Beautiful Torment (6 page)

Whatever that hell means.

Screw that and screw him!

I couldn’t even tell you what happened in chemistry. I was so focused on my notebook the entire time that when the bell rings, I’m caught by surprise. Still, I’m the first one out the door.

I walk into public speaking earlier than usual, but the room is already full. Everyone loves the class and all are eager to get here.

“Nick!” I call as I take my seat behind him. He turns around and I watch his eyes widen at my new look. “Hannah and I are going to the movies next weekend. If you want to come, we can all go.”

“Yes!” He shouts, practically bouncing off his chair.

“It’s not a date,” I confirm. “Hannah is coming too,” I remind him, just as Hannah enters the room. She waves to us and we both smile.

“It is,” he answers, still looking Hannah’s way.

“It’s not,” my face falls flat and even. “It’s
really
not.”

“You look pretty with makeup on,” he changes the subject, really looking at me now.

I actually smile, relieved that at least one person can have a normal, nice reaction to me.

I stay after school for math, since I totally failed the last test. Luckily, anyone is allowed to make it up, as long as we go through it in its entirety with Mrs. Stalling. There are twelve other people here, and that’s just today.

I’m clearly not the only one who doesn’t get this shit.

When 3:10 hits, I’m practically skipping out the door. I stop short in surprise, for as soon as I turn the corner to head back upstairs, I run into Mr. Harrington and Mr. Chevy. They’re standing in the middle of the hallway talking, with the entire boys track team lining the walls along the floor.

A few of the boys catch me skipping and laugh, and Mr. Harrington looks my way upon hearing the noise, pausing mid-conversation.

“Luci,” his smile is guarded. I give him a brief nod as I re-hoist my backpack over my shoulder and continue walking. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

The entire boys track team “ohhh’s” and “ahhhh’s” until Mr. Chevy’s burley voice quiets them. I give Mr. Harrington a look of approval as I continue past him and up the stairs.

Normally, I would go straight and to the left, towards the main entrance, but he caches me wavering and clears his throat.

“To the right,” he orders as I reach the top step.

I do as I’m told, not stopping until I reach his classroom.

The hallway is empty and quiet, and half the lights are already out. He walks past me and opens the door. I catch a whiff of his spicy cologne as he flips the light switch, swearing to myself I’ll go to the mall this weekend just so I can figure out exactly which one it is.

“Come in,” he stops just before the platform to his desk.

“I should get home,” I confess, leaning against the doorframe.

I hear footsteps behind me and peek around the door. It’s the girl who boldly touched his arm that time. She approaches, popping her head into the room.

“I thought you couldn’t stay after school today,” she smiles at him.

“I couldn’t, Madison,” he states plainly. “I have track practice.”

My heart swells over how differently he regards her than he does me.

“Luci just had a quick question and she normally can’t stay after,” he explains.

I offer the girl a small wave upon hearing my name, but her snobbish glare leaves me feeling unwelcomed.

“Oh,” her remark is short and crisp. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning then!” She flashes him a big smile before tossing her hair over her shoulder in some sort of grand exit.

“I should get going too,” I’m a little discouraged after seeing this girl, who clearly stays after school with him on a regular basis.

“Wait,” he holds up his hand and reaches forward to nothing. “You didn’t do well on your quiz today.” He lets out a small laugh before running his fingers through his hair. I want to desperately do that - run
my
fingers through
his
hair, down his neck, to his back, feeling him all over. “In fact, you did terrible,” his voice brings me back down to earth. “Even after I gave you a hint.”

“Yeah, bad day I guess,” I shrug.

“Yeah,” he agrees and my fists automatically ball. I’m either so mad I want to punch him or I’m desperately trying not to reach out and touch him. Probably a little of both.

The way his face suddenly falls instantly saddens me.

“Or maybe I’m just trying to do terribly on purpose, so I can stay after school and get help too,” I joke, my absurdly jealous jab at that Madison girl.

He laughs, breaking into one of the biggest grins I’ve ever seen.

“You’re trouble,” he shakes his head and we stand in an awkward silence for what feels like forever.

