Do you know the feeling when you know something is about to happen and you have no way of knowing whether it will be good or bad?
Do you also know the feeling when you should pay attention to it and really think about what it could be instead of being a knuckle head and simply ignoring it?
Hello, I'm that knucklehead.
Today, I'm about to walk you through what seems like the best day ever...not.
I had woken up today with a strange feeling at the pit of my stomach, knowing that I shouldn't have come to school today. I have already had a bout of flu and while I have recovered from it, I still should've taken things easy.
Things like avoiding things which make me queasy, such as public speaking, or being around Mr. Klein, my ridiculously gorgeous and completely unapproachable English teacher. Both of those things have happened today and I can still feel my ears turning hot from what happened because of it.
Currently, I'm sitting in the waiting room outside the Principal's office. I'm not the one in trouble. Infact, someone owes me an apology. An apology I am not too keen on accepting, however, because of how petty and embarrassed it is going to make me feel, and infront Mr.Klein, no less.
I had gone on stage thinking that I had this under control, but I should've stopped trusting my trouble radar long ago. It doesn't seem to work well when I need it the most. Five minutes into my speech, I could hear loud cackles and the occasional rude comment from a certain section of the audience. The Craft bitches' gang.
I had tried to ignore it all but it got to me. Stage fright worsened with every passing second and before I knew it, I could recall the feeling of bile rising up my throat. Not wanting to throw up on the podium, I had simply left the stage in a quick sprint to the bathroom.
Only to be called "what a fucking scared bitch" by one of the Crafts in front of the whole school. With all the teachers, the Principal, and the parents of the participants in attendance.
To cut a long story short, I was forced into a declamation contest by my old English teacher, Ms. Finnigan, a few weeks ago despite my unwillingness to participate. She saw potential in me and wanted me to snap out of my stage fright and fear of public speaking. I had no choice in the matter. Any chance of me backing out of it was crushed when Ms.Finnigan decided to transfer to another school and was replaced by, you guessed it, Mr.Klein. Twenty seven year old Mr. Caius Klein, who is as unapproachable, unyielding, scary yet as ridiculously attractive as his name makes him sound.
At 6 feet 5 inches, he towers over most of the seniors in our school, and seems like he belongs more to the sports department than to something as polar opposite as English. Literature, no less.
With a full head of jet black hair that looks slightly messy, it looks like he intentionally styles it that way. He dresses immaculately, all old school with properly fitted waistcoats and sharply tailored trousers - clothes which contour his incredibly well developed physique. His huge chest looks even bigger on the days he decides to wear his jacket inside.
His chiselled jaw is clean shaven and he smells faintly of some expensive cologne that I bet makes every sane female in the room want to catch another whiff of.
But it's not just the sharp dressing, the unapproachable attitude or even the size which seems daunting about him. It is his dedication to teaching which comes forth clearly when he teaches in class. His love for the subject is obvious. He never makes the occasional jokes that most teachers do and I don't think I've ever seen him smile. It is the no-nonsense attitude which makes everyone wary of him.
Especially me, since I'm all nonsense most of the time, atleast for the last eighteen years.
The door to the Principal's office opens and I see Mr. Klein lead Angela Craft out. And straight towards me. We trade a 'sorry' and 'its alright' before I start to head out to go home.
"Vanessa, may I have a word?"
I freeze when I hear him say my name.
"Let me get my things and we'll talk somewhere more private."
The words 'talk' and 'private' make my heart skip a beat.
We walk together down the hall in complete silence in the direction of what seems like our English classroom. It feels strange yet exciting to be walking with him. The cologne hits me with full force. Upon reaching, he gestures at me to get inside and I quietly obey.
"What happened today was not your fault." He finally breaks the silence.
"I know that you did not want to participate. So why didn't you back out?" He asks calmly.
I don't even know what to say. This is the first time he has actually spoken to me directly and I can't just tell him that I didn't back out because he is hot but scary at the same time.
"I thought that this would be a good chance to get over my stage fright."
"That's a good idea...but shouldn't you do that when you're feeling alright? Have you eaten anything after vomiting?"
My ears are turning hot again...
"Uh yes." I mumble, unable to remember if I actually did.
"Like hell you did. C'mon, we'll grab you a bite."
What the hell.
***
An hour later, I find myself sitting next to Mr. Klein in his black BMW. We've spent the last hour eating food from a drive-in and talking about general things. Like school and what I want to do in the future. He is still pretty intimidating to me but not half as much as before.
He doesn't even realise that he is perceived the way he is, and it is adorable. What is most surprising is that he has been the one to carry the conversation forward and break the ice. He even smiled when I told him about my stage fright.
"I really should get going Mr. Klein."
"Are you sure you're feeling better, Vanessa?" His voice suddenly deeper and softer.
I feel my insides churn into a gooey mush at the sound of him saying my name.
"Yes, I do. Thanks for the food. I'll see you in school." I nod curtly as I pop open the car's door to get out.
"It's Caius, Vanessa. And I'll see you in school. Take care."
Needless to say, I won't get much sleep tonight.
