Till Eternity (teacherxstudent)

Chapter 11: Friday

In comparison to the rest of the week – or month – Friday was peaceful. Way too peaceful for my suspicious mind. I managed to enjoy a book during morning break without being interrupted. Well, at least the only distractions came from within, as I occasionally peeked at the door, expecting for Mr. Jones to come smirking out of it. But he never came. Not that I wanted to see him, it is nice to having a bit of peace after a while. However, I could not help wondering if it was because of what happened yesterday with the principal. Later, during class, I observed him as he cheerfully engaged with the other students. Our eyes hardly met, and I was back to wondering if I was invisible. Whenever his eyes did lay upon me, they did not dare linger, narrowing as quickly as they averted to some other face. It dragged me back to thinking about his confession. Perhaps it was all just a lie after all.

“Deborah!” I was startled at the roaring sound of my voice. “Can you repeat what I just said?” Mr. Jones glared at me as if holding a grudge that made me so despicable in his eyes. “Did you hear me?”

My lips zipped shut and my eyes gaped in bewilderment. All eyes were on me, and they all snickered at my embarrassment. It did not last long, however, for Mr. Jones immediately halted them. This confused me even more. If he really hated me, he would let them tease me all they wanted. But, why is he acting so cold today? I don’t understand.

“I expect to see you in this room during lunch.” he brutally said under a grunt. Everyone cooed, surprised at his ferocity and amused at my infliction.

What the –? What did I do to make him so mad?

After that, he went on with the class as if nothing had happened. Once class was over, I was forced to stay behind. Mr. Jones had to close the door to keep out the peeping bullies. He lectured me and berated at me for not paying attention and not participating not giving me a chance to defend myself or ask him about his jerk-like attitude. To be honest, I hardly paid any attention to what he was saying. My thoughts were mostly focused on his narrowed eyes, furrowed brows, and senseless barking. Without having the opportunity to throw in as much as one word, I was sent to the next class, wishing it would not end so that I would not have to go back into that classroom with the feral beast.

However, to be honest, that was the first time that I truly realized how different he usually was from the others. Mr. Jones is the only one whose eyes truly soften and fix on me as I speak, listening intently to every word without interrupting. He is the only one who smiles genuinely and laughs at my stories and my jokes and not at me. My chest tightened. Thinking of this made my eyes water and, even though I was in class, I hugged my arms tightly and began sniffling. I interrupted the class and excused myself from the room. On my way to the rooftop, tears rolled down my cheeks as I frantically wiped them as I could not understand why the thought of him was hurting so much. As much I tried to fight it, images of him kept flooding my mind. The way his warm and gentle embrace comforts me whenever I have a fight with my mother, the way he can talk endlessly about science or anything he is passionate about, the way we can discuss books for hours on end, and the way he looks at me… Can someone really fake that? But if was truly genuine, then why is he suddenly acting like this?

As I flung the rooftop door open, the wind rushed against my face. Among my hair flowing across my sight, there he was, leaning against the fence lost in his thoughts. His pensive state was interrupted as soon he laid eyes on me. They were pained and protective eyes. There is no way someone could fake that. Seeing the genuineness in those eyes, I was immediately sure. The narrowed eyes that stared down at me with such hatred were not real. I had noticed it earlier as he scolded me, but only now did I truly acknowledge this truth. The attempted look of enmity occasionally flared with a light of regret and agony. Acting was something Mr. Jones was never good at – for this, Mr. Emerson and I used to tease him. But why would he pretend to hate me out of the blue? Could I really be sure of this conclusion?

I approached him haltingly. MY feet did not seem to want to, but my mind was set on getting through to him. As I did so, his expression hardened and my pace broke. He was the one approaching me now as all I could do was stand frozen wondering what was going on in his mind.

“Why?” This word escaped my lips in the form of a whisper I was not sure he could hear. But if he did hear it, he decided to ignore it, for he walked past me, bumping against my shoulder as if I did not even exist. He was acting like everyone else.

My heart ached and I could not take it any longer. I flung myself around as my face muscles – brows, teeth and all – clenched. “Hey!” I called out to his attention.

Mr. Jones immediately turned around with an expression that mimicked insult. It ignored it and yelled at him once more, “What’s up with the jerk attitude? Your acting like everyone else.”