“Well,” I sigh. “I guess I should go.”

“Okay,” he swallows. I start to turn around to leave when I notice his hand shooting up again. “Wait,” he stops me. “I feel like what I said earlier came across a little strange,” his eyes turn fierce and extraordinary. “When I said you’re great the way you are,” his voice trails off and he closes his eyes and scrunches his face, like he’s struggling. “What I meant to say is… that I think you’re really beautiful.”

My mouth falls open and my heartbeat quickens. I can feel my pulse throbbing in my wrists and neck, so much so that I think I may combust.

“And I mean that in the most
appropriate way possible
,” he laughs, opening his eyes again. They radiate a blue, like the color of the most perfectly clear sky. “But maybe I should just stop talking to you before you turn me in or something.”

I look to the other side of the door and down the hall, making sure no one else is coming. “Turn you in?” I cross my arms, amused.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs nervously. “I mean it in a friendly way.” He exhales loudly and I try to silently tell him that this is
perfect
- that he’s perfect. “I sometimes get to know my students as friends,” he stammers on, pausing again. “Um, this is coming across very poorly.”

“So then it’s typical for you to call your students beautiful?” I can’t help my beaming smile.

“God, no!” he hesitates. “I’ve never said that to any of them before.” He’s nervous, no longer meeting my eye. “Um, maybe I should go.”

I don’t have a chance to respond before he’s brushing past me and out of the room. I watch as he briskly walks down the hall, my mouth too dry to call after him, my legs too shaky to run.

What the hell just happened?

I shake my head, trying to make sense of it all before I shut the lights followed by his classroom door.

I slowly make my way out of the school, and to my car, already replaying his words over and over again.

LUNCH

I get to school early the following day, overflowing with a fervent desire to see him. The light under his office door bleeds into the otherwise still dark hallway and I hesitate before knocking.

“One minute!” He shouts and I can hear rustling on the other side.

It’s a few seconds before he finally opens the door, but when he does, he’s surprised to see me.

“Luci,” I can’t tell if his astonished expression is a good one or not.

“You, um, left yesterday rather abruptly.” He doesn’t respond. “Can I come in?”

He’s still quiet, and I take it as a sign that I’m not welcome. “It’s okay, never mind,” I start to walk away.

“Wait, Luci,” he sighs and moves to the side. “Of course you can.”

I’ve never seen the inside of his office before. It’s small, with counters and cabinets along the perimeter, and a small island in the middle. There are no bottom cabinets along the far wall, allowing for the counter to act as a desk. He pulls out his cushioned desk chair and offers it to me, before going to the other side of the island and grabbing a stool for himself.

“About yesterday-”

“Can we please just forget about it?” He interrupts me.

That’s the very last thing I want to do, but I nod anyway, trying to mask my disappointment.

“God you have to make everything so difficult,” he murmurs.

“Sorry,” I mumble, trying to cheer myself up. I think he’s upset, mad even, but when I look up he’s smiling, leaving me even more confused. “It’s not like you said anything bad,” I state calmly, wanting him to know
it’s okay
. I pause, waiting for him to say something, and when he doesn’t, I take a deep breath, too anxious not to ask this for myself.

“I have to know…” It comes out as a whisper. He’s scared by what I’m going to ask, nervous; I can see it in his eyes. He doesn’t stop me though, so I continue. “Did you just say that to try and make me feel better?”

He’s staring at me, maybe even gazing. I swallow hard and he slowly starts to nod his head no - he didn’t say it just to make me feel better,
he meant it
.

The first bell rings, and I take it as my cue to go. I got what I came here for, hell, I got the answer I came here for. The halls will be crowded in no time, but I don’t want to leave.

“Since you did so poorly on your last quiz,” he clears his throat and bends down, picking up my backpack and handing it to me, “I thought maybe you could use some extra help.”

“Okay,” I can’t help my smile as I take my bag from him. We both know I don’t need the extra help.

“Your lunch period is the same as mine?” He places his hands in his pockets.

“Yes,” I bite my lip answering, remembering running into him yesterday during that time.

“Good,” he smiles. “So I’ll see you then.”

