Page 24 of Still Falling for You

I continue, re-enactingDiary of a Wimpy Kid, FrankenweenieandGnomeo and Juliet. I try to avoid any human contact withAlex, and for a moment, I almost forget he’s there. I think I’m a good teacher, and one pompous idiot at the back of my classroom isn’t going to make me forget that. I carry on proudly with my newly found confidence until I start re-enactingStar Wars.

‘Star Warsis a space opera,’ Alex mutters almost to himself. He blinks rapidly when all the heads turn his way. He couldn’t stop himself from having a dig.

‘Thank you, Mr Bennet. You’re right, sometimes genres are not so clear-cut and can blur into each other.’

I take his remark in my stride, and he dips his head to the sheet of paper in his hands in what almost looks like embarrassment. I feel almost giddy. I can’t leave it there, ‘TakeStar Warsfor example.’ He tips his head up, his eyes boring into mine, but I don’t break the contact when I speak. ‘We don’t know where the force comes from, and in a way, it acts like magic by following no logical or scientific boundaries or abiding by physical laws. So, we could call the Jedi space wizards if we wanted to be accurate. However, we could also consider all the technology that isn’t powered by the force and say that the technology is very advanced which would almost make us think of the sci-fi genre.’

Our gazes lock, daring each other to take the next step that might tip the balance. The air sizzles and sparks with frantic energy similar to seconds before dancers’ bodies slam against each other in a mosh pit. I feel there are only two possible outcomes – a profanities-ridden argument or a fight. But at the last moment, Alex clears his throat, and the tension shatters like a sheet of glass struck by a sledgehammer. I’m reminded I’m in a class full of children who are staring at me like I’m having apoplexy and that having a wrestling match with their assistant head in front of their eyes is career suicide.

‘OK, time for a recap. You have five minutes. Off you go,’ I say hastily and pretend to tidy my desk. I can hear the doorclose shut behind Alex, but I’m not composed enough to check whether he’s really gone.

The rest of the lesson goes swimmingly, mainly because of Alex’s absence.

Once I take my class to the hall for their lunch, I come back to my classroom, my empty belly rumbling pitifully. When I reach the desk, I stop in my tracks at the sight of a brown paper bag full of food with a familiar yellow cardigan lying neatly folded next to it. When I bring the fabric to my nose, it’s not only soft but also smells heavenly like it’s been laundered.

Attached to the paper bag, a curt note says,I am sorry. I had no right to judge you. A-.

I open the bag unsteadily, flabbergasted by the sheer quantity of food. There are two sandwiches, my all-time favourite BLT and Ploughman’s, two flapjacks, a muffin and two pieces of fruit – an apple and a banana. My cheeks heat because he must have heard me speaking to Catherine on the phone. I quickly snap a picture of my lunch with the note attached to it and send it to our group chat.

I think I need some context, unless our friendship has grown so comfortable and our lives so boring we now share photos of our lunches, Lydia immediately messages.

That’s unexpected, Catherine types.

I pop to the loo and when I return, a missed call from Lydia embellishes my screen. I judge by Lydia’s next message that contains a long string of emojis, a bucket of water, a shirt, a flame and for some reason a large aubergine Catherine must have updated her on the phone while I was away.

I message back,To top it off,I basically accused him of having a teacher fired because they were after the same job.

The question is why did he buy you lunch? Men don’t do shit like that for no reason. Call me a sceptic.Lydia ponders.

He said some awful things. I think he might have bought me lunch to genuinely apologise,I admit with confusion becausethe Alex I’ve worked with for the last few weeks has been nothing but emotionally unavailable and hostile.

I don’t know what to think of him. Before he got me lunch, he made me look like an idiot in front of my class. Not to mention all the stuff from the past.

People change,Catherine responds. She always wants to see the best in people, but this time her comment hurts a little because I don’t want to see anything good in Alex.

He was a dickwad to her ten years ago, Cat. People don’t change that much. Some things can’t be forgiven,Lydia messages resolutely.

I’m not forgiving what he’s done to Holly. I hope you know that, Holly.

A weird knot tightens in my chest that won’t go away. I take a swig of a bottle of juice that was at the bottom of the bag to loosen it.

I’m sorry. I’ve upset you now,Catherine types.

I know she overthinks things and will worry if I don’t put her at ease.

I’m fine. Really. I just don’t want to feel any particular way about Alex or have anything to do with him.But for the first time, I doubt my own words.

I’m halfway through my lunch-for-two when John barges into the classroom without a knock. I’ve learnt that’s his customary way of entering any school spaces, so I simply wait until he reveals the purpose of his visit.

In his hand, he’s holding a bag of triple chocolate chip cookies, and I’m reminded of the comment he made about me to Danielle and scowl.

‘Hey, Holly,’ he greets me with obnoxious over-familiarity and struts towards my desk. I can’t deny the animal magnetism he spreads around the room. It’s like every piece of furniture is covered in a thin layer of musk as soon as he enters. I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing for some, but I feel chokedby it.

He leaves the cookies on my desk, and I arrange my face into some semblance of a smile. He brought me something sweet almost every day last week. I don’t wonder about his intentions any more, but his sugary gestures have turned into bitter blackstrap molasses on my tongue after overhearing his conversation with Danielle.

‘A few people are going for a few drinks tonight after work. Did you want to join us?’

I pretend to be gutted. ‘I’m babysitting my friend’s daughter tonight. But maybe next time?’

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