I take a fortifying breath and head inside. The room is filled with noise, everyone talking at once before the bell rings. I walk over to the desk that sits in the front corner of the room farthest from the door where the teacher is looking over some papers. He’s a slim, balding man, probably in his late 50s, with a tired stoop that says he’s riding it out until he can retire.Oh goodie.
“Excuse me…” I say over the roar of the talking class. I look down at my schedule, “Mr. Harris?”
He blinks up at me, his brown eyes enlarged behind thick, wire framed glasses. “Yes?” He has the sound of grumpy impatience of a man that dislikes teenagers.
Oh, dear god, this is the person that evil math teacher stereotypes were born from.
I hold out my schedule to him. “I’m a new student transferring into your class.”
“Two months late into the semester.” He eyes me, like he can tell what kind of student I am by the way I look. He seems unimpressed, quickly initialing my schedule, then pulling out his attendance book to add me. “I don’t know what it was like at your old school, Miss Santiago,” at least he pronounces my name correctly, “but this is a fast paced class, and you either keep up or you fail. The real world won’t hold your hand, and neither will I. Go find an empty seat.”
I nod, paste a brittle smile onto my face, and take back my schedule.Asshole, I bet I could show you a thing or two about the real world. I know what it feels like to have every bone in my foot smashed to the size of pebbles. Do you?The paper in my hand crunches in my fist.Deep breath.
Turning to the class, I look for an empty seat and find one next to Donovan in the back corner. He notices me, something akin to guilt tightens around his eyes, and he does one of those two finger waves, then gestures to the seat next to him.
My smile feels at least more relaxed as I shuffle down the row of two seater desks, trying not to trip over anyone’s stuff. Despite this morning, I agree with Nolan that Donovan isn’t a bad person. He wasn’t really mean to me, simply tactless to like the nth degree, and I can’t explain it, but I get the feeling he was disappointed to learn I wasn’t like him. Loneliness is something I know well.
Classmates watch me with unfettered interest, apparently fascinated by my familiarity with, and willingness to sit next to, Donovan. I bite my lip to keep from grinning. He doesn’t scare me, but it looks like his intimidation tactics are working fine on everyone else. Then again, what could he do past shocking me more like earlier? Certainly not worse than I’ve already experienced. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.
Donovan has to curl his long legs as best as he can under the desk, smacking his kneecaps, so that I can slide into the empty seat next to him. As soon as I’m seated, his legs immediately go back into the aisle, while he rubs at one of his knees. He watches me pull out a notebook and pencil before leaning over to me.
I’m immediately enveloped in the scent of worn leather and musk, a rich earthy combination. It’s surprisingly pleasant. My heart does a small leap, but I can’t tell if it’s because of Donovan specifically, or because someone is entering my personal space. There’s been quite a lot of it this morning-- none of it I’m used to.
He’s so tall that when he whispers, it’s more into my hair than my ear. “I’m sorry about earlier.” That sound of gravel in his voice isn’t limited to his laugh. “What I did was an asshole move. I can’t… You’re probably…” he sighs, his warm breath ruffling stands of my hair. “Look, I know this all probably seems crazy to you, but it’s not.”
I blink up at him, my eyes feigning naivety. “I don’t know. Your abs were pretty impressive, especially for someone of your age, but I wouldn’t say they were in the realm of crazy.”
He gives me aHave you been dropped on your head?expression. “No,” he speaks slowly. “I mean about what Connor said and, you know… the wings?”
“Wings?” I inquire blankly, before shifting to a squinty eyed glare. His face is only a few inches from mine, and I whisper furiously, “You mean the giant ass angel wings that popped out of freaking nowhere? Those did strike me as somewhat peculiar.”
He winces. “Yeah. Like I said, sorry about that. There was probably a better way to convince you.”
“Certainly efficient,” I snort, then a smile crawls across my face. “It’s okay. I’m bad at talking to people too.”
He chuckles, expelling a sharp, minty breath, and grins.There’s that handsome face again.
The students around us gape in surprise, and I can’t help it, I’m lost in a fit of giggles. If I don’t laugh the madness away, I’ll explode.
Donovan tries to scowl down the other students, but some of the force is lost because he can’t stop laughing at me laughing.
“You’re going to ruin my rep,” he mutters down at me, which only throws me into another round of giggling.
I’m reaching that stage where it’s mostly silent and getting difficult to breathe, when the bell rings. The quieting of the class makes our cackling in the back more obvious.
Mr. Harris walks to his podium in the front and glares back at us. “Mr. Alvarez? Miss Santiago? Why don’t you share with the class what seems to be so funny? I think we could all use a good chuckle.”
“We’re both bad at talking to people,” I reply, as deadpan as one can be while choking on laughter.
Donovan drops his head onto his folded arms on the desk, his big shoulders shaking.
The class appears at a loss on what to think of the girl who has turned the scariest guy in class into a snickering, wheezing mess. This of course leads to yet more laughing. My face hurts. My sides hurt. And it’s one of the most amazing feelings I’ve had in a very long time.
Mr. Harris sniffs, not appreciating my lack of contrition over his attempts to embarrass me in front of the class. “I don’t see why commiserating on your failings should amuse you so, but reel it in. I have a class to teach, and you’re distracting the students here who wish to learn.”
A welcome distraction, I’m sure,I muse to myself, wiping tears from my eyes.
Donovan takes a few halting breaths then slides over his textbook so that we can share. It’s already turned to the correct page, even though Mr. Harris is still going through opening announcements. Something about a pep rally for the football team on Friday.
