A Proscriptive Relationship

by Jordan Lynde

  “Stop crying,” he ordered, tightening his grip on my shoulder. “Why do you always cry over me?”

  “I’m not crying!” I said stubbornly. “I’m just angry!”

  “Obviously.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t like Haley. She dropped you just like that! If you really love someone, I think you should be able to handle a problem like that. Or at least try to talk it out.”

  “Holly, she was injured really severely, I can’t blame her,” he responded, straightening himself out. Instead of going back to his chair, he took a seat beside me on the couch.

  “That’s an excuse,” I pointed out, frowning.

  “Tell me, Holly,” he started, his eyes piercing into mine. “Remember what happened at the rock pier? What if I hadn’t come? And what if what happened to you was the fault of the person you loved?”

  “I wouldn’t care,” I stated boldly. “The person I love means so much to me that nothing could ever make me stop loving him.”

  He smiled. “He must be a lucky guy.”

  It’s you, you idiot! My mind screamed, but I just managed a half-smile at him. “If he’s lucky, then Haley is also lucky for having someone like you love her.”

  “Everyone I love gets dragged into my problems and then gets hurt, so I don’t think it’s luck,” he responded, his expression softening.

  “Tell me, Mr. Heywood . . .”

  “Chris.”

  “Um, Chris,” I started, lowering my gaze. “Do you still love her?”

  “You never stop loving someone.”

  I looked up at him, disappointment washing through me. What was that supposed to mean? He still loved her? Even though she broke up with him? Wait, that happened a year ago, I thought. So did that mean that . . . ? My eyes widened in realization.

  “Your dates. They’re with her, aren’t they?”

  He nodded. A brick dropped into my gut and I caught my breath. They were dating? Mr. Heywood was dating his ex-girlfriend that he was in love with? On all those dates over the past weeks, he was with her?

  My mouth was dry. So where did that leave me? He and Haley were probably going to get back together. It was only a matter of time before they were officially a couple. Did that mean there was no chance he actually liked me? All those instances when I thought he might, I was wrong? Was he really just being nice? No ulterior motive?

  I clenched my fists. No. I was wrong. Why was I having such discouraging thoughts? Is this what it was like to in love? Unable to let yourself be happy with thoughts of doubt? Even if Mr. Heywood was still in love with Haley, I would just have to make him love me.

  “Holly, I have something to confess.”

  “What’s that?” I said, pulling myself from my thoughts.

  “They weren’t dates,” he admitted. “Not one of them. I just said that the first time to make you jealous because I wanted to see your reaction. But then when you started dating Jeremy, I kept lying to you because I didn’t like you being with Jeremy and I wanted you to feel jealous.”

  Trying not to smile as his words registered was a hard task. I looked at him, keeping my mouth as straight as possible. “Were you jealous of Jeremy?”

  “Yes,” he said bluntly. “I said I wouldn’t lie to you anymore, so I won’t.” Guilt flashed over his face, but I ignored it.

  “It’s fine,” I told him, trying to be nonchalant. “I was jealous when you said you had dates.”

  “That was obvious,” he commented, a smirk slipping onto his face.

  I blushed. “You’re a jerk.”

  Mr. Heywood laughed and continued to laugh for a full minute. When he finally sobered up, I raised an eyebrow at him. “What?” he asked, giving me a questioning look.

  “I didn’t think what I said was that funny,” I told him.

  “Oh, it wasn’t.”

  I rolled my eyes, causing him to chuckle again.

  “Holly, you don’t realize how relieved I am to know you don’t care that I was in jail for eight months, or that I lied to you, or that I fought people for fun, or that I nearly killed someone. I think most people would be running off in the other direction by now,” he told me, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. His dropped his hand back onto the couch, and it brushed against mine, staying there.

  I blushed again clearing my throat. “I have my reasons . . .”

  The main reason being I’m in love with you.

  “Holly . . .”

  I looked up at him, tilting my head to the side. He returned my look with a guilty one and I immediately frowned. I didn’t like that look.

  “What?” I asked nervously.

