Beautiful Torment (4 page)

“That’s not the point. I nailed all the elements. It should have been an 100.”

“You’re stressing yourself out for no reason,” Dad yells from the back.

I start helping Mom clear off the counter, looking for something to do.

“Easy there,” Mom laughs at my frustration. I don’t realize I’m throwing the nails into their buckets too hard. I’m completely missing, causing them to splatter out everywhere.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “He was just so conceited when I approached him about it too. Like, what the hell got up his ass?”

“Should I put a call into the school?” Mom asks nicely, but her look tells me she doesn’t like my wording. “Or if it can wait, open house is not too far away. I can always bring it up then.”

“No,” I sigh. “Forget it. I’m just mad, that’s all.”

“Luci, you should go home and get started on your homework,” Dad yells, his head popping out from the doorway. “I also placed some college brochures on your desk.”

I sigh loudly. They never want me to work at the store, or hang out here for too long. It’s always about school and the future.

I linger a little longer, seeking any distraction I can get until they all but kick me out.

I pass the school on my way home, driving into the back parking lot, just to see if track practice is outside today. It is, and I watch from a distance as
he
runs on the track with a graceful speed.

IF YOU WANT TO GET TECHNICAL

During the next couple of weeks I make sure to copy down every single thing Mr. Harrington writes on the overhead projection, focusing only on the words on my paper.

I will myself not to think about how his hair looks today, or what he’s wearing, or his smooth voice, or his mouth as he talks. I don’t imagine his lips moving slowly over mine, or picture his strong jaw and soft tongue. Nor do I fantasize about tracing his cheekbones with my fingers while gazing into his sparkling eyes.

Ugh.

I try to focus on anything and everything that will take my mind off
him
, even down to whom my friends are crushing on, and other little insignificant things. I attempt to get into all of my classes - to treat them all the same, equally. Especially since, aside from chemistry, math is going to be the death of me. Although, for an entirely different reason.

I feel like the biggest idiot ever, because I understand nothing. Mrs. Stalling’s teaching style is terrible, and you know something’s wrong when I’m semi-understanding science over math, when I usually equally suck at both.

Ah, science.

I’m actually mildly successful at ignoring Mr. Harrington, until one day he goes ahead and throws off my small progress. Instead of sitting at his desk like he normally is when we come into class, he’s standing at the door.

“Hello ladies,” he smiles at Chloe and I as we make our way into lab.
He’s just as excited to see you
, the thought pops into my head before I can stop it, and I internally yell at myself for feeding this unhealthy, very wrong obsession of mine.

“Hey, Mr. H,” Chloe nods while I just smile.

We still haven’t gone to the back of the room - to the actual lab - so once again we’re at our desks. Since lab is only half the class, we’ve been allowed to pick our own seats, so Chloe and I sit next to each other in the very last row.

We’re handed a worksheet in which we have to find the answers in a textbook. We’re still learning all about the tools and things we’ll find in the lab, and are promised by the end of this month we’ll get to go back there.

The room is full of low whispers as Mr. Harrington makes his way around in case any of us have any questions.

“Can I go to the bathroom?” Chloe asks when he comes our way.

“Sure,” he points to the corner of the desk where his hall pass is.

I let out a laugh. I can’t help it, it just comes out.

“What?” he asks, fighting a grin as he sits in her seat. We haven’t really spoken since the day I stayed late after class, which didn’t exactly go well.

“It’s just, for a grammar stickler such as yourself, I would have thought you would have corrected her,” I put my pen down, still stuck on the fact that he took points off of my quiz
for spelling
. He smiles, raising an eyebrow in question as I continue. “Since, as I’m sure you know, the correct way for her to ask would have been, “
May I
go to the bathroom.” I’m fighting a smile now too, biting my cheek.

He chuckles, his eyes lighting up from my obvious entertainment. I couldn’t imagine his look if I tried. My heart starts racing as my blood boils with excitement. I realize it’s October, but will someone turn on the air conditioner, because holy hell is it hot in here?

