Page 41 of Bad Kind of Love

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Becca

Months Later

Winter seemed to have passed by in a blur. The snow has melted and in its place was the warmth of the sun and the blooming of flowers. Senior year was finally coming to an end and it certainly showed. Senioritis was on full display as student’s cared less and less about their studies and focused more on the approaching summer time.

But the seasons weren’t the only thing that changed this year.

Wes and I grew closer, a unique friendship formed that came out of nowhere and knocked me on my ass. After spending many weekends together at work, our normal conversations soon turned more playful and sometimes deep, and I suddenly came to realize that maybe he was more than just a coworker. I noticed I spent more time confiding in him than I was confiding in my actual best friend.

But Josie had a new thing going for her anyway. After the night of the party, Nate took an interest in her, following her around like a lost puppy. At first, she shrugged him off, playing hard to get, but that only drove him to be more persistent. She’d find flowers at her locker, notes on her car, and he even showed up to some of her swim meets. Eventually, she caved in, like I knew she would and they’ve been inseparable ever since. Her time with me was dwindling, I heard less and less from her as she spent more time over at Nate’s house. Our late-night talks, sleepovers and movie nights came to an abrupt end altogether. My texts were left on read and my calls were unanswered. I was left hurt and confused. Why would she choose a guy over all our years of friendship? A guy that I didn’t trust. But she was blinded by his good looks and charm to see who he really was.

Wes seemingly picked up the broken pieces of my heart without me even noticing it. He broke down my sturdy wall that I held up for years, and little by little, his friendship is what saved me. He saved me from the dark place inside my head that I desperately try to avoid. It lurks inside the deepest part of me, waiting for my lowest point to hit, and drag me down into its depths. As a child, I’d felt it when my mother left and when the nightmares of that horrific night replayed in my head like a broken record.

On the inside, I was cracked.

Not fully broken.

I had tape holding myself together. It was a quick fix, to a long term problem.

I never explained to Wes what was going on, but he seemed to know something was off. According to him, I was easy to read, an open book that showed exactly what I was feeling. The day my tears fell in front of him, was the day I knew he wasn’t just a distraction anymore. He held me in a tight embrace, never uttering one word as I soaked his shirt until there were no more tears left to cry. He knew not to ask what was wrong. I didn’t want his sympathy, I just wanted his warmth and the feeling of his arms around me. They were the anchors that kept me from sinking.

As my relationship with Wes grew, Mr. Fitzgerald became colder. He avoided me like the plague, and on the rare occasions when he did acknowledge my presence, he made sure to have a scowl across his face. Like I was an inconvenience to him. Like he’d much rather be picking up dog shit, than talking with me.

Already feeling hurt by Josie cutting me off, Mr. Fitzgerald added more fuel to the fire that was burning inside me. Every day when I walked into his class, I made sure to let him know I was present, just to piss him off. I wanted to get a rise out of him, just so I could figure out what his deal with me was. It became a routine, stare at him until his dark eyes clashed with mine, raise my hand and make him talk, and even come into class early, so that we were the only two in the room.

And here we are now.

Thirty minutes before class starts, I’m lounging in my chair, keeping my gaze focused on Mr. Fitzgerald. Sitting at his desk, his head is down pretending to be reading a book, when in reality he’s trying his hardest not to peer up at me. The whites of his knuckles are showing as he holds the book in a death grip, ready to tear it to shreds. He holds his anger in well, but I know when someone is about to snap. And he is on the brink of exploding.

Bending over, I reach into my bag and pull out a piece of chewing gum. Peeling off the wrapper, I toss the gum into my mouth and start chomping. With the wrapper crumpled up in my palm, I rise up from the seat, and head towards the trash which is right up against his desk. He senses my movement and shifts in his chair as I get closer.

Black was this man's color. Every other color he wore looked off, like he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t. But I knew better. He wore black to match the coldness in his heart. Today, he added something different to his wardrobe that I’ve never seen before. A silver chain hid underneath the collar of his shirt, like he was trying to conceal it. But a glimpse of it was peeking out, and I immediately caught its sparkle.

As I stop next to the trash, my eyes rake over his dark hair that’s pulled back at his nape. His broad shoulders tense as if he can feel me staring but I make no effort to look away.

With the gum in my mouth, I form an O, and blow a large bubble. As it gets bigger and bigger it eventually pops and Mr. Fitzgerald slams his book closed.

Finally.

My heart picks up speed, thumping firmly against my breastbone as I wait for his outburst. His dark gaze finally lifts from his desk and when I think they’re about to land on me, they glance over my shoulder and lock onto something that causes him to sit up straighter.

“Jack, I… Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were with a student.” A femine voice announces from behind me and sends a burst of rage throughout my body. It was obviously a teacher by the way she used his first name, but I felt seconds away from shouting for her to leave. I was finally getting somewhere with him until she interrupted us.

“It’s fine.” He grunts, dropping his eyes from her and landing on me. “We were just discussing her lewd behavior in class, constantly wanting attention from the male students and continually disrupting my teaching.” He goes on without wavering from my now burning red face. My blood turns to a boil as I clench my fists as my sides, marking the inside of my palms with my fingernails. “Do you have any suggestions on what I should do with Ms. O’Connor?”

Did he really just say that out loud?

He doesn’t smile, smirk or even seem satisfied with his attack. If anything, he appears remorseful. But the devil was cunning, and I knew better than to think he felt sorry for what he said. Dropping the wrapper in the trash, I spun around and stomped back to my desk before dropping into my seat.

Crossing my arms across my chest, I watched as the dark haired teacher stood there with her mouth gaped open. I’ve never noticed her before, but she was a good looking woman. Tall, long silky hair and a mocha complexion that looked flawless.

“I… uh.. I didn’t mean to interrupt... that.” She waves her hands out in front of her nervously. Mr. Fitzgerald appeared less than interested to hear what she had to say, but the way his shoulders slightly relaxed made me inwardly scoff. “I just wanted to let you know that a couple of us teachers were going out tonight, and… I wanted to see if… if you wanted to come with us?”

Sitting up in my seat, I glared hard at the lady. She was clearly enamored with him, and wanted him to go. Fidgeting with her hands, I could practically see her shaking in her heels as she waited for his answer.

I fixed my attention back on him now and he could sense it. Leaning back in his chair, he seems to be pondering the question on purpose. Leaving me on the edge of my seat, angry and flustered for absolutely no reason.

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