Heaaaavily unedited. I'm really glad you guys are liking the story! ❤
YOU'RE UNPREDICTABLE.
"Mr. Williams, I need your help," I walk up to his desk after class, unabashed, waving a piece of paper in my hands.
It occurs to me that I wouldn't be doing this if it were a few days ago. Just goes to show how much our relationship has progressed from what it was.
He looks up at me, rolling his eyes, but I don't miss the small twitch of his lips at my expense.
"Yes, Namora?"
"The homework you gave... I'm having difficulty with it," I pout, scratching the back of my head.
He raises his eyebrows, "and? I can't give you special attention, Namora."
I shake my head, "they'd come asking for your help too if you weren't so intimidating and scary." And funny. And pretty. But I don't want him to have an ego boost.
Rolling his eyes, he argues, "so you don't find me intimidating and scary?"
"I do. But I've seen the person that hides behind that cold façade. And believe me when I say he's an amazing person," I stop myself from saying anymore when he narrows his eyes at me.
Those scathing blues still leave me tongue-tied. Not that I'm complaining.
"There you go again, saying stupid things..." He sighs, rubbing his temples.
"...just this once. Give me your paper."
I don't need to be told twice, instantly sliding my sheets over to him.
I watch him scan what I'd already written, his eyebrows raising at certain points (probably because of my handwriting, which looks like chicken scratch), nodding to himself at other intervals.
And it suddenly hits me then that I'm witnessing another side of Mr. Williams; a side of him where he's so immersed in what he's doing that he's tuned out his surroundings, left his soul in the world of literature.
And I love it; I love the way his blue eyes shine, the way his cheeks turn rosy, so utterly concentrated in my incomplete analysis. I wish he could show even half of that enthusiasm when he speaks to me; I would die happy.
"Namora... something tells me you're just being lazy," he finally says, shooting me an accusing glare.
I huff at his accusation, pouting, "no, I genuinely need help."
He raises his eyebrows, "so tell me then, how you were able to map out the themes but unable to describe them? Comparing this essay to your previous, I can say with full certainty that description is definitely not your weakest point."
I shoot him a cheeky smile, "then, what's my weakest point?" You.
"Don't change the subject."
"I'm not, I'm just curious. We're on the same subject."
"Take your curiosity and bother someone else with it."
"How rude! I'm just asking for your help, Mr. Williams," I say in frustration.
He sighs, shaking his head, "my apologies, Namora. I'm quite exhausted today."
It's then that I pay attention to his blemishes which I hadn't noticed earlier because I'd been too busy praising his distinct features; the bags under his eyes and his hollow cheeks.
"You haven't been eating well?" I mutter, raw concern lacing my voice.
He looks up at me quickly, taking notice of my prevalent undertone.
"Yeah... it's fine," he murmurs, surprise outlining his voice. He gives me that look again- that blank look which seems to want to prod through me and find the thoughts whirling around my mind.
Ha. I would never let him in on my sinful thoughts.
"You don't look fine. Do you want-"
"Namora, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"Mr. Williams."
"Namora-"
"Just let me-"
"I said I don't-"
"Mr. Williams!" I sigh in exasperation, giving him my most heated glare. He seems astounded at my tone, but quietens down, probably shocked by my outburst.
"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, you did a good job at making me feel better, so please let me also return the favour."
He purses his pink lips, "with all due respect, Namora, I don't see how a teenager can help me."
Ouch.
"I... but I told you my problem... kind of... and you helped me... so I wanted to help you..." I murmur in defeat, knowing I won't be able to break down these new walls of his.
It seems like every time we try to get closer, we get pushed farther away.
But this time, I won't let it happen.
"Namora—"
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so nosy."
Mr. Williams seems to be shocked by my sudden change of mood, and rightfully so.
"—But just know that I'm here for you..."
I look down into his blue eyes, my heart going out to him in ways he would never comprehend. I just wish I could touch him; if I reach out my hand, would he let me touch him?
"...Just like you were here for me."
A small smile makes its way over my features; watery, but not sad; more happy and content, because I'm able to say such things to him now without having to worry about him shoving me away.
Said man sighs, taking his glasses off his nose, "Namora..."
"I'm sorry if my words sound so... intimate... I genuinely can't help it," I pout, "I'm not usually much of a talker, so what I say can have a stronger impact than intended."
He narrows his eyes, "more like they have the opposite effect of what you intended."
"Oh? What did I intend?"
"To surprise me," looking at my temporary poker face, he sighs, "I'm not sure, okay? You're unpredictable."
I really am.
"Can you drive me home today?" I blurt out, and he seems like he's caught off-guard.
"And why should I?"
"It's gonna rain today too," I fake a frown, looking outside at the storm that's brewing. Silently thanking God for the atrocious weather conditions because it enables me to spend more time with the Adonis sitting in front of me.
"Why don't you have a car?"
"I'm not independent enough for that, Mr. Williams. I've been sheltered all my life," I shoot him a sardonic smile to which he, instead of sending me a snarky remark, seems to ponder.
"Ah, and is this one of the reasons why you think you might have developed social anxiety?"
The way he words things to make it seem like I'm already aware of it.
"Yes, you're right..." I say, astounded, and he seems to relish in my taken-aback expression with a small quirk of his lips. I guess we both like surprising each other.
Maybe I like doing it a bit more, though.
"I'll drive you home. But," he begins, sitting up in his seat attentively as he looks me in my eyes, "you had best keep this a secret."
I send him a lopsided smirk, "my lips are sealed. It will always remain a secret. Bye now!"
Mood uplifted, I scurry away from him, feeling his gaze burning my back.
I know he knows; at least, has a tiny hint, that I have a crush on him. But I'm thankful that he doesn't address it, because if he did, I would have probably died of embarrassment.
I realize that I always learn something new everytime we make small-talk; it surprises me how my love for him can go so deep. It's unhealthy. But it's necessary; at least, for me.
To be obsessed with something so that I can ignore my other problems. Because I was never one to confront my problems up close and I sure as hell won't be confronting them now that I have Mr. Williams.
My lips quirk into a smile when I spot Savannah lingering a few steps away. She's been waiting for me, it seems.
"Hey girly!"
"Hi, Namora. I was looking for you!" She exclaims, then squints her brows and looks behind me, "...do you wanna hang out after school?"
My expression twitches, and I look at her hesitantly, "I'll have to ask my mom..."
"Yeah, please do," she says distractedly, eyeing something behind me.
The smile still on my face, I turn around to see what she seems to be so troubled about.
To see Ms. Lopen scurrying into Mr. Williams' classroom, her brown hair doing a sinister bounce as she closes the door behind her.
The door makes an echoing clang; as sinister as the feelings I feel; my heart dropping along with my smile.