8 VIII

THE DAY IN which we had to come back to school had unfortunately arrived and my parents were to be back tonight, which wasn't the happiest occasion for me. After all, all my mum would do is worry.

Self consciously, I look at myself in the mirror. I hate my body. Other people would examine their perfections, whilst I examined my flaws and nothing else; probably because I have no perfections.

My skirt was hiked a little bit before my knees, at mid thigh and my white blouse was tucked somewhat neatly into it whilst a tie was wrapped around the collar of my blouse. I had put slightly see through tights on my legs; hoping that they would look much better. Over the knee socks were placed on top as well.

They didn't look better.

I shrugged. Who cares? I look horrible no matter how I dress, so I might as well wear whatever the fuck I wanted. Placing black ankle boots on my feet and grabbing my bag, I left the house and skated the way there.

The grey sky was at its best. The clouds blended perfectly with it as the sun struggled to shine through. A cold breeze glided along with me as I ran one of my legs against the concrete road before it joined the penny board again.

Surprisingly, I hadn't had a panic attack in about two or three hours which was a relief, but was a huge stress in the sense that I was still awaiting another. Lucky enough, the centre in which my therapeutic sessions were held wasn't too far away.

Rapidly, I jump off my board and stuff it into my bag before walking into the centre; Bev could never know that I was travelling alone, but what she also didn't understand that it was that kept me sane.

I stepped into the elevator and pressed the same button I always pressed, Level 3.

Swiftly, the elevator approached its destination and I stepped out of the metallic, suffocating cubicle. Making my way to Beverly's room, I shyly greet the people around my and mentally face palmed after.

Beverly looked stressed yet alive, very much unlike me. She wore bright hippie colours whilst she eyed my new attire of 'school uniform'. "Morning Kim. You alright? Come on in then. You look lovely."

Sure I do. You look twenty years old too Beverly. What else is new? I simply nod and smile with a small 'I'm fine' which didn't sound too convincing. I realised that I had to tell her everything.

Even Alex.

Rubbing my hands together in nervousness, I let out a shaky breath before entering Beverly's room. We both take a seat as I await her to bombard me with a few questions.

"How've you been lately?" She begins, smiling at me approachably.

I rub my lips together, trying to think of something pretty general but believable. "The usual. I found an anxiety trigger and the past two hours I haven't had a panic attack. Oh!" I remember in realization, "I passed out from lack of sleep and food."

She sighed and noted the statements I told her down. "What was the anxiety trigger, Kimberly?"

I licked my lips, picturing Alex's than perfect appearance; his large brown eyes that I could look into forever, his perfect face shape and jawline, his flawless naturally pink lips, his slender long legs and husky voice.

"Kim?" Beverly spoke, trying to bring me out of my fantasy life.

"Yeah?"

"What's your anxiety trigger?"

Oh god.

I rub my forehead and laugh quietly. "Oh right," How could I forget? You're fucking thick Kim. "It's not a thing to be honest," I say and bite my lip. "It's more of a person."

"Then? Who is it?" She says, gesturing me to go on.

She's going to think I'm an idiot. "My teacher. He's new so I'm probably not used to him-"

She cuts off my ramble and widens her eyes and fights back something. A smirk? "Are you straight Kimberly?"

What the fuck? What kind of question is that? "Straight. Why do you need to know that?" I speedily spit out.

She chuckles before responding. "Your teacher is a male, correct?"

I licked my lips. How did she know that? "Yeah."

She sits up straight and fixes her skirt before edging closer. "Kimberly, are you.... Attracted to him?"

I don't think I've ever flushed so much before. Rubbing my neck, my eyes glue to the floor, resisting to look anywhere else. "No, no of course not."

She gasps. "You're trembling and you're flushing. You kissed him didn't you? She rambles in excitement.

How in the world did she figure that out? I wonder as the weight lessens from my shoulders. Sighing, I give in. "Yes. Yes I did."

She squeals as I furrow my eyebrows. "That's great!"

"How is that great? He's an anxiety trigger?"

