As far as I knew, Mr. Way was still angry with me because of our 'confrontation' the day before. He hadn't replied to any of my texts or even bothered to call me back. That was fine with me – maybe I'd actually get some work done in his class today.
Granted, these last few weeks he'd been good at not distracting me, and I thought I'd become more productive, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous to see him for the first time since the dance. It almost seemed like it was another person, and I wasn't sure that the words were true after he took the mask off, as stupid as it seems. Now, however, was not the day that I was going to get answers because, as I already explained, he was acting like a 12 year old.
I was walking to school, the building in sight, even through the fog, when I got his text. At first, I thought it was my normal phone vibrating, but when I realized it wasn't, a chill ran up my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. I was tempted to ignore it, but I thought that, since I had him first lesson, it might be less awkward if I at least read what he had to say.
FROM: Gee.
(8:16am)
Come to my room 10 minutes before class, please. We need to talk.
My heart hammered in my chest and I felt my hands shake as I slid my phone back into my pocket. Shit, had I really upset him that much? I could understand why it was a sensitive subject, sure, but 'we need to talk'? Surely I didn't deserve that. Those words were, in my mind, reserved for cheaters and backstabbers and someone who slaughtered your family in front of you, and certainly not for someone who made an innocent comment. My plan to ignore him caved as I found myself pulling my phone out and texting him back.
TO: Gee.
(8:19am)
What 4? Am I in trouble????
He responded almost instantly.
FROM: Gee.
(8:20am)
Yes.
I gulped, feeling suddenly hot despite the cold. It couldn't be that bad, right? It's not like we were dating, so he couldn't dump me. The worst he could do is say that he didn't want to be doing...whatever it was that we were doing anymore. I guess that'd be okay. I mean, I'd survive, even if it made my English lessons a little bit awkward.
Well, more awkward than they were going to be anyway. I was almost certain that making out with and essentially getting dry humped against the wall by your teacher was enough criteria for his lessons to be awkward, you know, just a bit. The school got closer, and my footsteps got heavier as I felt myself slowed down by the shaking in my legs. I could barely stand, let alone walk, I was so fucking nervous and I didn't even know why. I willed myself to keep walking, reminding myself that I was supposed to be in school five minutes from now, and that if I didn't get in on time, I wouldn't have time to talk to Mr. Way before the lesson started, and then he'd definitely be pissed. I sped up a little bit.
As it happened, I ended up outside his door at exactly 8 minutes before my lesson with him started, my legs still shaking, and my hands sweating so much, it took me a couple tries before I got the door open.
He didn't look up when I came in, but I knew he'd heard me. I closed the door behind me and walked slowly over to his desk. He looked more disheveled than I was used to, his hair rumpled and sticking up in places, and soft bags under his eyes. I chewed my lip, feeling guilty.
After what seemed like a life time, he rolled his head up so he was looking straight at me with his tired, bloodshot eyes.
"Are you okay?" I said quietly. To my surprise, he smiled a little and nodded, rubbing his eyes.
"Yeah. I had some stuff to do last night. Didn't sleep." He said, his voice gravelly.
"Oh. You wanted to talk to me?" I said, trying to get him to jump straight to the point. He raised his eyebrows and nodded, as if he'd forgotten.