“
Can I
is the ability to do something, and
May I
is asking permission,” he says, licking his lips while shaking his head. He leans in close and electricity shoots into the room. My breath hitches from his proximity, filling my nose with a spicy scent that suits him. I gaze into his eyes before moving up to his long eyelashes that any girl would be jealous of. “You have to get over the two points,” he whispers, and I nonchalantly graze my own tongue against my lips, licking them, because he’s just
so delicious
. I suddenly can’t help but wonder what he looks like naked. How defined and hard his muscles are, how thick is happy trail is,
how thick
he is
.

Shit.

Someone calls his name and I all but jump. Mr. Harrington clears his throat as he gets up. “Thanks for the lesson, Ms. Cunningham.”

I catch another whiff of the spicy cologne in his wake, and absent-mindedly lean in closer to Chloe’s chair, inhaling more of his luscious scent.

“Need some answers?” Chloe asks, returning to her seat.

“Ugh, yeah,” I blush, embarrassed to have been caught doing something so stupid. What am I supposed to say? Nope, just trying to
smell our teacher
?

The next day, we’re not even fifteen minutes into second period when the fire alarm goes off. We’ve been inside for P.E., because it’s been so unusually cold, even for October. Unfortunately for me, because we’ve been in the gym, I’ve been wearing a T-shirt and shorts.

With no time to change, we’re ushered outside, my sneakers crunching against the leaves that have already started to fall to the ground, as the air jarringly hits my bare legs and arms.

I’m freezing my ass off.

We soon learn that this is not a drill, which means it’s going to take forever. It’s not a real emergency either, but just some idiot who pulled the alarm. Still, we have to wait for the firemen to arrive, and for them to search the entire school.

Did I mention I’m freezing my ass off?

Everyone starts talking as we wait, thrilled to be missing class. I begin to walk in circles, focusing on alternating the pressure from one foot to the other, desperately trying to warm up.

“And you’re wearing that because?” I stop mid-hop, my chemistry teacher standing directly in front of me, looking hotter than ever as his eyes travel up and down my body. His question catches me off guard, because how can he not see the others around us, also wearing their gym clothes, most in short sleeves and or shorts too.

“Gym,” I force a tight smile, praying my teeth don’t start chattering.

“Right,” he nods, finally noticing everyone else in the vicinity. “And I suppose it would be a little weird if I offer only you my jacket?”

“Probably,” I smile, looking down. The bumps on my pale legs reminding me just how cold I really am.

“I’m gonna do it anyway,” he shrugs off his blazer.

“Oh, n-,” I start to protest, but he shoots me a look and I shut up. “But what about everyone else?”

“I noticed you first,” he disregards the people around us, but I can’t help staring at them. No one has a coat, as they are obviously still in their lockers. Granted, most in other classes are wearing long sleeves or sweaters, except for those who are also in my gym period, but still. No other teacher is offering his or her jacket to anyone!

“Luci,” he chuckles at my weariness, and the sound of my name sends even more goose bumps down my arm. “It’s just a jacket. It’s really not a big deal.”

I take it from him and slide my hands through the sleeves; it’s warm and comforting. It even smells like him, and I try to be conspicuous as I inhale his mouthwatering scent. It’s like being enveloped in him, and really, what could be better?

“So how’s the book coming along?” He sticks his hands in his pockets, his blue button down further illuminating his eyes. His nose is turning red, and I feel bad that he’s now probably chilly.

“Napoleon’s army just occupied Moscow.”

“Ah, so you’re nearing the end,” he smiles.

“I don’t think it’ll ever end,” I roll my eyes and he laughs loudly. How can he be so kind and gentle now, yet most of the time regard me with such distaste, just by a simple look?

“Have you read it?” I ask, wrapping my arms around myself, feeling the smooth cloth of his blazer.

“A long time ago,” he confesses. “It’s not the best Tolstoy book, though.”

“Yeah,” I agree, staring at him intently. He’s like this huge, stunning mystery.

“What?” He asks, folding his arms.

“Nothing,” I shake my head. “Are you cold now?”

“Of course not,” he smiles, but I know it’s a lie. “What about you? Are you still cold?”

