A Proscriptive Relationship

A Proscriptive Relationship: o7

"It's not that funny," I growled, slamming a box down on the counter in the biology equipment room.

"You're a senior, but haven't been kissed?" Mr. Heywood asked laughing so hard he was out of breath.

I felt myself blushing and I looked at the ground. "I mean I've done quick pecks and stuff."

Mr. Heywood started snickering again. "How many boyfriends have you had?"

"Five," I responded, frowning deeper.

"Only five?"

"What about it?" I demanded, glaring angrily at Mr. Heywood. "I can't help it if guys don't like me!"

Mr. Heywood looked surprised for a second, and then he smirked. "You're mistaken. I think a lot of guys like you."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "How would you know? This is only your fifth day here."

"When you're a young, handsome, kind teacher, people tell you stuff," Mr. Heywood responded with a shrug. "For example, your friend Sadie is going to be asked out today."

"What?" I gasped. "By who?"

"Some kid named Sam?"

"I knew he liked her!" I responded, slamming my fist down into my hand. "It was only a matter of time..."

"Senior," Mr. Heywood snorted once more.

"Oh, will you drop it!" I snapped, unpacking the box that I had just placed on the counter. "How'd you even find out about it anyway?"

"You're friend, Casey."

That little traitor. With unnecessary force, I ripped the tape off the next box.

"I'm going to go get a drink, do you want something?" Mr. Heywood asked, hopping down from the counter.

"I don't have any money," I told him.

He shrugged. "It's on me."

"Really?"

"Don't be so shocked, you make me feel like a mean person," Mr. Heywood responded with a sigh.

"You are though," I pointed out.

"I know."

"Bottle of water. Now go," I demanded, irritated again.

He left the room, and I continued to unpack in silence. There were only a few more boxes left before they were all gone. I'd probably finish today. If I finished, did that mean I was done helping him after school? For some reason, that thought made my stomach turn a little. Why was I sad about it?

I shook the thought away and continued unpacking. After my third box I frowned. How long did it take Mr. Heywood to go get drinks? I started on my fourth box and was halfway through when he walked in, carrying a coke and a bottle of water. He set them both down on the counter and ran a hand through his hair.

"Geez," he muttered, pushing himself back onto the counter.

"What took you so long?"

"I ran into some girl's at the vending machine," he explained, taking his coke and opening it. "It took forever to get away from them."

"Why didn't you just say you didn't want to talk?"

Mr. Heywood gave me a flat look. I realized why he couldn't do that. He was the "nice, handsome, young, amazing" new teacher. He couldn't ruin his image. I grumbled as I grabbed my water. Why was it only me he was himself with?

"Thanks, Mr. Heywood," I said as I opened it and took a long drink.

"Call me Chris outside of class," he ordered, setting down his coke. "It's weird being called Mr. Heywood when school's over."