I buzz though the day, counting down the hours until lunch. I don’t even bother going to the cafeteria, and make some lame excuse to Chloe as to why. I have to stop at my locker before I meet Mr. Harrington, and I see two people going at it from down the hall, praying it’s not
my locker
they’re locking lips in front of.

As I get closer, I realize it is. The girl is pinned right up against it, the guy carelessly exploring her mouth with his tongue. It looks like a gross, nasty, sloppy kiss.

“Hey!” I shout.

They must have thought I was a teacher, judging by the way they jumped back so quickly, but as soon as I see her face I’m stunned. “Oh my god, Gracie?!”

“Hi Luci,” she mumbles, and I can’t believe it. I caught my sister making out with… ew,
Derek
? He’s such a creep!

“What are you doing?” I demand.

“What does it look like we’re doing, buzz off,” the pimple-head demands before laying his hand back on Gracie’s ass.

Her face is a mix between lust and embarrassment.

“Hey now,” I shove his hand away.

“Luci,” Gracie pleads.

“Get back to class, Gracie,” I command.

“Who the hell are you?” Pimple-head starts freaking out.

“Take your hands off my
sister
, or I will fuck you up,” I pronunciate each word at an unnaturally slow pace.

“Whatever,” he shrugs, pulling away from her. “Gracie, you’re sister is fucking crazy.”

“Derek, wait!” Gracie calls, torn between if she should follow him or stay and talk to me.

I win; he’s already too far away.

“Luci, I can’t believe you!” She turns back to me, pissed.

“Gracie, that kid is nasty,” I tell her. “You could do so much better.”

“It’s none of your business!”

“Luci?” Mr. Harrington walks up behind me. “Everything okay?” I ignore him, too focused on my little sister.

“Who are you to judge me?” She shouts. “I hate you, Luci! You don’t even know me, so stay out of my life and leave me alone!”

I watch as she runs down the hall, stung by her words.

Mr. Harrington is silent as I trade books in my locker, slamming the door hard with anger. We walk to his classroom quietly, and I sit in my usual seat, watching as he pulls a chair up to the other side of my desk.

“Do you want to-”

“No,” I interrupt.

“I have a sister too,” he offers.

“I know,” I watch as he opens his brown paper bag lunch. “She’s my English teacher.”

“Right,” he laughs. “Well, we’re twins… fraternal,” he sighs. “It’s not easy when they want to be friends with your friends, or
date
people you hate. Hell, it’s
still
not easy.” I don’t say anything as he continues talking, trying to help. “I know the feeling of wanting to take care of them, and how annoying it can be when they don’t listen. I practically got Debbie her teaching job here, and she
still
won’t leave me alone,” he smiles.

He takes a bite of his sandwich. It’s cut neatly down the middle, like his Mom made it or something. Or maybe he’s just that dorky and makes it like that for himself. The thought makes me smile.

“Want some?” He offers the other half to me and I shake my head no. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” I shrug.

“Okay, Trouble,” he sighs and I bite my lip to stop my smile from getting out of control. He called me that the other day too.

“Trouble?” I raise my eyebrow in question.

“You
did
almost start a fight in school,” he’s chuckles. “I believe you were going to
fuck him up
, your words, not mine,” he holds up his hands, as if excusing his bad language. Still, the way he says
fuck
makes me tremble. I can’t help the thought as it pops into my head:
Yes, let’s do exactly that.

“Oh my God, shut up,” I playfully kick him under the table, embarrassed over what happened, and now humiliated over the fact that I just kicked him
and
told him to shut up. What the hell is my problem? He’s a teacher! A figure of authority, and here I am inappropriately blurring those lines!

I’m relieved when he doesn’t seem to notice, or care, and falls right into the conversation.

“What?” He replies with a mischievous look in his eye.

“Just how much did you see back there?”

“Oh the whole thing,” he’s serious in a joyously frisky way. “You’re pretty cute when you’re tough.”

I don’t want to draw any attention to his endearing words and have another
beautiful
incident on our hands like yesterday, but I’m bursting inside. I look down and smile before meeting his gleaming eyes.

