Beautiful Torment (3 page)

When my eyes leave the dreaded seat and finally find his, he’s smiling, beaming even, his chiseled jaw line stretching in a delicious way, and his pristine, pearly white, impeccable teeth almost glimmer. Nothing ever glimmers in the harsh, bland fluorescent light of the school. Yet here he is, radiating.

I bite my lip out of habit, as I make my way to the worst seat in the house, but for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I can’t help it but smile too.

Being in the front leaves me with no place else to stare except at Mr. Harrington.

I’m not complaining.

He's going on about filling out an index card he'll be passing out, but I'm too busy ogling to actually listen to the words themselves. His voice
is arrogant
as he talks, but his blue eyes light up in a gentle way. Even from a distance I can see their ocean color, so clear and mesmerizing.

I can’t help my eyes. They’re all over him. While he’s thin, he’s not skinny, and he definitely has muscles under that blazer of his. I close my eyes and imagine how firm his chest must be, and my breathing turns almost erratic. When I open them, I watch as he uses his hands as he instructs. I can’t help but flush crimson. They way they move, strong and firm, what would they be like
on me
,
all over me
?

Everywhere
.

Ugh.

As a teenage girl, I’ve done pretty well when it comes to
not
thinking about sex… until now. It suddenly seems natural, as the man before me eludes it, even in his dorky Dockers and tweed jacket; there’s something savagely magnetic about him.

I can already tell this is going to be a major problem this year.

I know I should hate him because of who he is -
a teacher
. Not to mention one that put me in the front row, but my thoughts are far from anything as
innocent
as hating.

I start doing the math in my head, trying to figure out how old he is. So say he did four years of college, and then another two getting his masters… that has to make him what? 25? 26?

A deep throat clears, snapping me out of my stupor.

Oops.

I’m supposed to take the cards from Mr. Harrington, grab one, and pass the rest back.

I should have been more careful when taking them from him, but he startled me and I accidentally brush my thumb against his.

Tender.

I almost leap out of my seat, my pulse raging from the contact as an electric current runs from the very tip of my finger straight to my heart. I look up, wide-eyed once again, meeting his narrowed gaze. He makes a face before quickly stepping back and over to the next person.

He had to have felt that too, and when he looks my way once more before retreating to the platform, I
just know
he did.

I take my card and pass the rest to the guy behind me before placing my chin in my hand.

What the hell is wrong with me?

With his back turned as he writes on the board, the class begins to talk in low whispers. Chloe tries to get my attention, but I ignore her, my mouth too dry to say anything even if I wanted to.

Mr. Harrington’s arm extends, causing his jacket to lift and exposes the top part of his pants, revealing my newest fixation - his ass. I sink into my chair blushing. It gets worse when he briefly turns around and catches me red-faced. I immediately start looking around the room, which isn’t the smartest thing to do in front of a teacher, but he doesn’t say anything.

Seriously, I have to ask again, what the hell is wrong with me?

The next time I look up he’s already looking at me once again. He raises an eyebrow and the action renders me breathless. I absolutely detest what my body does next. It’s automatic, how I have to squeeze my legs together in order to stop the ache between them from completely igniting. Oh how that one look of his will haunt me into the late hours of the night.

Embarrassed, I place head in my hands as I start to fill out the blank index card in front of me:

Name: Lucinda Cunningham (Luci) 

Birthday: December 18

Parent names: Sue and Jay

Phone number: 555-5555

Life’s ambition: To be happy

Next, we're told about the daily quizzes we’re going to have. I don’t groan when the rest of the class does in response to this, or when we’re given a sheet of the periodic table and are told to memorize it by next week for the first one.

He doesn’t look my way again, and when he gives out the periodic table sheets, he makes a point to place them on my desk, rather than hand them directly to me.

I couldn't be more thankful when the bell rings, and I dart up before the high-pitch sound even stops, the first to leave. 

“What's wrong with you?” Chloe catches up with me as we head upstairs for our last classes of the day, she has Spanish and I have public speaking.

“What? Nothing,” I sigh, out of breath.

“Okay, weirdo,” she bumps my shoulder.

“He's pretty young to be a teacher, don't you think?” I stop walking, anxious to see her reaction.

