you didn't turn up to our last meeting... and never made an effort to reschedule... I'd wanted to tell you then."

"Tell me what?" he asked, standing right in front of me now.

I looked at the ground. "Does it matter anymore?"

"Claire," he whispered, lifting his hand to touch my cheek, but stopping just before he reached it.

"We'd gotten along so well. I thought... even if you didn't feel the same way... you'd at least want to say goodbye," I said, still not looking at him. Tears welled up in my eyes as I revisited the memory of me waiting by his classroom door for over an hour, hoping he would eventually turn up. He never did.

He sighed. "There was nothing I wanted more. But... I was ill... you know that..."

I finally looked at him. He seemed equally as sad as I was. "Then why didn't you message me?"

"How could I have? I had no idea you would want me to."

I furrowed my brows in confusion. "I thought you knew who the poem was about?"

"I... are you saying... it really was about me?" he asked. "I always hoped, but... I never actually thought..."

I shook my head. "Who else would it have been about?"

"If you truly felt that way... why didn't you contact me?" he asked.

I huffed. "I wanted to. I wrote a million texts but always discarded them. You let me wait for over an hour... that message was loud and clear."

"You waited?" he asked, obviously shocked by that revelation.

"Of course I did. I..." I took a deep breath. "I was in love with you, Mr Chevalier. Madly."

Before I could process what was happening, he'd buried his hands in my hair and pressed his lips to mine. Without a second of hesitation, I kissed him back hungrily. I'd waited so long for this.

After a couple of seconds, we parted, both out of breath.

"So was I," he finally said. "And, by the way, I think you're meant to call me Ian now."

I chuckled as a hundred butterflies fluttered about in my stomach. "I'll try."

"So... are we good now?" he asked.

"I'm still mad at you for bringing up the poetry slam," I said.

He shook his head at me. "For what it's worth, I don't think anyone cared that your nervousness blew your first attempt. Not after that outstanding performance... of an outstanding poem."

I smiled. "You really thought it was that good?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about it for months."

"Good," I said with a grin.

He laughed. "That was your goal, huh?"

I bit my lip. "Maybe?"

Once again, he shook his head. "You're really something, Claire."