“And what would your defense have been?” I’m curious. “The teacher who idly stood by and watched it happen?”

“Please,” he makes a face. “That gangly kid? I wasn’t worried. He wasn’t going to touch you.”

I laugh at his absurd confidence. “And if I was the one to start something?”

“You could take him,” he says, clearly fighting a smirk. “Looks like he deserved it anyway.”

“Seriously!” I agree. “She could do so much better!”

“Definitely,” he concurs before taking another bite of his sandwich.

Before we know it, the bell rings. The sound of it hums in my ear as I’m brought back to the real world. Did thirty minutes already pass?

Our most recent easy and carefree conversation only makes me crush harder, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, if he feels the same thing too. He rights the chair that he pulled up opposite me before throwing out his paper lunch bag and stepping onto the platform. I hear the screeching of the chalk against the blackboard as he writes, waiting for the empty classroom to fill up.

“We should do this again,” I almost don’t hear him over the scraping sound.

I’m squealing inside.

Yes!!

He eyes the door, no doubt waiting for people to start walking in.

“Unless it would be too weird,” he turns around, relaxing after meeting my smiling face. “I didn’t even help you with your quiz.”

“I definitely have some questions you can assist me with,” I beam and he nods happily.

Perfect, this is exactly what I need to feed my obsession.

And it does.

For today was only the start of how we began eating lunch together on the days I have lab. Chloe and Ashley think I go because I failed the last chemistry test, but little do they know, I passed with flying colors.

The past couple of weeks Mr. Harrington and I have fallen into this easy-going pattern. Every other day, just after the final bell for sixth period rings, I usually catch him on his way to the main office. He always stops me in the hall, just to tell me he’ll be right back, like I don’t already know.

He goes into the office and checks his mail, and I head to my locker, which is right down the hall. He then meets me there, and we walk together to his classroom.

Sadly, for me at least, everything has been completely innocent and friendly. We mostly talk about what I’m currently reading, and he tells me about the races he runs in his spare time. When he asks if I ever run, I laugh and confide just how uncoordinated I really am. We joke about it, and I all but explode as I teasingly form a non-existent muscle, and he actually
feels it
before quickly pulling away.

He always stops when there’s even a hint of flirting going too far, and I can always tell when it’s on the horizon, because he regards me with such scrutiny. It’s annoying though, because whenever I think he may
actually like me
, all I’m proven is wrong. It’s never awkward, and we always immediately return to being normal, but shit, do I want it!

Just like a few months ago at the fire drill, we get into discussing our best-loved movies, debating what’s good and what’s not. We recite lines from our favorite TV shows, and argue over the correct words, since he always swears it’s one thing and I say another.

I call him a geek when I catch him with a science trade magazine, and he counters when he finds the honors English syllabus I’m secretly following, teasing me that he’s going to tell his sister.

We bicker because he’s a Met’s fan and I’m into the Yankees. He asks about my family, and I finally learn about his (he has his parents and just the one sister, no other siblings). While he obviously loves them, it sounds like they don’t get along very well. He eventually discloses his dislike for them; apparently, his parents are pretty wealthy, and because of this, they’ve tried to control his choices in the past. The thing is, he wants to make a name for himself on his own, doing what he loves. The same goes for his sister too. I’ve never admired him more - the way he talks and considers everything, it’s unbelievably commendable.

He swears me to secrecy as he reveals information about this robot he’s building for some science competition next year, and I nod like I know what he’s talking about until we laugh.

It seems no matter what, we always go back to books, because we both happen to share a love for reading, especially when it comes to Tolkien.

But despite all this, Mr. Harrington still remains a big mystery, and there never seems to be enough time to get it all in. To discover and digest all that is
him
.

He continues to call me trouble every now and again, and that’s exactly what I’m starting to believe I’m in, because my harmful crush has officially turned into a full-blown like.

I dread all weekends, but this weekend, the foreboding is stronger than usual. I already cancelled once after I invited Nick to the movies with Hannah and I, and as Friday comes to a close, I fear I just have to get it over with.

Welcome to my Saturday.

I’m zipping up my hoodie when Gracie pokes her head into my room.