“Who? Mr. Harrington?” I nod, but she's too busy waving to others in the hall. “I guess,” she finally answers, “But who cares about a teacher, even if he is hot! Did you see Kyle? You are so lucky to be sitting in front of him! He got
way hot
over the summer. And you, my friend, get to pass papers back to him! Maybe you can talk to him for me…” She goes on and on, but I’m still shaking my head from her question. No, Chloe, I didn’t see Kyle. Unfortunately for me, I was too busy noticing our teacher.

I couldn’t tell you the first thing that happened in public speaking. Hannah tried talking to me and I nodded my head politely, having no idea what she was actually saying. Some guy sitting in front of me introduced himself, but my mind was totally elsewhere.

When the bell rings it catches me by surprise, and I run to my car, hoping to beat the buses and traffic.

I bang my head against the steering wheel as soon as the car roars to life, trying to get the stupid out. How the hell could I have such a reaction to
a teacher
? And where the hell is Gracie? When I was a freshman, I had to take the bus just like everyone else. She’s lucky I take her to and from school.

I continue to wait impatiently, checking my rearview mirror as the traffic builds up behind me, until I finally hear the click of the door handle.

“You need to be quicker!” I snap before hitting the gas.

I make it home in record time, already unlocking the front door before Gracie even gets out of the car. I head straight to my room, taking two stairs at a time. I scour my bookshelf for the large hardcover binding of last year’s yearbook. It takes me two hands to grab it, and I rapidly flip through the staff pages until I get to H.

I spot his sister first, whose first year teaching was last year, but my eyes immediately narrow in on the next picture: Joshua Harrington.

He started teaching two years ago, and also coaches the boy’s track team. Even though it’s only a black and white picture, it’s obvious his eyes twinkle. His smile alone makes my mouth water.

Mom suddenly barges into my room and I snap the book shut, like I’m doing something wrong.

“How was your first day?” She crosses her arms and I can tell she’s definitely mad about something. I didn’t even know she was home!

“I thought you were working?” Sure, it’s not the greatest response, but my heart is beating so rapidly I can’t think of anything better.

“I left early so I could be here when you girls got home from your first day,” she sighs. “Do you know that Gracie is very upset?”

“No,” I mumble.

“She’s crying. She says she ran into you in the halls twice today and you ignored her both times. None of her friends are in any of her classes and she hates school.”

“I didn’t see her,” I defend, and I honestly didn’t. “I hated my first day freshman year too. There are so many new kids. She just has to get used to it.”

“You know she doesn’t do well with change, Luci!” Her stern look bores into me. “Maybe you should pay attention when she’s in the hall and walk with her.”

I want to tell her that there are a million kids in the halls, and I can’t just spend my time searching for Gracie. It’s nearly impossible. But instead, I nod in agreement as Mom continues. “You two used to be so close,” her eyes start to water. “What-”

“God, Mom, calm down, I’ll go talk to her,” I discard the yearbook and huff past her into Gracie’s room.

SEPTEMBER 11

By the following Monday, I'm thankful to not only have survived the first couple of days, but the first weekend too. It wasn't nearly as hard as it usually is, and oddly, I didn't dread its end. In fact, I was looking forward to it with an unnatural excitement. I'm clearly going to far surpass everyone in these non-honors classes, I already received 100 on my first Spanish quiz, and today, I'm so prepared for the chemistry periodic table quiz that it’s not even funny. Bring on your stupid daily quizzes, Mr. Harrington, because I’m ready.

I try not to think about the strange desire I have to be good at science this year. Nor do I think about my teacher. Well, I try not to at least. I’ve downgraded my crazy first day reaction to nothing more than being surprised and shocked by his age. I mean, how many young and good-looking teachers do you find? I know I’ve never had the pleasure of staring at any eye candy during lectures in my school career thus far. It's a nice change that clearly caught me by surprise, and that’s all.

His hotness has nothing to do with the fact that I
really
look forward to his class.

Nothing at all.

Everything in life got put in perspective the following day. Not only for me personally, but also for the entire world.

On September 11, New York City, which is located a mere hour or so from here, faced... I don’t even know how to describe it…
devastation?

I remember everything from that day, down to what I was wearing. I don't think anyone will ever,
can
ever, forget.

I was in third period Spanish when I first heard. Someone came in and told Mr. Pearl, who in turn told us. We all thought for sure the pilot must have had a heart attack. Who flies into a building in the middle of New York City? We didn't know much more and went on with the day’s lesson.

By next period, in social studies, rumor had it a second plane had hit.

This was no accident.

