I Think I Like It

I expected a lot of stuff to happen the next day. I had English very first thing, so it’s not even like I could prepare myself for what might happen. Still, I had some ideas; some of which made me blush profusely, and others that made my stomach turn. Still, I entered my English classroom with a feeling that was akin to excitement. Much to my surprise, everyone was already seated when I came in, and looked up at me.
“Oh. Sorry I’m late.” I said, turning to Mr. Way. He smiled nonchalantly.
“No problem, I was just reviewing what’s happened in the book so far.” He said, not even looking at me. I lowered myself into my seat slowly, not quite sure what was going on. Of all the things I imagined, him acting like nothing had happened at all was not one of them.
“Sorry, Anna, you were saying?” he said, turning his attention back to one of the girls. She gave a brief (yet weirdly accurate and detailed) synopsis of what had happened, and he treated her to one of his heart-meltingly beautiful smiles. I felt jealousy burning in my stomach.
“Thanks Anna, that was great.” He said, beaming at her again. She blushed and turned away, and he shook his head, laughing a little bit as he returned to his deck. He picked up his copy of the book, flicked through it a couple times, then set it down again.
“I don’t wanna read today. I think it’s a bit boring for everyone if I just sit here and read. Am I right?” he said. The class laughed and he smiled and nodded, understandingly.
“Got it. So, how do you guys want to approach this then?” he said, leaning his head on his hand.
“I think maybe if you summarized it, and then we worked through it like that, I’d get it better.” Chris said. Mr. Way laughed and ran his hand through his hair, and the movement made my stomach drop.
“So you want to read the book without actually reading the book?” he said, smiling. Chris nodded, and he laughed again.
“I think you’re onto something, actually. How about I write you all a short synopsis of the story, and you we can decide, as a class, the parts that are most important, and look into that deeper” he said, obviously proud of himself. Everyone nodded and agreed but I, feeling a childish anger, refused. I looked down at my desk, my blood boiling. Okay, sure, I didn’t expect him to grab me when I walked in, but how is he acting like everything’s okay? It’s almost like yesterday never happened.
“Okay, let me just run to the computer room and type up some synopsizes, and I’ll hand them out to you when I get back. Until then, just…work.” He said with a shrug as he flitted towards the door. Just as he got there, he put a hand on my desk roughly and leaned in towards me.
“I think you should come help me.” He murmured softly. It wasn’t sexual – more apologetic. I rose to my feet, hopeful that he’d take this opportunity to explain himself. I mean, if he regretted everything and wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened, that was fine, but I just needed to know what the fuck was going on. Three days into my crush and my head was already spinning.