His following expression made me immediately regret all my decisions. His eyes narrowed under dark brows, sharpening in horrid outrage. The slow and calculated steps he took towards me chilled my spine. Left stunned, all I could do was gulp. The moment my survival instincts kicked in and I took a step back, Mr. Jones grabbed my arm firmly, as if he were trying to hurt me.

“What are you thinking, acting like this towards a teacher?” His glaring eyes pressed down at me until I felt like ant before him. But I took a deep breath of courage before I was stepped on.

“Why?” I repeated. “You confessed to me, and I saved you from losing your job. So why are you acting so mean?” He did not answer, nor did his expression falter, thus I inevitably questioned my previous conclusion. “I thought you were different. I thought you cared about me. You always protected me…” The images of my previous daydream returned, though this time they came as shattered glass. Why does it hurt so much to see him act like this? I thought I did not care about him.

Still, not the slightest reaction came from him. At this point, I found it nearly impossible to hold back the tears that were desperately trying to jailbreak. The longer he remained in silence, the closer they were to succeeding.

“Was it all just a lie?” I squinted as I spoke, probing for any type of reaction. Anything. Even the slightest twitch of a nerve was enough for me at this point. “The confession, the kisses, everything… Was it all just an act?”

Still, no reaction.

The tears had now collected the confirmation they needed to break from their prison and flow though my burning cheeks. The more I spoke, the more they flowed. “Why aren’t you answering?” I pushed him, then grabbed onto his shirt in an act of desperation. “Please say something. Anything. I need to know… Was it all a lie?”

His eyes, filled with indifference, did nothing but stare at me straight on. I bashed his chest once more before closing my eyes tight and yelling, “You pervert! I hate you!”

Before I knew it, I felt a sudden warmth upon my lips. My eyes shot open to see nothing but the saddened eyes of a man that seemed to be fighting all his urges. The kiss was sweet and warm, and it quickly soothed me from my burst of anger and desperation. My body relaxed as he embraced me tightly and pulled me closer. With a fluttering heart, I felt a sort of craving I have never known before. Though, in the midst of it, I could not help but to examine his face. Why does he have such a sad and pained expression when just moments ago I was the most loathsome creature before his eyes.

Slowly, our lips parted. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“Mr. Jones…” Confused, I said his name softly. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I know.” his voice was gentle, as if he were now a completely different person.

“But… why?” No matter how calculations my mind did, I still could not make sense of any of it.

Mr. Jones exhaled deeply and his hands softened on my lower back, not showing any intention to let go. “I know that you thought I was annoying for teasing you, and that you wished I had never returned.” he paused, and I could not deny any of his words. “So I had to make you realize that you did not want me to stop. And the best way to do that was to ignore you, pretending I was mad. I knew it would drive you crazy and that you would finally think of me differently.”

His eyes, that had been fixed upon the ground, now stared into mine, and it felt like he was talking straight into my heart.

“It wasn’t easy.” he said with eyes that begged me to believe in him. “I couldn’t stand seeing the pained look in your face. I know it was stupid, and I was such a jerk, but it worked didn’t it?” I nodded and a warm hand caressed my cheek, clearing my tears. “I’m sorry for hurting you, I swear I’ll never do anything to make you sad ever again. I meant it when I told you I liked you, Deb.” He shook his head, turning back to me with the most determined look I have ever seen in his eyes, “I love you.”

Those words struck me like a lightning piercing my chest. I froze, but my mind was restless.

Mr. Jones then grabbed hold of my shoulders not letting go of my eyes. I somehow knew what he was about to ask, but I feared the question. “Please,” he said, “I need an answer to my confession.”

I gulped. With all that happened this week – not to mention the rest of the month – I cannot help it but feel confused. On top of that, I cannot possibly get around the idea that Mr. Jones is an adult and – as if that weren’t enough – a teacher. Maybe I need to remind him of that.

“But…” I averted my gaze, pensive, and scared he may sway me with his bewitching eyes. “I’m your student, we can’t--”

“Forget about that.” he immediately interrupted, knowing exactly how my mind always jumps to the rational first. “What do you feel?”

“I… I have no idea.” What am I supposed to say? It isn’t like this is some test I can ace by picking the correct answer. I don’t like being away from him, but how am I supposed to know if it is anything but friendship?

