Say My Name [ Teacher-Student Romance -- Robert Downey Jr ]

Ch.14 - Not So Bad

Proven wrong though.

She'd never really thought about it but he was more than likely in a relationship. Apparently she just assumed everyone was single till proven other wise. Although he didn't wear a ring and he didn't have any pictures on his desk or even a mention of that sort of thing. She should just push it all from her mind, ignore it because it doesn't matter either way.

But.

The silvery wave of his voice as he'd speak confidently and clearly, no doubt he wasn't taken. Not that anything would come of her crush because it was just that, a crush, but it didn't suck any less when even in imaginary land you're still a single pringle.

She wondered what his life had served him. What deck of cards he'd been given for him to sorta say that some things happened early in his life that pushed him to write.

Everyone had their past that they'd grown from, she just supposed she forgot that.

For her, what had pushed her to write, initially starting in her journal was just simply an in class thing they did. Her teacher--umm, jeez, what was her name. Gosh, Charlotte was sh*t at remembering names. Like Mr.Roberts. Ha. Sorta right but not. Miss Muffins! No, umm, that was sudden. Miss, miss, miss, Duffins, Mrs.Duffins, that's it. She was a sweat older lady who treated her students like her babies. Maybe because they were all eight at the time. She wanted them to have something when they were older, memories from when they were tiny, so they'd journaled once a day, as much as they wanted.

A really nostalgic lady, sweetly kind, and generous.

Charlotte had written more than a page full in her tiny journal each day--which was massive, okay? It was like new parents going to the nursery after given birth and finding their baby doing one armed push ups with a whistle around its neck.

Okay, maybe not quite that rare but you get the point.

Then some years later she had gone crazy for poetry. Not so much the structure of it all or the punctuation, but the creativity of writing things that sounded pretty.

She was pretty sure she still had some of those notebooks.

Then she had put down the pen and not touched it for a long time. All the way up until Molly was born, and Charlotte had been reading every novel on the shelves at school, until her new baby sister got attached to just hearing her voice.

So Charlotte began writing stories just for her little sister, tailored perfectly for Molly's liking.

Now looking around her sisters room, bright purple walls, stuffed animals lining the bed and floor, along with toy cars and dinosaurs. Her rug, identical to Charlottes fuzzy beige one only this one was black, lay underneath them. The nightlight in the corner bringing life to the night watching over a safe sleepy Molly tucked under her pockadot colourfully sheets. Her window by the head of the bed overlooking the driveway with thick easy pull curtains, right across the hall from Charlottes. Same oaky wood flooring smooth and slippery to her socked feet.

Just close by was a small bathroom just for Molly which she happily claimed.

The rest of the rooms (besides the way down the stairs to the small entrance room, and down that thin hallway to the kitchen and or dining room), was all she knew of this house. She'd yet to go sit on the couch, or go beyond there to wherever her parents room was or the other bathrooms and whatever else was there.

She didn't care nor was she interested on exploring any further.

Pulling herself from her thoughts, or being called out of them more specifically, she snaps to attention. "Charlotte!"