2 II

I'M JUST STARING at him, completely unable to form words. "I, uh-" I begin, but cut myself off before I have the chance to. I did not want to say anything stupid at all. If anything, I would like to redeem myself from running out like I had to desperately pee. Why, that was a great excuse. "I needed the toilet Sir, sorry."

His back was turned as he set some papers on his desk and turned around to face me. It was overwhelming in itself, to see him so close; what a beautiful man. His eyes were big, warm and welcoming, the same softness that Bev had earlier this morning. His lips were plump, reasonably sized but the colour was as though he had too many strawberries. A jaw that was carved very carefully, but hastefully as it possessed sweeping, sharp cut throat edges, and his cheekbones were no different.

"Richard, why were you two late this morning?" He asked, completely disregarding what I told him, as though it never really happened. He faced him now, Richard having the grace of his preciously elegant features.

Richard looked at me, most probably wondering whether he should disclose the fact that I had mental illnesses, and we were discussing my well being. Please don't, Richard, I think, hoping that telepathically somehow he got my message. "We take the bus," is the best that he can come up with.

Mr David nods, but it seems unrelated somehow. "Very well. Please give Miss-" he pauses, waiting for my name. He looks very briefly at his sheet, maybe not reading anything at all. "Eve and I a moment."

Richard nods, and walks outside quickly but signals to me that he will be waiting outside, and I subtly nod in agreement. "Miss Eve," he begins.

"Sorry Sir, my name is Kimberly, Kimberly Browne," I correct him, but in the softest of tones, hoping to prevent myself from causing further trouble. "Sorry, there must be some mistake on the registrar. Please, sit," he offers kindly as he gestures towards the chair directly in front of him.

Hesitantly, I take a seat, feeling completely overwhelmed as he towers over me, but at this angle he continues to bless me with his beauty. "I hope you understand that should you need the ladies' or any other facility, you just have to tell me, nevermind ask."

I am breathless by the way his northern voice directs me, how an accent so common among people sounded so unique, so smooth but deep, demanding but gentle. "Yes, Sir," I say, bowing my head down in embarrassment. "May I be excused?" I ask kindly.

"Just a moment, Miss Browne," he says, now sitting opposite me and I can feel his knee graze against mine, but he immediately sits further back to avoid the meeting. Well done, me. A man can not even handle my knees; it seems like I have a thousand and one things to change for myself.

Despite him sitting back slightly, it was almost as though he continued the intimacy. "I may not be as young, Miss, but I am aware that a trip to the ladies' does not take as long as 25 minutes," he smiles, and I swoon internally, my head falling to a side, and smiling myself. "Should you want to tell me what went on, I would be more than happy to know."

I nodded, desperate to leave, and sprinted out the door and took several deep breaths. He seemed so sweet, even though I missed his entire lesson, the first of this academic year, I might add.

Soon afterwards, I am greeted by Richard. "Alright? You seem flustered?" He asks in both politeness and concern.

I shake my head and try to forget everything, but as usual, the things that we try to forget end up lingering in our mind even more. "Almost had another panic attack again, but I left quickly; thank god."

He rubs his forehead, obviously quite confused. He knew the nature of my panic attacks.

"What happened when Mr David approached your desk? Why did you have a panic attack?" He asked another question, obviously curious.

I shrugged in response.

"He coming close to me just scared me. I don't know why, but it's just really overwhelming," I say and furrow my eyebrows, trying to understand myself, though I continued to struggle. "Besides, everything triggers me. I'm very sensitive," I joke, hoping to lighten up the mood. It seems like wherever I go I manage to dim things with me, bring them down.

He smiles lightly, whilst shaking his head. "All he wanted to do was give you a sheet of paper. When other teachers do that, you don't do anything. Why was it so different with him?"

I rub my temples in frustration; both out of his continuing plea of recent events but also the pounding headache that started recently.

"That's the thing. I don't even fucking know. My fucking anxiety is such an annoying piece of shit. His voice is really calm and soothing, that it literally worried me," I say and laugh at myself sarcastically, "God I am such a fucking worry pot, I need a fucking smoke."

"OH no you don't!" Richard began, thinking his demandingly loud voice would change my mind. " You just cussed like five times! The last thing you need is a bloody smoke," Richard spat dominantly.