I don't know what my face looked like, but I'll never forget the faces of those around me. Suddenly, an announcement came over the loudspeaker: All those whose parents work in Manhattan, please report to the attendance office.

My dad doesn’t make a lot in his small store, but I’ve never been happier that he doesn’t work in the City, like so many of my peer’s parents do.

Lunch that day was oddly silent, with so many people missing. I didn’t even get halfway through next period lab before another announcement came over the loudspeaker: We are all to report to one of the two gyms based on our last name. The school, the Country, is on lockdown, and we have to wait for a parent or guardian to pick us up. 

Mr. Harrington stopped his lesson as we all gathered our things to leave.

“Luci,” I meet his unusually warm gaze, so different than the typical annoyed looks I get. I’ve never seen him look so gentle, especially at me. “Are you okay?”

I nod, even though I'm not. None of us are.

I'd only later come to realize why he asked only me this. Why, despite everyone else also wearing frightened and sad looks, he only noticed mine.

I was so relieved when I ran into Gracie in the gym. Even though we haven’t been getting along lately, her hug feels comforting and familiar.

Dad closed the store early and came home to sit with us. We all watched the news until Mom made us turn it off.

"Enough," we're the first words we heard from her since we got home. 

This all feels like a nightmare.

There was school the following day, even though I was so sure they would cancel. I mean, how can we go to school? How can we go about doing something
so normal
and ordinary after something
so bad
and
tragic
happened?

No one cared about anyone's lack of having homework done. It was obvious no one did anything last night except watch the news. Some teachers tried to take yesterday’s events off our minds by continuing with their normal lessons, while others wanted nothing more than to talk about it.

We all couldn’t help but notice the empty seats, where it was obvious a parent worked in the city. How many were actually in the World Trade Center? How many loved ones were lost?

To this day, I don't understand how some teachers moved past 9/11 so quickly. At the time, I was furious at them for being so uncaring. How can one go about life after this? After so much has changed? What's the point? Does your silly lesson
mean anything
when bigger things are going on?

In the following days we were told to show no fear, and not to let this change us, or affect us. We have to stay strong. It all happened too quickly in my eyes. How can we simply get past this?

Because I can't.

I can’t move on.

Maybe this was the start of it - of me not being able to move on, or maybe I've always been like this - stuck on things after they happen. 

Never letting go.

By next Monday, everything is back to normal, or new normal, as I call it. Not quite the same as it was before, but how it's clearly going to be from now on.

Ms. Harrington is the sweetest of all. I can tell she’s sort of like me in that she has trouble moving past things. She always wants to talk and tells everyone that her door is always open. All of her students like her, and it’s easy to see why. She’s so easy-going and wonderful.

Meanwhile, I just try to understand why all I do is sit in her class and think about her brother. Is her door open to help me comprehend that?

In chemistry, we get our periodic table quizzes back and my face falls when I see my 98. I
know
I got them all correct! I study the paper with a confused look as I meet the big, red, circled -2.

I almost rip it to shreds.

I
did
get all he symbols right, but I spelled “sulfer” instead of “sulfur".

What the hell?!

This isn't English. Your sister teaches that! I shouldn't be tested on
spelling
. If he just
had
to point out my mistake, fine, but why deduct the two points?

Not even a month into school and adios to my perfect grades. Maybe I shouldn't even bother from here on out, but I tell myself September is too early to give up completely.

When the bell rings I nod to Chloe that she should go ahead without me. I’m going to voice my unhappiness to Mr. Harrington, despite not really wanting to because not only am I a little embarrassed, but because my weird attraction to him frightens the hell out of me. We’ve never really spoken one-on-one before. In fact, we’ve barely said more than a few words, even during class.

I take a deep breath, pushing my shyness aside and hoping my voice doesn’t crack. I watch as he gets up and starts erasing his writing from the overhead projection. His track pants make a swishing sound as he moves. He’s clearly coaching after school, and I hate how happy it makes me, knowing what his after school plans are,
like it matters
.

“The test was on the periodic table symbols, and I got them all correct,” I slam the paper onto his desk. He stops erasing and smiles. I bite my lip to stop from automatically gleaming too; because the way it makes him glow is so striking, I almost can’t help it. “It’s not fair,” I look away, proud of my confidence.

“Haven't you realized? Life isn't fair.” He’s cocky, not only in his voice, but in his demeanor too. My eyes land on the muscles protruding from his shirt and travel down his arms to his white knuckles, straining against the eraser, holding on tight. I imagine his grip on
me
, and I swallow hard.

