Without The Words

Chapter 27

"Nate, I gotta go. You okay waiting with her until her dad shows up? I'm pretty sure the rest of the students are already gone. Vera McCarthy left her stuff next to the bed."

"I'll be fine, go ahead."

"See you."

The sound of keys jingled and a door shut. The air condition quietly blew from the vent on the ceiling, and it caused the few strands of hair on my forehead to flap against my eyelids.

I slowly opened my eyes. Mr. Lee was sitting on a rolling chair, and I looked around to see that I was laying down on a miniature bed with white sheets and a fluffy pillow. An ice-pack was pressed against my knee with a bandage wrapped around it.

"It's looking better." I heard Mr. Lee say, snapping me out of my daze. "You slept for the whole ride back. It's already seven o'clock. Your dad should be here any minute."

I nodded and rubbed my eyes. I grabbed my notepad and pen that was sticking out of the side pocket of my gym bag.

My hands were shaking, but I managed to make my writing eligible. Thank you.

He rolled his chair next to the bed, and automatically my heart-rate sped up and a blush spread across my cheeks. His vivacious blue eyes ran across my sloppy hand-writing, and they lingered on the last letter. He then gazed up at me, his thick lashed eyes comfortably boring into mine. The smell of peppermint danced around our two figures.

"I apologize for my behavior." He said, his wonderful hands tapping against the side of the bed. I studied the large veins that ran up his arm. His fingers were so close to my bare leg. The thought of him caressing my skin caused my breathing to become rapid.

"From before," he added.

The kiss. All at once the memory of his lips on mine shot through my body. Our bodies had been drenched but our kiss had felt so warm that the energy had coursed through the both of us.

I frantically scribbled on my notepad. I want you to do it again, I wrote boldly.

"No," he said quickly, but I watched with my own eyes for the very first time that he began to blush. A finely detailed smile appeared on his lips, but I watched him struggle as he tried to portray one who had authority. He looked down at the floor and shoved a hand through his tousled brown curls. He then scratched his stubbly chin while his face read every bit of discomfort.

"It wasn't right of me to do. I am your teacher and your coach, not one who can pass those boundaries." He frowned and looked back up at me, his eyes the most alive I had ever seen them.

I forget about my mother when I am with you, I scribbled as he read through my writing.

"You can't forget her," he said. "You need to accept her passing. We can find ways to do that, Poppy."

Like this? I wrote, and dropped my notepad on the bed next to me. His blue orbs quickly leafed through my writing and he looked at me as I leaned up on the bed and scooted close to him. I put both hands on each side of his stubbly cheeks. My fingers felt as if they were on fire- they literally burned with energy. I was beyond my comfort zone, but I found that I didn't really care.

We stayed like that, his eyes looking into mine. My hands remained on his cheeks. He raised his hand and gently caressed my hair, his fingers pressing against the top of my head. The ice-pack on my knee pressed against his leg and I couldn't help but wonder if he felt it.

"This isn't right," he whispered, his minty breath fanning my face and raising the hair on my arms. "I am not this type of person. You are too innocent for this."