I stuck the finger at him and made my way outside the school, quickly grabbing my cigarette and my lighter. What bull, I totally needed a smoke, my mind was going absolutely crazy and I needed to calm down.

Lighting the cigarette, I take a slow drag, enjoying every peaceful bliss that I was earning from it. My tense muscles stopped being so stiff and began to be loosen and hurt less. My mind's crazy, stupid thoughts switched off for once and I could enjoy everything. The scenery, a beautiful grey sky accompanied with many clouds, signalling it would rain soon. Trees were being blown by the strong whistled winds, birds flapping in the sky looking as dark as a silhouette.

Annoyingly, something had disturbed my lovely, calm sensation. The both of us had released smoke simultaneously and it became this perfect collusion that engulfed as we were surrounded in smoke, separating us from the rest of the world.

A puffy, foggy smoke coming from someone's perfect shaped cherry lips. With two fingers, I released the cigarette from my mouth to try and recognise who it was, smoking on me. As the smoke slowly, but gradually died down, I could make out very vague features of the man's face. Large, gorgeous, warm brown eyes, a regular, yet perfect shaped nose, and dark hair.

"Mr David?" I speak dryly and shyly, as my teacher had seen me smoke.

I am in deep shit, first day back. Way to go, Kim.

He licks his lips and I gasp aloud, quickly taking a drag from my cigarette, trying to cover my shocked expression that was incredibly readable. He is so fucking gorgeous, I don't understand how he is a teacher.

I bite my lip and rub my forehead with my spare hand, knowing that I was in trouble for so many reasons. I wasn't in class, I was smoking, even though I was of legal age, but still, I couldn't smoke on school grounds. I was quite infuriated, as I had come out to calm myself in the first place though I achieved the polar opposite.

"Wonderful weather huh?" Mr David asks, surprising me.

He could ask a question that people had involved in small talk, though no one does small talk during a time like this; when your teacher catches you smoking. Strange one you are, David.

I bite my tongue before responding, trying my hardest not to stutter, but fail regardless.

"y-yes," I stutter and fiddle with my cigarette.

He nods his head before taking another smoke.

"Sorry for smokin' on you earlier," he says apologetically.

I shake my head.

"It-It's a-a-alright," I whisper, my voice slimming by the moment. Mentally slapping myself for what seemed like the millionth time today, he reaches out to touch my shoulder and a rush of electricity goes through me and I jump back in surprise.

"No, I made a right lunatic of myself," he mumbles back, fiddling with the thin object in his hands and takes another puff. He starts to slightly keep his distance from me.

"Mr Tu-Turner," I speak quietly, my eyes gaze glued to the concrete ground, suddenly my shoes seemed much more interesting than earlier.

I take another puff of my cigarette and it automatically calms me down, something I had become accustomed to. "Yes, Eve?"

I looked at the floor. "You didn't."

"Sweet of you to say," he replies and I smile at him. He smirked lazily at me as my breath hitches, as I bite my lip and feel my heart banging out of my ribcage. Not now.

He takes another slow drag; he never seemed to take small, quick ones. As if he were cherishing the peaceful atmosphere as much as I was. I bite my lip hard, not enjoying the silence as much as I normally would.

"Uhm, M-Mr David, I'm so sorry for running out earlier," I speak worriedly, afraid of his response.

I played my words in my head over and over to judge whether they sounded all right or suitable enough to say aloud.

"Not your fault you have anxiety," he retorts swiftly and I turn my head swiftly to face him.

"Sorry?" I say, confused. How the hell did he know? I am sure it wouldn't be hard to figure out, almost everyone knows, it's not exactly a grave secret of mine.

He looked straight at me. "I can put the pieces together, Eve." He put it together? Does that mean he actually put in the time to figure it out? Maybe he was curious, it's not often that this happens in classes, so, definitely not like that; like I thought it was but did not even want to admit in my own head.

"What brings you here from Sheffield?" I ask, my social anxiety gradually dying down as I became more comfortable talking to him, though I still worried about every syllable that left my mouth. I decided ignoring what he had just said was easier than acknowledging it.