“Do you not like me or something?” He suddenly has me feeling bold, saying things I would normally never say.

“Or something,” he chuckles lightly, and I know I don’t hide my surprised look very well.

“So you don’t?” I don’t what I am more - crushed, furious, or confused.

“It was a joke,” he shakes his head. “Why would you think I don’t like you?”

Maybe I’m imagining all his annoyed and intense stares during class. Outraged by my own absurd feelings, I roll my eyes.

“Never mind,” I whisper before turning to grab my things and go.

“You’re reading
War and Peace
?” His voice interrupts. Surely he’s seen it on my desk a dozen times by now. I don’t answer as he approaches his desk, picking up the paper I slammed down. He stares at it with an amused expression. “I didn’t think they read that in high school.”

“They,” I clear my throat. “They… don’t.”

“And yet you do?” He does that stupid eyebrow thing again that makes me melt.

“I like Tolstoy,” it comes out as another whisper.

He laughs. It’s a magical sound, causing me to hold my books a little closer to my chest.

“So the quiz?” I ask, just as the late bell rings.

“It stays,” he smiles.

“But it was a mistake! Spelling has nothing to do with the material that was asked!”

“We all make mistakes,” he shrugs as he hands the paper back to me.

There's no use in arguing with someone who won't listen, so I say nothing as I leave.

“Luci?” I stop, not having enough courage to turn back around and face him. “Do you need a pass to your next class?”

“No.”

I hear his loud exhale as I walk out of the room.

Public speaking has quickly turned into one of those classes I don’t mind at all. While Hannah was the only one I knew only a few short weeks ago, I’ve quickly become friendly with almost everyone. We all have. It’s different and more low key than any other class I’ve ever experienced. We have fun, Ms. Martin included. She’s a compassionate teacher and perfect for the subject, especially for someone as shy as me.

She doesn’t get mad when I walk in late, and I’m thankful. It’s probably because she’s too concerned by the flustered look on my face. She asks if everything’s okay and I nod before taking my seat.

Hannah and I sit next to each other in the last of the two rows on the side, and the guy who introduced himself on the first day of school is Nick. While he’s a resident bad boy, he’s actually really nice, and is constantly making Hannah and I laugh. It’s a welcome reaction from my previous, overly intense period with Mr. Harrington.

“You look hot today, Luci,” Nick says as we take our seats. 

“Thanks,” I smile, embarrassed.

The class hasn’t fully settled down yet, but Nick faces forward anyway, which is unusual for him. Hannah and I start talking, stopping when his voice interrupts us. “Do you want to go to a movie this weekend?”

I look over at him, but he’s still facing the other way. I meet Hannah’s eye and she mouths,
oh my god
. I don’t answer, because quite frankly, I’m not sure if he’s even talking to me or not. Maybe he meant it for someone else. God, I hope he meant it for someone else.

I roll my eyes and continue telling Hannah how upset I am about my chemistry quiz. I don’t even know why I’m talking about it. Maybe I just want to remember the way
he
looked at me, or the fact that
he just looked
. Or maybe it’s his voice I want that I want to savor, his stupid, pompous voice.

“Luci?” Nick turns around when I don’t answer. Shit, he was talking to me. And I have no desire to go to the movies with him. “Did you hear what I asked?”

“Um, yeah, sorry, wasn’t sure if you were talking to me or not. You sort of were facing the other way,” I laugh, feeling uncomfortable.

He doesn’t say anything, waiting for my answer.

“The thing is,” I try to find the right words. “I have this… thing this weekend.”

I don’t look at Hannah because I know she’ll be disappointed in me. Hell, I’m disappointed in myself. Sure, he gets terrible grades and is always being written up for something, but whatever, he’s a nice enough guy. And what am I doing this weekend, aside from go to bed early to fantasize about my chemistry teacher?

Yes, I’ll admit it. I look forward to that.

My dreams are getting steamier and my orgasms are getting more intense. So what?

I meet Nick’s waiting glare, feeling bad. His sweet face has fallen. “Um, maybe some other time though?” I offer.

“Yeah, definitely,” he smiles.

Phew, weird crises semi-averted.

After school, I drop Gracie and her friend off at home and drive straight to Dad’s store. I can’t just sit in my room and think about
him
, but my distraction is to no avail. I still find myself talking about the quiz.

“It’s a 98 honey, that’s great,” Mom assures me.