High Expectations

Honest Opinions & New Beginnings

To this day I have no idea why I decided to return.

I had no true reason for making my way back to the class other than a book I felt I misplaced, but in the back of my mind I knew from the start I was making excuses to see if he for some odd reason decided to come back. I ached without suggestion or purpose, my fingers slipped between themselves and stomach alone dropped as I walked through the empty hallway. My legs were weak and trembled when I sped up. Things seemed more distant at the moment. The corridors were clean except for the occasional friendly janitor. I didn't want to be here mentally, and yet physically I needed to be. I tried to accept whatever it was that had overcome me and put things behind. I would simply search for my textbook, apologize for my interruption if I caused one, then walk back home. Done. Nothing more, no small talk, no attempts at asking where Mr. Colts had gone and how long he planned to stay absent. I would refrain from my behavior from my usual suck up days and get things over with.

My hand reached at the silver knob, turning it sideways and rushing inside, blindly hunting for a book I knew wasn't present. My head down and eyes averted I sensed no one. The class was far too quiet. I made a noise that sounded something between a “hello” and a “sorry”. With no response I was assured I was by myself. A sigh of relief, then another of disgust as my eyes glanced around the room pointlessly. I was exiting, adjusting my bag from falling off my shoulder when I heard his voice.

“May?”

He's in the same outfit as yesterday. I don't know what to say or how I should handle things. It was not only rude of me to barge in, but odd to simply walk in without motives other than a growing crush. I notice his eyes are bloodshot, and the violet bags that push beneath them are darker and seem heavier than usual. I worry he's still at his obsessive workaholic attitude again, but I make the quicker assumption that he was indeed fairly ill. I notice the air between us is tainted with the faint smell of what I considered a whiskey scent, if not brandy. I'm blank as ever, wishing, hoping he isn't disturbed by the long silence I cannot seem to fight.

“Sorry, had to get a book, I was just about to leave,” I mumble rapidly, my tongue tangling with each word.

His lips parted. He didn't say anything for a while. My face was numb with heat, overcome with embarrassment. I tried to walk in the opposite direction, but came face to face with his chest. At this point, and at this stance, I am sure he has encountered some use of alcohol. I'm indifferent by the scent, merely surprised by the fact he drinks. He's a man of his word. He's never mentioned that to me. I want to excuse myself again but he speaks up before I get the chance. “Are you alright? You...look worried.”

“Fine! I'm fine.” I lied with a nervous grin. “Don't want to bother you anymore, I'll just-”

“May,” He cut softly, a tiny laugh exerting his throat. It's an unusual chuckle, almost sad. “I know you can smell the gin.”

“I don't.”

“Yes, yes you do.”

“I won't tell anyone.”

His voice has lifted with concern. I want to escape it but I'm ever so captivated by our sudden closeness. “Why are you really here? Did the substitute say something to you?”

“I really had to get a book, Colts.” My eyes are still avoiding his own. I want to ask about things. I want to know, but I'm too god damn well mannered to even speak. Or perhaps its my infatuation that's averting him. Either way the given situation has me breathless. I don't know why I've become such a mess.

“I need you stay.” He says to me. This tone is much more stern now. He isn't giving me an option. “May, I'll only be a minute.”

My stomach churns, my digits burn. Because we're so close now I can smell more of that awful gin. I'm seconds from losing my composure and for a moment I can hardly breathe. “Okay.”