2.0 The Chronicles of Us - Shame & Blame

Chapter five

*♡  Ellie ♡*

How did I end up here?

Life is supposed to move forwards, not backwards. I never thought I'd be here again. For a reunion, perhaps, but not for an education. I was done, graduated with a piece of paper I never intended to use. What a sad reality.

I sigh deeply and park my mother's car on the same spot I did for years. Right behind the bronze statue of Brenton the Brave.

It's a bit of a stroll, but a welcome way to clear my belly of nerves. Faroaks doesn't have a college of its own. The slightly larger town of Brenton is only a forty minute drive away and houses a fine enough institution. The east wing of the red brick building is under construction. Some ladders and paint buckets decorate the halls of knowledge I'm hurrying through. I don't like to be late.

However, I am the first one to arrive, so I take a seat up front. I place my pen and notebook on the small desk and wait for the teacher. More students enter the room and sit down. The seat next to me stays empty. That's okay, I like to keep my focus.

A middle-aged man with mud stains on the knee parts of his jeans greets us. "Welcome, class. My name is Matthew Harrison, but you can call me Matt." He writes down his name on the whiteboard in impressive calligraphy. "I'll be teaching you a thing or two about—"

The door creaks open. "Is this by any chance photography class? Apparently, the one with all the pottery wheels and ugly clay pots is not."

The two girls to my right giggle over their shoulders, so I take a curious peek as well. A man my age stands in the door opening. Maybe he's the model? I mean, he looks like he just came from a photoshoot for Men's Fashion. An oversized woollen coat with a loosely knitted sweater underneath and a pair of perfectly fitted jeans clad his tall frame. He's handsome, incredibly so.

It's just an observation. Butterflies don't appear, my thighs don't throb and my mind remains entirely decent. Good to know my heart is not easily bamboozled by a pretty face.

Our educator snickers and waves him in. "Take a seat."

Oh no.

No, no, no.

The latecomer casually walks my way, eyeing the empty seat next to me. And worse ... he just gave me a cheeky wink! I'm not ready for human contact. Especially not with a stranger. Quickly and quite rudely, I hide behind a curtain of my own hair and keep my eyes on Matt, who's boasting a little about his time In South Africa as a wildlife photographer.

" ... And that, dear children, is why meerkats are the world's biggest assholes." Everyone chuckles, so I join them even though I completely missed the story. Matt pulls down the projector screen and says, "I'm going to show some pictures and I want you all to tell me what's wrong with them."

I silently listen as some of the other students come up with answers about bad lighting and weird positions. Matt clicks a button and the next picture shows. It's an intimate portrayal of lovemaking. Two tessellated bodies, but nothing too improper. It's beautiful, actually. Expect for one thing ... "It doesn't look real," I suggest, slightly uncomfortable with hearing my own voice breaking the silence. "There's no true passion."

Matt nods and smiles. "It seems you are one of the lucky ones who knows what real passion is. You are absolutely right." He continues explaining the importance of emotion and how to capture it. With a bright red face, I take notes. It wasn't hard to notice what that picture was lacking. All I had to do was remember the way Tex used to look at me when I lay naked before him.

Don't cry.

Don't cry.

"Hey, I'm Jonathan."