She laughs. "Your increase in a sex drive is a good sign, it might mean that you're starting to get better. Besides, we can't banish him from the face of this earth just because he's an anxiety trigger Kim."

I blush so hard at the mention of my sex drive.I chew on inside of my cheek. "I know that, but I don't understand how that's great."

She rolls her eyes as if the answer I was longing for was the most self-explanatory thing ever. "He's the one, Kimberly."

"So just because he's an anxiety trigger to me, that means he's supposedly the one?"

"Not only that Kimberly. The way you act whenever something is related to him." She jumps from her seat. "Oh my god! He's that poet boy isn't he?"

I wonder how she can figure things out just by looking at my face. "Yes. Yes he is."

"Okay. I can promise you he's the one. For sure."

I play around with my fingers. "We aren't on good terms right now," I mumble quietly.

She laughs again. What's so fucking amusing? I was expecting a cheesy and very corny answer of something along the lines of 'if he's the one, everything will work out' but I was obviously very wrong. Placing a hand on my knee, she responds. "My sweet," She says as I shiver. "Sorry. Poet boy probably calls you that, but, there will be plenty of times like this, but there will also be plenty of good times. Okay?"

I chuckle. "Did you just say it was okay to fall in love with my teacher?"

She waves her hand. "Who cares about that? Love is love. Fuck everything else."

My therapist just swore. S.w.o.r.e. "I don't even love him."

"But you will."

-

The fresh air slaps my face as I exit the therapeutic centre. Despite Beverly's attempt for me to understand what she meant by 'he's the one', I still didn't understand. How could she possibly have assumed that with little evidence?

After all, she knew very little things about him. The fact that he wrote poetry. Not just any poetry, but the beautiful, rare poetry, which was so very hard to find in this modern world.

The fact that he was my English teacher, which people would normally say that it was wrong. He was seven years older than me and extremely out of my league. He, as a teacher, was quite a great one. He wasn't overly strict, but strict enough so that we students could learn.

The fact that he was the most attractive person I'd ever laid eyes on wasn't that bad either.

Beginning to make my way to school, I thought about how Richard was going to be extremely over dramatic as soon as I was going to meet him in school.

I sighed; the last thing I needed was Richard's over obsessive side. He wasn't overobsessed, just a little bit eager to know the answers.

So curious would be the right word.

Stuffing my penny into my bag, I walk in a quickened pace over to Richard, as he looked over and greeted me with a stupid smirk which never manages to leave his face.

Richard winks at me. "Looking fit, Kim."

"As do you, Glen." I commented, eyeing his uniform and admiring the way it hugged all of his perfections.

He bends over looking at me strangely. "Something is different about yer lips. What happened? Did they become unvirginated?" He fakes a gasp as he disguises a laugh longing to escape his lips.

Shoving him to a side, I roll my eyes and adjust the strap of my bag. "We've talked about this so please, stop." I chew on the side of my cheek, thinking of a sassy response, which doesn't come to mind as I sigh. "And you know what? Fuck off would you? Bet you a million your first kiss wasn't with your English teacher."

He smirks wider. "Well... Actually-"

I shake my head in revulsion. "That's disgusting."

He throws his head back in a throaty laugh. "Says the one who kissed her English teacher."

Blushing, I tuck a strand of my blond hair behind my ear as we continue to walk to the school in a comfortable silence. "Well none of your teachers looked like him."

"We can't all be that lucky," he laughs.

I sighed; knowing that I had Mr David for a double period, as I attempt to mentally prepare myself for the fact that there was an almost certainty that I was going to have a panic attack.

Richard squeezes my hand in reassurance. "Don't worry, Kim."

I giggled. "What perfect advice to give to someone who has anxiety. I'm sure your fine words will cure all my problems."

He joins in my laugh as we approach room 302 and I feel all sorts; Goosebumps, trembling, chills up my spine and a tingling sensation sprinting throughout my body.

I gulped and keep my gaze at the somewhat interesting floor, not wanting to show my appearance to Mr David.

Realising that I probably looked like a numpty, I hold my head at the normal height yet pull my eyes away from him.

If he was here.

