Forever Could Be Ours

Chapter 20. | Good Enough

ALEXANDER

I haven't slept for almost thirty-two hours. Turns out, jetlag is a bitch.

Followed suitably hand in hand with my insomnia, my brain is muddled, tangled in a web of fatigue and disorientation. Despite my body's desperate plea for rest, sleep remains an elusive dream, resulting in me being late for my first teaching class at Annandale after the break.

I burned out the deal of letting Tristan borrow the car this morning and paid the price by sprinting to Annandale High. Not even a participant in the Olympics could match my pace and they certainly don't race wearing a crumbled button-down and black Converse.

Inhumanly breathless and on the verge of collapsing in exhaustion, surprise bursts through me when I accidentally crash into someone during a left turn in the entrance hallway.

My papers scatter in the air like white confetti and books tumble loudly in collision with the linoleum floor. I printed out the old midterm assignments last night and since they were only held together by one weak-ass paper clip, the hallway looks like a printer has vomited.

"I am so fucking sorry, man–no, I shouldn't be cursing, shit–" I frantically try to clean up my mess all the while making sure the guy is okay from the collision. "What I'm trying to say is I didn't see you there, I'm sorry. The hallway is usually empty after the morning brief."

Empty or not, I still imagine myself bulldozing through the hallway to be on time.

An unfamiliar face of freckles and a friendly smile meets my gaze, somehow easing my nerves. He grins and combs his fingers through his sandy blonde hair. "It's alright man." His voice is as sincere as his face and he adjusts the strap of his sports bag hanging over his shoulders. "Happens for even the best. I once collided with this chick Audrey in the exact same corner. I nearly gave her a concussion."

"Audrey Kingston, huh?" I watch as he uses the palms of his hands to stand up from the floor. "How are you not in a casket and buried at six feet?"

He grins widely. "I ask myself that question every morning, appreciating another day for being alive." He politely offers a hand to help me up from the ground and I accept it gratefully.

With a quick scan of my face, he scratches his chin in question. "You new here? I haven't seen you around before."

"Yes–" I'm still beat up by the intense jog and white spots flash before my eyes. "Well, no, not really. I'm part of an internship program. I've been teaching Senior Advanced Math since January."

"Really?" He looks surprised, almost as if he doesn't believe my words. "No fucking way. Mrs. Harris is gone?"

"Yes–well, not dead of course," I quickly add, feeling the heat crawl up my neck. "She retired and gave me full responsibility for the class. I'm of course under supervision from my counsellor–"

The door to Principal Frederick's office creeks opens, saving me from continuing this horrible embarrassing path of sleep-reduced babbling. 

"Alexander!" Frederick's hands clap together excitedly like he expected to see me. "I was just about to show up for your class. How was your Autumn break?"

"Delightful," My tone nowhere meets the level of enthusiasm in his greeting. "Went for a weekend trip to Indonesia with a friend. What can I do for you?"

Phrasing Hayleigh as my friend makes my stomach churn.

"Well, it seems like you've already met," Principal Fredericks squeezes his hand on the guy's shoulder. "You've got a new student in your class. A friendly face, actually. William Blaine was our student before he took his Junior year in Europe."