“No,” I’m still shaking my head; a million ways for us to warm up are running through it. I’d do any one of them. Or all. I’d do them all with him.

“Guess I’m stuck with you until the drill ends then,” he clears his throat as he looks around us, nodding to a teacher in the distance. “You know, because I have to make sure I get that jacket back.” His faces me again, his expression now annoyed, back to the glare I’m most used to. I flinch, and just when we were making progress too!

“I’m not gonna run off with it,” I scowl back. “Besides, you know where I’ll be eighth period.” He nods, and I’m kicking myself. So stupid! I have to think quickly, so that we keep on talking, so that he doesn’t walk away…. think!

“So what’s that new movie everyone is talking about? The one that came out the other week?” God, what a stupid thing to say!

“
Joy Ride
?” He asks, no doubt curious over my random question, his face still full of disdain.

“Yeah!” I exclaim. “I haven’t seen it yet,” I admit, wondering where the hell I’m going with this. “Have you?”

“No,” his expression lightens. “But, then again, I’m only into good movies.”

“It’s supposed to be good,” I counter, relaxing, because as each moment passes his face loosens more and more. “Besides,” I sigh. “What constitutes as a good movie?”

“Star Wars.” He’s so matter of fact and cocky. I want to hate him, but I laugh instead.

“How did I know you were going to say that?” I place my hands on my hips; his long sleeves are too large for me and hang over.

“What’s wrong with Star Wars?” He smiles, causing me to do the same.

“Nothing,” I shrug. “But I prefer Harrison Ford in the form of
Indiana Jones
.”

“Of course you do,” he laughs, and I don’t know where to look first - his mouth and the way it stretches and moves, or his eyes and the way they ignite. “And how did you know I’d be into Star Wars?” His smooth voice is laced with amusement, and I can’t help myself.

“Well, you’re clearly the sciencey type,” I wave my hands towards him, and he laughs again. It’s like music to my ears.

“Right, and what constitutes the
sciencey
type?” His grin is wide and his hips are swaying slightly. If I didn’t know better, I’d think we are
almost
flirting.

“You, being all into potions and chemicals, and weird sciencey stuff, like probably old body parts and-”

“And producing a mysterious spark,” he interrupts, continuing my sentence, his voice raspy and charmed. I smile and we both erupt with laughter. He clearly got my joke.

“I don’t create Frankenstein, contrary to popular belief,” he raises his eyebrow, and I take note on how it’s the first time he does this without some menacing context. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Damn,” I bit my lip, trying to contain my wide grin. “So what was the last movie you saw then?”

“Probably
Planet Of The Apes
, and okay, what’s with that face?” The way he’s still smiling does crazy things to me.

“Tim Burton?” I cringe.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“All of his movies look exactly the same!”

“He has a distinct look,” he argues. “Kind of like the one you’re giving me right now.”

I can’t help but laugh again, feeling like the idiot girl who’s standing in front of the guy she obviously has a crush on, who’s way out of her league.

“Well, I refuse to see it,” I sigh, trying to grasp my emotions. “I’m sure he’s done nothing but ruin a great novel and good movie from the 60’s.”

“Easy there,” he throws his hands up. “I didn’t say the movie was good. I just said it was the last one I saw.”

“Fair enough,” I roll my eyes.

“So what about you?”

“
Princess Diaries
,” I smile, and now it’s his turn to make a face. “I’m a sucker for Meg Cabot books,” I shrug.

“Never heard of her.”

“It’s sort of a chick thing.”

“So you’re into chick books
and
historical narratives?”

“I’m kind of into
all
books,” I clarify. “I’ll read anything.”

He starts to say something, but closes his mouth once everyone begins walking towards the school.

I’m disappointed and crushed.

This was going so well!

He’s sort of really fun to talk to.

He motions me forward once he notices everyone moving. “After you,” his head bows and his hands point in the direction of the school.

“Thanks for the jacket,” I slide it off as I start walking, handing it back to him. “See you later.”

He nods, taking it from me, and I give him one last smile before making my way inside. Can’t we
please
have another fire drill?