Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
When I entered James’s classroom for fourth period, he was jotting some notes down on the board about the Romantic era.
I hoped—wished—for a moment that he hadn’t read the pages I’d given him. That he’d gotten busy, or lost them. I didn’t really want that, but it was a fantasy I could cling to for the sake of the kid in me, whom I was trying to protect not just from James, but the world.
He glanced over his shoulder, to the door, as if he’d had some psychic impulse that had alerted him I’d arrived, but I figured he might have just been glancing over his shoulder from time to time, knowing I would be there soon enough, and we’d have to have a moment to discuss what I’d offered up to him.
The expression on his face was softer than usual, and I detected enough in it to know he’d read it. Because of course he had.
I didn’t want his pity, but at the same time, what kind of person would he have been if he’d read that and not felt some?
I did my best to offer the sort of smile I might have on a regular day, but that was nearly impossible. I could barely fake a smirk in his direction.
Since before I’d gotten to class, I’d assumed the lecture might be as awkward as so many of our exchanges had been, but there was something about knowing what bits I had managed to get out and into his head. Even when he glanced at me, I could feel all his support, his kindness, and some intangible quality I couldn’t put my finger on.
After the bell, when I stopped by his desk, we gazed into each other’s eyes.
“I can’t imagine you want to discuss this here,” he said.
“Not really, no.”
Once again, we were reminded of our limitations under these conditions.
But I didn’t want to be at school when we talked about everything I’d shared.
“How about Wednesday?” he asked. “We’ll probably be just as packed full of volunteers for the library as usual.”
“Wednesday would be good. Maybe you could give me a ride there and back?”
He thought on it for a moment, as though deciding if that would be appropriate.
“Even Coach Williams had to give me rides back when I was playing football.”
As he chuckled, he must’ve seen how much he was overthinking us, but I didn’t blame him. There was so much to overthink. “Yes, of course.”
Surely it complicated matters that we both knew what we were doing was wrong, but to the rest of the school, we were just teacher and student. Hell, he was the married teacher who had acted so straight, I hadn’t suspected he could have even been capable of being attracted to me, let alone what we were doing.
In truth, the time between having handed James those pages at the party and when we talked about them was helpful in giving me a chance to wrap my thoughts around it all, to brace myself for an encounter I hadn’t allowed myself to have, not even with myself.
“Kyle… I told you, I won’t tell anyone these things you’ve shared, but you really should at least talk to the guidance counselor.”
“Oh, which one? Mrs. Grames or Miss Chewer? I can talk to them. They’ll recognize me from Saturday services when I was a kid. If not them, maybe a local therapist like Dr. Kramer or Mr. Spears? Funny, I know them through Dad too.”
I saw the moment of realization in his expression, when he understood exactly why this had been so hard for me. “I get what you mean.”
“Welcome to Wyachet, Teach.”
His gaze shifted around the room. “I’m sorry you’ve had to carry this, Kyle. But I didn’t say that because I planned to share anything you gave me in confidence. There are other ways you can get help. You don’t have to do this on your own.”
“I’m starting to realize I can’t do it on my own,” I confessed, enjoying even just the relief that he knew…that someone fucking knew.
The world felt different to me.
A secret revealed lifted a veil of fog in my mind, as though making the world around me, particularly James, appear sharper than ever.
Even though it was just a crack of the door that I’d opened for him to see, God, what it had done for me. I was relieved when Wednesday afternoon came and we were finally walking down the hall together, to his car.
Despite what I would have to discuss, I enjoyed walking alongside him like that, knowing there was so much more between us than anyone else could have figured. When we reached his car, I slid into the passenger seat, recalling the last time I’d been in there. Feeling as though I’d taken it for granted and wanting to memorize that new-car smell…and just a hint of that familiar scent of his cologne tickling at my nose.