Of Literature & Kisses (Forbidden Romance)

Chapter 2 - The Notebook

The school lunch break was finished. I had managed to eat pieces of the horrible chicken patty offered today, and vowed to bring my own food from now on, even if it meant lugging around an extra bag.

I walked alone now to my last period, until my friend Riley came up to me and offered to walk me to class. "Where are we headed to?" He asked, standing tall beside me.

"Room 36. If it's far from your classroom, then don't be shy. You shouldn't be late on your first day," I said with concern.

He gave me a beautiful grin and let out a chuckle. "I'm just down the hallway. Besides, I've never been popular with the teachers."

"Because you're rude to them, and you don't do your-" I cut myself off, biting my lip awkwardly. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he laughed. "You're right, though. I'm not exactly easy to handle."

"But you're kind and awesome. That counts, right?" I smiled at him and rested my fingers over the door handle of my classroom.

"If it counted, you'd have gone out with me last year when I asked you to." The basketball player winked wolfishly. The grin over his lips hinted at mischief.

When I turned bright red and my lips parted without words, he took pity on me and spoke.

"I'm teasing you, Cece. It was nice talking to you. I'll see you around."

"Bye, Riley. Thanks for, uh, walking me."

The awkward encounter and the heat in my face had me swinging the classroom door open and quickly walking in. It was when I looked inside and toward the desk that I remembered whose classroom I was in, and just how badly I was dreading this moment that had all but creeped up on me in the damnedest way.

"G-Good morning. I mean, good afternoon," I stuttered. He had looked up at me when I walked in, and now he gave me a perfect smile and returned my greeting.

His dark blue eyes paused on me, squinting with some sort of recognition. "Your face is familiar, and I know you were a student of mine," he began, "but I can't place the name."

"Celia Cedric."

"Ah, Cece." He murmured as he remembered. "Still top of your class?"

I nodded, forcing my lips into a smile as I went for a seat right where I preferred, in the front row but completely to the side, safely by the wall. I sat down and stared at the empty blackboard in front of me. All it said was his name, written neatly in white chalk: Mr. Jamie Gallagher.

My pulse was wildly beating in my neck, thumping to life as a consequence of both social blunders that I had committed in less than five minutes. Looking for something to do to calm myself I reached into my bag and took out my notebook and pen, tapping the writing utensil against the paper. No words came out. Not even mindless doodles.

All I could think about was the burning need to look up and see our teacher, really see, to satisfy my curiosity. I forced myself to write a list of my favorite books, filling the lines with words that meant absolutely nothing.

"Class," his voice, deep and smooth, cut over the chatter of students and silenced the room without effort. "Most of you probably know that I used to be an English teacher here two years ago. I know I taught some of you, and I'm glad to be back here. We're going to read some great literature this year." He paused, looking around him calmly.

"For this class you'll just need yourself, something to write with and something to write on, and the novels we'll be reading. You can purchase them as we go along, but I bought the first book for all of you. Can someone help pass them out? Cece, what about you?"

My eyes shot open and I was nodding before I could hesitate. Not that I was going to, that would have been even more embarrassing. Carefully I got up and walked to his desk, where he now stood in front of the class. He placed the entire stack of books in my hands, and I was surprised at the short number of books and their lengths. Then I realized it was Kafka's Metamorphosis and at least the shortness of the book itself could be explained. It was when I looked up and started to hand out the books row by row that I realized the class had no more than twenty students. It was an advanced placement course, and I expected the class to be limited, but I was not prepared for this. Suddenly the room felt much too intimate, what with me standing there in the middle of it with Mr. Gallagher looming just behind me.

I was relieved when I finished and happily settled into my seat, hoping now for complete invisibility. But Mr. Gallagher turned his dark blue eyes to me and thanked me, making that impossible. As he continued with his introduction, I let my eyes do their guilty bidding, for once turning my attention completely to the man I had been trying very hard not to look at.

He was still completely and insanely gorgeous. His face looked as though it had been replicated exactly from a perfect statue, every feature strong and finely boned. His hair, long and waving down to just below his ears, was a warm medium brown, almost reddish. He had a slight stubble of beard, the skin of which was perfectly tanned in a manner that I couldn't understand for a Massachusetts autumn. Add to that the fact that his body was a tower at what I could easily guess was more than six feet, with lean muscles that rippled throughout his body whenever he so much as shifted, and he became the full package. He was not meant to be a teacher, but a destroyer of females everywhere. Myself included.

My face red with shame, I looked away from him and sighed with relief at the sound of the dismissal bell. I stood up only when he dismissed the class himself, finding it rude otherwise, and gathered my things. I took the notebook in my hand and occupied myself with my bag as I walked, fumbling for my phone and earphones now that it was time to walk home. Then I did it, the notebook slid from my hand and crashed open to the floor. Long, steel hands were taking the notebook before I could make the move, and he brought himself to full height just in front of me.

He glanced down at the notebook in his hand, curiously gliding over the page with his eyes.

"A list of your favorite books," he spoke, looking down at me with a humored smile. "I didn't mean to read it, but the page was open..."

"It's okay," I said, reaching for the notebook. He didn't hand it to me, but looked straight into my eyes.

"Catch 22?" He questioned, cocking a thick eyebrow at me.

"Yes. That's on the list." I said dumbly.

"I didn't take you for a war book kind of girl."

I tried to get myself offended, but I was used to it.

"Let me guess, Jane Eyre and Emily Bronte," I quipped.

"And Jane Austen."

I stayed quiet, uncomfortable because of the way my stomach was jolting, twisting from the nerves. Introversion could be such a curse.

"Catch 22 would be on the reading list if it weren't so lengthy," he spoke smoothly. "I think it's a great book. Have a nice day, Ms. Cedric."

"You too, Mr. Gallagher."

I started to walk away, looking at that rusted, unpainted door with utmost fervor.

"Cece, you're forgetting something."

"Right," I clicked my tongue, turning on my heels with a sheepish smile. "The notebook."

And then he started, quietly, to laugh.

______________________________

Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to vote if you did, and let me know what you think! ❤️ Picture of Jamie at the link, and a James Bay song that I remember whenever I'm thinking of this story.