He laughs quietly as I smile at him. "Good at reading accents, impressive," he notes and I bite my lip and mentally debate on how wrong he was about that; I probably sucked at reading accents, his was just too obvious.

I shake my head in response.

"Or maybe your accent is just too recognizable," I answer back a few seconds later, knowing that there was nothing he could say now to make me think any different.

Taking another slow, long drag of the cigarette, Mr David tries to look me in the eye though I carry on ignoring his direct gaze. I knew if I looked at his beautiful, brown eyes that I would lose it and panic all over again. That was the last thing I needed.

Mr David chuckles, whilst looking down on the floor. He licks his lips before speaking as a lump in my throat grows and my breath hitches. "Maybe you doubt yourself a little too much."

I join him in his laugh, which surprises him as I smiled more than laughing because my voice was so thin and weak; I found it scary myself. "Mr David."

"A fresh start, I suppose," he says, staring at the beautiful sky above him as he admired every centimetre of it.

I throw my cigarette on the floor and rub my foot in it so the fire dies down.

I lick my lips as the so very Zen state of mind disappears. Stupid thoughts enter my mind as I groan mentally and sigh physically. I rub my neck and mentally prepare myself for the fact that I have to speak again.

"Uh, see you later, Mr David," I say successfully without stuttering.

He smirks resulting my breath to hitch and my heartbeat increasing rapidly. He takes another drag and licks his lips as I snap my head in another direction. I couldn't let him unknowingly seduce me. He was my teacher; I wouldn't let him see me in this vulnerable state.

"You don't smoke for long periods of time. Yeah?" He says, occasionally looking at me directly in the eyes and other times not looking at me at all. Just staring at the scenery in front him. What kind of question was he asking? It was a question that which the answer to was painfully obvious. Did he... no he didn't.

I think he was oblivious to the fact that I was smoking on school grounds, during school time. Both things that shouldn't be happening, but are. I bite my lip with a shrug.

"Just scared that'll fuck up my lungs a little bit too much," I say and gasp as this sudden confidence enters itself within me.

I swore in front of a fucking teacher! Mentally face palming, I quickly glance at Mr David, who was already looking at me. He smiles and shakes his head as I tremble and it takes it all within me to stay calm.

"Suck it and see, right?" He said with confidence, now staring at me, as if I was the beautiful sky. It seems we both got our random bursts of confidence at the same time.

I choke on my own breath. He unknowingly made a reference to Alex David's beautiful works. Or he was a dirty pervert - I doubted that. Or maybe he was just referring to the overused British phase of 'suck it and see' meaning something along the lines of 'try it out'.

That made more sense.

"Maybe I will," I smiled politely and he winked at me. Oh, Jesus.I lick my lips. "Nice seeing you, Mr David," I say and he smiles at me, which I try to return. I wanted to leave so badly, knowing that I was most definitely going to get a panic attack if I stayed any longer. Though the other side of me wanted to stay and talk. Our conversations were so free and comfortable.

"Don't be late next week, eh?" he said and I nodded quickly.

He gives me a small wave and smile before slowly turning back to face the landscape that was indeed in front and above him.

I slowly began to walk though midway I sprinted back to the school building. It wasn't considered much of a sprint to be honest; I was the most shit runner out there. Even a turtle could run faster than me. I was so slow to the point that I was insecure; too insecure to even run because I knew people were mentally making fun of how slow I ran. I didn't want to lose my entire cool in front of Mr David. I was really late already and I couldn't afford to be any later.

Arriving inside the building in a pant, I glanced quickly at the time to reveal exactly how late I was. According to the clock, it was already time for third period.

Could this day get any better?

Sighing, I quickly make my way to class, not letting myself get late or skip class again. I ended up thinking about everything that didn't go well in my day today.

Whenever something happens, I automatically think about everything that could go wrong. And whenever something bad happens, I always find a way to blame myself. Not that I have a rock bottom self esteem, though I just don't want anyone else to feel guilty. That feeling sucks and I don't want anyone to feel it.

I knew as soon as I saw everyone's faces in the class, that this class was going to be everything but fun. The teacher, a middle aged overweight man, was too fussy. He was fiddling with everything to make sure it was the closest thing to perfect and not the slightest bit far from utter flawlessness.