The walk to the printer was silent, yet Mr. Way seemed unusually cheery – more so than usual. He looked over at me a lot, but never spoke. Honestly, he was making me want to punch him in the face, and it was difficult to keep my frustration in. When we eventually got to the printer room, he herded me in and locked the door behind us, leaning on it casually.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” he said. For once, there wasn’t any special emotion on his face, like anger, or sensuality, or even a particular smile. It was just his teacher face, and it made me even angrier. How dare he treat me like I’m just another kid.
“I think you know.” I muttered, keeping my eyes down. He sighed and loosened his tie self-consciously.
“Frank…I don’t know what you want me to say.” He said, seeming genuinely lost for words. I sighed and looked up at him, hoping that my frustration was apparent on my face.
“I just want you to explain this to me. Help me understand what the hell is happening.” I said, tears filling my eyes. I looked down because I’ll be damned if I was going to let this fucker see me cry.
I thought he was going to give me some bullshit excuse. But, apparently, he was up for surprising me today.
“I don’t want to talk about this. It’s inappropriate, and frankly, it was a mistake. If you continue to try to talk to me about what may or may not have happened, I’ll have to take action.” He said, his voice curt. I stared at him, open-mouthed. I definitely wasn’t expecting that.
“Action like what? It’s not like you can tell anyone.” I said through clenched teeth. His eyes widened in surprise, and the corners of his mouth twitched.
“I can’t tell anyone that a student kept making inappropriate sexual advances towards me? That a student exposed himself to me? That the same student tried to blackmail me? Really, Frank. I think I can tell anyone I want.” He said, his tone patronizing. He tilted his head a little and smiled, as if I was some damn toddler.
“You fucker.” I spat.
He didn’t respond, instead going towards one of the computers and beginning to type. My heart pounded in my ears – who was he writing to?
He noticed my discomfort and looked up through his eyelashes, rolling his eyes at me.
“I need to actually write those synopsizes, Frank. Stop being so paranoid.” He said casually, his hands going back to the keyboard. I turned away from him, and took the opportunity to wipe the tears from my cheeks.
“Jesus Christ.” He sighed suddenly. I turned around and saw him resting his head in his hands, breathing deeply. He lifted his head and looked at me, tears in his eyes, and shook his head.
“That’s not how I wanted this to go down. I…damn, Frank, come here, honey.” He said softly. I made my way across the room to him, still wary. He took my hand gently in his and smiled up at me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to…be weird about it. I thought the best thing would be to act like things were normal, you know? Give us both the chance to ignore it.”
“No offence Mr. Way, but that plan sucks balls.” I laughed. He smiled and chuckled, running a hand through his hair.
“I guess it did. I’m sorry.” He said sincerely. I nodded and smiled back, feeling warmth despite my frustration.
“What do you want to do, then? How can I make this easier on you?” he said.
“Make what easier?” I asked suspiciously.
“Forgetting about this.” He said bluntly. Oh. I chewed my lip.
“I don’t know. I guess I can just try to ignore it.” I said softly. He shook his head and squeezed my hand.
“Don’t be silly, Frank. You’re a person, and you have feelings, and I hurt them. That’s my fault, and I’m sorry. Tell me how to make things okay.” He said, his voice sounding vaguely desperate. I looked away from him for a second, trying to collect my thoughts, before I managed to reply.
“You can’t. It’s just the way I am. I find something, and I dig my claws in, and I won’t let it go. This is no exception. You are no exception. I’ll just hold on and hold on, and nothing you can do can fix it. It just…is. And I have to be okay with that.” I said, letting the words pour out of me in a rush. He just stared at me in solemn silence, letting the words sink in and, hopefully, realizing that I was right. He reached up, as if he was going to touch my face, then let his hand fall back down to his side.
“This is really, really fucked up.” He laughed, and I couldn’t help but laugh with him.
“I’m sorry, though. If there’s anything I can do to make this up to you…” he said. I nodded and, hesitantly, so he could pull away if he wanted to, put my hand under his chin, pushing his head up lightly so I could see into his eyes. He pouted a little and sighed.
“I wish I could…” he said, but dropped his eyes before the end of his sentence. I nodded anyway – it’s not like I didn’t know.
“Me too.” I whispered. I pulled my hand away slowly, reluctantly, and sat at the large table in the middle of the room, letting him get on with his work.
“The lesson’s nearly over.” I pointed out. He smiled and laughed weakly.
“Yeah. Everyone’s probably already gone.” He agreed.
“I guess we should just wait in here.” I suggested and, to my delight, he nodded. I twisted my hands in my lap, building up the courage to ask him a burning question.
“Mr. Way?” I said tentatively. He looked up and smiled softly.
“If we could…do this. Would you?” I asked. He pursed his lips and looked down at his clasped hands.
“I…don’t know. I think so.” He said. As much as I appreciated his honesty, his uncertainty stung.
Before another regret could be made, the bell signifying the end of the lesson rang. He smiled at me and stood up, walking towards me slowly.
“I guess that’s our cue.” He said softly, helping me to my feet. He held me at arms length for a moment before pulling me into a tight hug. I buried my face in his shoulder, holding him tightly to me and breathing in his scent like I needed it to live. It occurred to me later that this was the first time he’d ever actually hugged me, and it felt good…right, like I was meant to be there, as cliché as it sounds. He pulled away and smiled at me.
“C’mon Iero, can’t be late for your lesson.” He chuckled.

In exactly a week, I’ll be 18. One week from now, and I’ll be with all my friends, drinking at the lame school Halloween party that gets thrown every year, and getting so drunk that one of us gets carried home. Within a matter of months, I’ll be leaving school, and I’ll never have to see him ever again. Within a matter of months, I’ll never see him laugh or smile, or that cocky smirk of his ever again. Never again will I see the cold heat in his eyes, or tremble, desperate for him to be closer to me, to even brush me with his finger tips for a quarter of a second.
Within years, I’ll forget him and his damn eyes, and the way he talks out of one side of his mouth, and the feeling of his hands on mine, or his chin under my fingertips.
He’s a speck of dust in the universe that is my life. He’s a small, dull spot of light. Why, then, does it feel like he’s lighting up my sky? If he’s only a star, why is my Earth rotating around him? If he’s not the moon, why is he moving me so much? If he isn’t my oxygen, why can’t I fucking breathe? If the sun hasn’t imploded because he’s gone, why is everything so goddamn dark?

Notes