As the rest of my class left the room to go to their next class or study, I patiently stayed behind, smirking to myself. This is our normal routine. When no-one was left, but Clay and I, Clay locked the door as he shut it behind them. A carnal smile spread across his lips as he stepped forward to reach me. He pulled me to him and buried his face in my neck. “I’ve missed you, Ana.” Clay places butterfly kisses all the way up my neck to my lips, where he can no longer restrain himself. Clay groans with need, and I grin to myself knowing what he will ask next. “Do you have a study now Ana?” I giggle and nod. Clay picks me up and carries me to the desk at the front, where he places me gently. I watch him look me up and down, “you wore a skirt.” He says satisfied with my attire. I was indeed wearing a short skirt. Clay’s hands trace my thighs and torment me through the thin cotton. He steps close to me and kisses me aggressively, as if trying to claim me for his own though no-one is there to see. Clay eases my mouth open and I gladly welcome him inside. As we continue our interlude my breathing becomes hoarse and quick, my heartbeat sounds like a humming bird. We call each other’s names as we reach our climax together.
“Ana?” I shake my head trying to clear it, not quite understanding that someone is calling my name. “Ana!” There it is again, more insistent this time, more of a demand than a question. “Miss Varn!” I hear laughter as I realise where I am. Oh this is not good. I’ve been daydreaming about him in class again. “It was only…” I couldn’t finish that statement, it hurt too much and it would get me in serious trouble. Tears began to form in my eyes, Mr. Spencer’s face softens slightly thinking that his tone has upset me. “See me after class Miss Varn.” Mr. Spencer says seriously but almost kindly. Trying to avoid causing a scene no doubt. Thank goodness that the school year is nearly over, I can’t afford to keep daydreaming in class. And Mr. Spencer can be glad that it’s my last year, he won’t have to see me after prize giving.
The bell rings and everyone but me rushes out. Mr. Spencer comes and sits at the desk in front of me, but sitting facing me on the chair. “What’s going on, Ana?” I just look down, not even remotely able to look him in the eye. “Do you want to tell me what you were so absorbed in that you might as well not have shown up for class today?” he asks gently. Still looking down I shake my head. “You looked upset before Ana, do you want to tell me what upset you?” This time, though still looking down I answer, “I can’t.” “Ana, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what is going on. Is it exam stress?” I laugh bitterly at that; exam stress, if only. “No it’s not exam stress, and there’s nothing you can do to help, it’s my own problem.” I stand up to walk out, but he grabs my wrist, clearly he’s not finished asking his pointless questions. “Are you having problems at home, Ana?” I laugh again, more genuinely this time, problems at home, that’s just ridiculous. “The biggest problem I have at home is that my mum won’t accept that I can’t tell her who I have a crush on. As family problems go, I think that’s pretty minor, don’t you?” Trust Mr. Spencer to pick up on the one detail I had hoped he wouldn’t. “Can’t Ana? Why can’t? Most teenage girls won’t tell their mother, so why is it that you can’t?” I start muttering swearwords in Hindi (my mother taught me so that I could swear without getting in trouble with my Kiwi teachers, make no mistake I’m Pakeha, but my mother had quite a few Indian friends when she was younger). Mr. Spencer raised an eyebrow at me as if he knew I was swearing, because he caught me out, but couldn’t prove that I was swearing. “This person you have a crush on that you can’t tell your mother about, is that the cause of your inattention today?” I sigh in defeat and nod. “Can you tell me, Ana?” I look up at him and shake my head. I understand some of the reason he is getting frustrated, I have come to him more than once for help outside of his classroom, when my Dad was sick and I needed someone to talk to I came to Mr. Spencer, when my Dad died, I came to Mr. Spencer. When my Mum remarried earlier this year and I felt it was too soon, I came to Mr. Spencer. I can see clearly that he is getting frustrated with my reticence, my unwillingness to even look at him, let alone tell him what’s going on. Shit! Just thinking it over like that made it glaringly obvious to me, Mr. Spencer isn’t stupid, I need to get out of here before he puts two and two together and figures it out. “Mr. Spencer, I really need to go now.” I say in a slightly panicked voice, which of course he picks up on. “Ana, what’s got you so scared?” I shake my head, tears starting to form again, I can even feel a sob building at the back of my throat. “I’m sorry Mr. Spencer, but I really just can’t…” I get cut off by that damn sob breaking through. When he hears the sob, he grabs me and pulls me into his comforting embrace, it wouldn’t be the first time I had cried on his shoulder. He rubs my back soothingly. “Shh Ana, it’ll be alright, talk to me, tell me what’s going on, who is making you so upset?” I put my hands on his shoulders as leverage to push away from him. “You just don’t get it do you? What is it exactly that you want me to say? That I have feelings for a guy who doesn’t reciprocate? Well it’s true I have feelings for a guy who doesn’t feel the same. So, what now? You tell me not to worry, that I’m still young, that I’ll get over it eventually or that maybe if I told him how I feel I might be surprised, that he might feel something for me too. Huh? Then what? If I had told him and he rejected me, you would remind me that no matter what his opinion of me was, that I’m beautiful on the inside, that it’s his loss and he will regret it later. No Mr. Spencer, the world isn’t always that neat and tidy, there are times when you can’t tell the person, maybe they are gay, or straight, or married, or some other god damned thing that will keep you apart!” by the end of my little tirade I’m nearly shouting, then I realise the last thing I said. I blush and the tears fall freely. “I..I..I have…have to..g..go!” I stutter as I tear from the room as fast as I can.