Most people's expressions were quite obvious to the fact that they were bored. Some people's faces were in their palms, some were secretly using their phones beneath their desks and somehow the teacher was stupid enough not to realise that.

Richard obviously was in a different class. Which obviously made everything so much better, obviously; especially when he is my best friend. I regretted everything I said to him, though I'm sure that he'll forgive me. I got crazy sometimes when I have too many panic attacks all at once, and he was always understanding of my situation; he had seen it unravel in front of him.

Even though there was absolutely no need whatsoever for me to snap at him; all he did was show that he cared about me by telling me not to smoke. He didn't understand. When I smoked, I felt like everyone else, not worrying every second and just enjoying everything. It just felt so nice to feel normal and like everyone else for once; instead of being panicked all the time. Obviously, in the long run it made my anxiety worse, but I don't care. My anxiety will always be bad, seven years have proved that.

I took a seat in the far back, not wanting to be talked to or included in any part of class discussion. I wasn't lazy; I was just no good. Maths was my worst subject and English wasn't my strongest but I did enjoy few aspects. Whereas in Maths, I didn't enjoy anything at all.

I'm sure I wasn't the only one. Many students hated Maths. It was as if you got something wrong, it was wrong. There were only right or wrong answers. In English, it could be wrong, but it also could be very right.

The entire class, like any other, was a complete bore and blur. I just sat quietly and got on with work. Teachers would consider that a good quality, but it wasn't; it was just sad that I only had one friend. What wasn't sad was that Richard was worth so much more than a million fake friends. Having one friend who was always there for me was all I needed.

Some people would die to have friends like that. They're quite rare. Very, very rare and I don't know how I got so lucky to have a friend like him.

All those popular students can have all the fake friends they want. Jokes on them though, I have a friend who forever has my back.

What really kept me going until the end of the class was the fact that I could go to break after this. Which meant I could see Richard and apologize whilst he kept begging me to eat something whilst I repeatedly declined.

It was almost as soon as the teacher, whose name I ever so politely forgot, opened the door, everyone escaped ever so quickly almost as if the room was on fire.

I, too wasn't any different to anyone else in this automatic action. Everyone was so desperate to leave the room of torture and learning. This teacher was the furthest thing from entertaining and just unhelpfully blabbed about useless shit no one could give a damn about in the slightest.

Out of the crowd, I made my way to the cafeteria to not eat, much different from anyone else. Spotting Mr David again, I ducked my head ever so low it pained me; just so I wouldn't have to face the awkward conversation of seeing him again which obviously was quite the stupid decision since I was obviously going to see him again sometime next week and in school.

He of course, spots me and smirks, causing me to breathe so much harder that people around me actually looked concerned for my well being. Teachers aren't meant to smirk at me, right?

Perhaps I really was going mad. Lack of food most probably causing me to actually witness my wishful thinking.

He comes my way, making me try to walk faster without it being unnoticeable, but I have the greatest luck. He comes over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder as I stiffen uncontrollably.

"Thought we were past the duck and hide phase, eh?" He whispers huskily in my ears as it rings and echoes over a million times in my head.

What really alarms me is the fact that his sudden contact ignited me like a fire of no other. It felt like when anxiety first hits you, but instead of spiraling into something much worse, it left you hot and breathless, questioning whether what just happened really did happen.

Without even thinking, I scurried off in a hurry to run away from a situation that I made a big deal of. My mind was racing more than ever making me feel a desire to smash my head against the hardest wall known to man.

Trying somewhat to control my overflowing anxiety, I clenched my fists and tried to calm down by taking slow, deep breaths. Shaking my head at myself, I made my way to the cafeteria, trying my hardest to forget my previous and very recent encounter with an incredibly attractive English teacher.

My eyes wandered around the large room filled with rude and obnoxious teenagers and searched for a familiar Irishman with incredible blue eyes and an appearance that could make any girls' panties drop.

He was, of course, very easy to find in a large and crowded room due to his uniqueness. He had obviously noticed that I noticed him and made his way to me with an enormous amount of concern in his eyes, which were more than evident to me.

Licking my lips to produce moisture and resolve the problem of my chapped lips, he mouthed a clear and quick 'hallway?' that I responded to with a small nod and an attempted smile of genuine politeness.