I wasn't sure whether he was here though, as I couldn't feel his presence. This motivated me to look around and I was correct.

He wasn't here. Why wasn't he here?

I drummed my chipped nails against the desk in boredom, realising I got all hyped up for nothing. Richard sat a seat away from me and mouthed a message, asking where Alex was.

I obviously shrugged. How the hell would I know?

My eyes flickered all over the classroom as I began to memorise where certain objects belonged. I concentrated on everything, the class displays, the way the desks were separate in perfectly straight lines and the way Alex's table was so overly organized.

Almost everything he did reflected every inch of his goodness. He had put effort into almost every single centimetre across of the classroom just to make it the closest thing to perfection.

He didn't have to though. He didn't. My heart began to flutter at the thought of his large hands carefully handling things and caring for them more than anything.

I shivered.

I lick my lips and pictured the rest of the lesson, Alex running in and starting the lesson was like of any other, and presenting himself that way as well. He would seem even happier, knowing I was never to speak to him again.

"I'm so sorry I am late," Alex spoke in regular Sheffield accent, which was more different as it was out of breath.

This was so unlike him; I knew that for a fact. He cared and adored his job too much to come late; even by a second. I know this was stupid for me to say, especially since he kissed me back, but that wasn't because he was unprofessional, but because he felt something for me? I don't know, but one thing's for certain: he did care about his job.

I quickly stole a glance at Alex. His hair was scruffy and with a less amount of gel that he would usually put. His face was even paler than usual and he had what many would call 'dull eyes'.

I mean, when I saw him he wasn't at his happiest, but there was the little dancing light in his eyes which was no longer apparent.

He completely avoided my gaze, which I didn't know how to respond to. Whether I should be sad that he's avoiding me or whether to be happy he is doing so because it would minimize the amount of panic attacks I would get.

I began to tremble at his presence as flashbacks stabbed me with a knife. They weren't any flashbacks though, they were the most clearest and detailed filled memories I had ever experienced which made it all the more harder to forget.

Not only could I picture it as if it just happened, but I could feel it too. His longing gaze, his soft, large hands and the way he moved our lips together perfectly.

It wasn't as though that I wanted to remember the specific details, but it just came as something like an unwanted present that you hated the idea of, but knew you needed it. He was unbelievably great but I hated the idea of him.

It felt as if people were too close to me and I felt like I wanted to throw up. I grabbed my bag once again and ran out to breathe again; I had to.

Everything was spiraling around me and out of control as my heart raced faster than any runner. This was all out of my control. Chills were running down my spine slowly in suspense.

I hated this; I hated having panic attacks.

I hated feeling as though I was in danger, when I clearly wasn't. I hated having anxiety when no one else in my year did. I hated the fact that my first kiss wasn't as romantic as I wanted.

I hated the fact that the man I had kissed had the same effect on me that a panic attack did. I hated that he made me vulnerable and small yet beautiful and angelic.

He was driving me crazy.

My hands were running through my hair, trying to get a grip of something; anything just to feel as though I had control of something, which I didn't.

My breaths were getting longer and more important as I grasped on to them for even longer than usual.

I felt someone's presence behind me because of the regular pattern of footsteps that was approaching.

Trembling and shaking like someone mad, I turn around to face the principal; Sir Bloomsbury.

I stood frozen, shocked at the fact that Sir was here. Probably because of the fact that I couldn't think of a reason as to why he was here.

Okay, maybe I could.

But I had always got away with things like that and, I don't know. It felt as though he wasn't here for that particular reason.

"Sir Bloomsbury?" I whisper with a slight hint of a gasp.

"I'm afraid it is, Miss Browne," he said in a formal tone, sighing as he gestured me to come over. "Come with me."

Obediently and shyly, I obliged and followed Bloomsbury into which leaded to his office.

I gulped and tried to think of why I shouldn't be here.

Nothing popped up. But when I tried to think of all the reasons as to why I should be here- wait. I didn't even have to think.

The kiss. Ditching school and me smoking. Me leaving the classroom constantly because of my panic attacks.

Everything.