The smell of tacos wafted around the room as I relaxed on the couch, barely focusing on the images the television was displaying. A yawn escaped my lips and I glanced towards the kitchen, pursing my lips. The sounds of cooking could be heard, but the person doing the cooking could not be seen. And I couldn’t go in there to see him either, since he had banished me from the kitchen.
I turned back to the T.V, picking up the remote to change the channel— you could only watch so many infomercials before going crazy. As I was flipping through the double digits, a familiar face flashed on the screen. My breath caught in my mouth as I stared at Shawn’s mug shots. The text on the bottom of the screen was relaying information about the trial tomorrow. Swallowing nervously I quickly switched the channel again, ending on Spongebob.
“Holly?”
My heart leapt into my throat and I quickly turned my head up, coming face-to-face with Mr. Heywood. My shoulders sagged and I let out a quiet breath. “You scared me,” I accused.
He chuckled. “Sorry. Do you want everything on your taco?”
“Depends on what everything is. I don’t like onions—”
“Or peppers?” Mr. Heywood interjected with a small smirk.
I stared at him in surprise. “Oh, um, yeah. How’d you know?”
“You and I are more alike than we could ever guess,” Mr. Heywood responded with a shrug. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Sure.”
A commercial for Christmas sales at a department store came on and I zoned out, focusing on the picture of Mr. Heywood and his parents next to the television. A smile spread across my face as I remembered the first time I saw it. It was hard to believe that only four months had passed since I first met Mr. Heywood. It felt more like two years had gone by.
My phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket, knocking me out of my reverie.
Where are you?
The contact read Lance, sending a jolt of terror through me for a moment, until I remembered Lance bought a new phone. Seconds later I sent my reply telling him where I was— truthfully. Lance was one of the select few who could know about my relationship with Mr. Heywood.
Really? Behave.
My face heated up quickly. Shut up. What do you want?
Meet me at the café on the corner of James Street before the trial.
Why?
Because I want to dump my trash.
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What are you talking about?
There were a few moments of silence before my phone vibrated again. You’re stupid. Ever heard of the term breakfast?
Nope. Must be some British thing that didn’t make it to America.
… Are you going to be there or not?
I’ll be there, I typed back, grinning.
“What are you grinning about?”
A startled squeak escaped my lips and I dropped my phone, a hand flying up to my mouth. My face flushed as I looked up to see Mr. Heywood looking down at me. “I didn’t know you were part mouse,” he commented.
“I—I’m not!”
“Uh-huh.”
“Really!”
YOU ARE READING
A Proscriptive Relationship
ActionHolly's new, young teacher has a dark past, and a dangerous future. She soon finds herself charmed by his ways, and gets thrown into the chaos. Who knew having an ex-gangster for a teacher could be so troublesome? As Holly and Mr. Heywood grow close...