Following him to the hallway of my hell hole of a school, I decided not to make any eye contact with anything apart from the floor because of what seemed like shyness, but to me, it was just the simple fact that nobody even wanted me to hold my head up high to display confidence when I didn't even own a single ounce of.

Approaching the hallways, I hypothesized a great amount of conversation and speech showcasing true feelings of annoyance, though for a colossal period of time, Richard just stared at me, trying to figure me out and the possible recurring questions of reason to my behaviour.

"I just think that you're of much more worth than a cigarette," he chokes out quickly, obviously trying to indicate the fact that he cared about me which was more than true, causing me to feel more guilty than ever.

I took a deep breath before replying to him calmly.

"I understand that you care for me and my health; but I have this stereotypical addiction under control. I only need it when I feel so anxious I might die. I'm not addicted, I just- I just can't cope without it sometimes," I say, slightly becoming honest.

He lengthens the conversation by gifting me an understanding look.

"I know how bad your anxiety is, but honestly, turning to a cigarette for some form of relaxation is not the way to go about it. For one, it's going to make things worse for you long term, it's going to make you even more weak than you already are from not sleeping, not eating. What about this is a good idea for you? Other than the fact cigarettes don't have calories?"

I look up to the ceiling, shut my eyes and shake my head. "You won't ever understand it, Ri. You can try and try and hope and dream, but you don't have anxiety or anorexia. Self destruction is the only thing that I feel I'm doing right."

He answers me back almost immediately.

"You know I understand that, but you can't smoke on a regular basis and on school grounds at the age of eighteen, Kim. You could be expelled."

I nod in agreement as Richard smiles in pride, because of the fact that he achieved the goal of convincing me that there was no point of smoking during school hours.

"I am legal," I respond, and he sighs.

"Fine, I'll try my hardest, but no promises," I assure him before we both made our way back to the cafeteria and sitting down in our usual spot in the corner that didn't really have a label.

Richard inserts a chocolate chip biscuit inside his mouth before biting slowly. Swallowing the bite that he took recently, he opens his mouth to speak again. "So I'm quite the convincing one, eh?"

I laugh a little before responding to his faintly cocky and arrogant remark.

"Nah man, you're just really fucking annoying," I speak and Richard joins me in my considered joyful expression of laughter.

"And you're a jammy client that you're a bloody girl, Kimberly,"

"You're teaching me a rather large amount of Irish slang, aren't you?"

"Perhaps," he says with a shrug as I laugh with him.

Richard begins to eat quicker as I widen my eyes and laugh quietly to myself. "Pretty hungry, aren't you?"

"I could eat a nun's arse through a convent gate, alright? Don't judge."I roll my eyes at his massive exaggeration. "Please have some, too, Eve," he pleads, and even though I feel my mouth fill with water, and my head pound with dehydration, I shake my head. 12 calories in 5 chocolate chips, plus the sugar and all that other crap would probably add up to 80, and I know that once I start, I won't stop.

I quickly change the subject, knowing that if this conversation were to continue, Richard would find a way to convince me to eat, or force me to, something I could not risk."So what did you have before break, Ri?"

"Bio," he replies with a groan and hint of hatred in his tone and I chuckle at his response of revulsion towards the subject.

"It couldn't of been as bad as you say, Richard," I joke.

He raises his eyebrows and knits them together in a way to showcase a 'seriously'?Which I somehow found highly amusing.

He stares at me for a while, and I fidget around, beginning to feel self conscious."You need to eat Kim, you're a pull through for a riffle."

"That's like saying Alexa isn't a virgin," I chuckle to his statement.

"What a load of bullshit," he says, getting annoyed.

I roll my eyes. "I'm not even fucking hungry,"

"So in other words, you're equally as hungry as me?" Richard says, offering me a biscuit or two.

"Please just forget it," I say pleadingly and Richard gives me a look of disagreement that only continues to make me persuade him to drop the subject, which results in success for me.

"How long were you out for?" Says Richard, dropping the subject just like I asked for.

I bit my lip. "Until the start of third period, you know I don't like to smoke for more than an hour,"

"You still took some time," he noticed.

"Something happened," I say which raised the level of Richard's curiosity as he widens his eyes in shock.