I glanced back at him, scared to see his expression. However, as soon as I did, I could not take my eyes off his saddened eyes. Mr. Jones forced a smile under a soft breath, his gaze fell onto the ground, closing as he took a deep breath.

“I understand.” There was pain all over his face which now exuded defeat.

Before I could react or even think straight, he had walked away and out of sight. I felt my heart sink deeply within my chest in a pain I have never experienced. I clenched my hands against my chest as I tried to figure out the exact meaning of this discomfort. Once a blow of the wind rushed through the garden, my burning cheek felt a strange chill. I touched it, only to realize I had been crying.

Why? I don’t like him that way. The more I repeated that phrase to myself, the deeper my heart seemed to dig. I clenched at my chest once more, desperately trying to wipe the never-ending cascade of tears. I have always known the answers to every test, if something is written in a book I immediately understand it, so why can’t I figure out something as simple and stupid as my own feelings. My mind and my heart seemed to be in a war that resulted in a confusion that was so incredibly strange to me. The more my mind denies any feelings, the more my heart retaliates by inflicting pain on my chest. Which one am I supposed to obey, and which one am I supposed to ignore?

A. Emotion

B. Rationale

My head hurt from the inability to pick an answer. The rule goes, ‘when in doubt, pick C’, but what if there is no third option? Okay, think. I closed my eyes and tried to silence the ruckus in my mind, searching for the answer within.

Suddenly, my eyes shot open. A whisper flooded my ears with the answer, and I was unsure of whether it came from my lips or from the wind. Before I knew it, I was on my feet and running down the stairs. My hands clutched onto the door knob to his office and twisted it open. Scanning through the room, it appeared like I was out of luck until I found him hunched over a stack of papers on the floor. His hair was messy, seeming as though a hand had rubbed it furiously. Once he heard the door, he looked around, standing up as soon as he saw me.

“Deb…” he sounded confused as if I were the last person he expected to see.

“I--” we both spoke at the same time, interrupting each other. He then signaled me to speak first.

“I…” I took a step forward, and this time it was he who faltered. “I’m sorry for taking so long to realize this, but… I mean… I’ve never felt something like this before so…” By this point I was rambling and his expression had brightened into a chuckle.

Mr. Jones took a step forward and decided to tease me, as if I was not torturing myself enough already. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

I blushed. My face burnt from ear to ear as I nodded slowly, pouting as I skeptically looked up at him. The grin I was scared of seeing spread right across me as he bent down to my height.

“Then say it.” he whispered, though he knew exactly what my answer was. I now began to doubt it was the wrong answer after all, and this was a test I could not bear to flunk.

“I like you.” I murmured, scared of telling him precisely what I wanted him to hear.

“Hm? What was that?” he played innocent as he turned his ear towards me. I pouted once more.

“I like you.” I said annoyingly, crossing my arms at this pest of a man.

“Like? Well, I like ice cream, I like wine… though I do like ice cream more than wine--" he mocked.

“Ugh, fine!” I grunted, shoving him as he burst into laughter. “I love you.” I mumbled once more. I swear, if he decides to play deaf…

“What was that?” he pressed his ear closer to me once again and I threatened to knee him.

My heart throbbed at the sound of his chuckle. I imagine it was exactly as the Greeks pictured Adonis. Noticing my mesmerized gaze, his softened and Mr. Jones took my head in his hands, leaning in for a kiss. It was loving and luscious, and I wished it would never end. I drowned in that tender embrace, feeling my hands rise up to his chest. Not even my touch could resist the chiseled features that had all the girls melting. He gently pulled away, planting a kiss on my nose, my eyelids, my forehead, and then returning to my lips. Once our lips parted for the last time, Mr. Jones smiled in a way that melted my heart. This was the confirmation of my A+.

“Right now, you’re making the cutest face.” he whispered. I noticed the pink shade on his cheeks and couldn’t help but smile and blush along with him. I had no idea he could be this adorable.

“Mr. Jones…” I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed as if I never wanted to let go. His strong and broad arms bound us and he rested his chin on my head. I felt a longing for something for something I did not know I missed. Though, the truth is that, I missed his warmth and his touch. Happiness flowed within me as the warm touch of the first sun after a long winter.

He pecked my head lovingly and tightened his grasp. “I love you.”

This can’t be happening… My boyfriend is the hot science teacher?