  He paused, then shook his head. “It’s midnight . . . you should probably call your mom.”

  I frowned. That obviously wasn’t what he was going to say. But I gasped, realizing the time. I pushed myself up off the couch, accidentally placing my hand on top of his. I yanked it back in surprise from the contact, making me lose my balance and fall onto him instead. Blushing furiously I muttered my apologies, trying to pull myself off of him.

  He chuckled and I could feel it reverberate through his chest. I pushed myself up, so that I was hovering over him. But before I could pull away completely, he grabbed the front of my shirt and stopped me.

  “Holly, sometimes I wish you weren’t my student,” he said so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.

  My breath caught and I stared at him, his eyes penetrating mine with their usual intensity. This time however, I didn’t look away immediately. I held his gaze as best as I could. To my amazement, he ended up looking away first. Then he gently pushed me away from him.

  “I’ll give you a ride home,” he muttered, pushing off the couch as well.

  I stared at him for a moment, not sure what to say. Did that mean what I think it meant? Did he have feelings for me a teacher shouldn’t have for his student? A smile made its way across my face.

  Maybe it wasn’t a direct confession. But it was definitely a step.

  LESSON twenty-four

  “Ms. Evers, class is over.”

  My eyes snapped open and I came face to face with Mr. Heywood, who was squatting in front of my desk. I felt warmth spreading across my face. “D-did I fall asleep?”

  He grinned, waving at the last student exiting the room. “Looks like it. My class too boring for you? Or maybe just a long night?”

  I stared at him flatly. “You know it was a long night.”

  “Doesn’t mean you can sleep during my lesson, Holly.”

  “You called me Holly!”

  “Don’t I usually?”

  “Not in class,” I told him, a grin growing on my face. Last night definitely had a positive influence on our relationship.

  He smirked, watching me with an amused expression. “Why are you getting so excited?”

  “I’m not,” I denied immediately. “You just only call me ‘Ms. Evers’ in school when there’s people around. Huh . . .”

  “What?”

  “You do only call me Ms. Evers when people are around,” I commented, looking around to make sure the class was actually empty. “Why is that, again?”

  “I don’t know,” Mr. Heywood responded, a mysterious smile appearing on his face. Obviously he also remembered what he told me about my special last-name treatment.

  The door opened, and a group of giggling girls came in. I scowled in annoyance at them. Perfect timing.

  “You’d better get going before you’re late to class, Ms. Evers,” he commented, checking his watch. “You’ve got two minutes.”

  I sighed, brushing past the girls in the doorway. “Bye, Mr. Heywood.”

  It was good to see that things were still normal between us. After last night, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. But he seemed more cheerful, at the least. And that thought made me happy.

  The rest of the school day passed in a flash. When the final bell rang, I took out my phone to check my messages. There was one new message from Laura Greyson. Sudd
enly I was overcome with nerves. My hands shook as I pressed the open button. Two words stared back at me.

  He’s awake.

  Relief spread through me. Lance was okay. He was okay.

  Which meant I needed a ride to the hospital ASAP. And I knew just the person to ask. Twisting on my heel, I sprinted for the biology hallway.

  “Mr. Heywood!” I cried, winging open the door to his classroom. “Lance is awake and okay and can you give me a ride to the hospital right now?”

  He gave me a quizzical look before what I said registered. “He’s awake?”

  “Yes, can you give me a ride?”

  “Sure, but I have somewhere to be at four, so you’ll have to find another ride home. You should ask Jeremy.”

  “Sure,” I responded, anxious to get to the hospital.

  We went to his car and he opened the passenger door for me. I climbed in and buckled as he got into the driver’s side. I pulled out my phone, dialing Jeremy’s number.

  “Yo!” he greeted enthusiastically. “How’s it hanging, Holly?”

  “Hey Jeremy,” I responded, smiling. “Good, actually. Lance woke up.”

  “That’s great!”

  “Yeah, but I might need a ride home from the hospital. Do you think you could swing by and get me?”

  He snorted. “Do you even need to ask? Of course I will! Anything for you.”

  I grinned. “Aw, you’re so sweet. I love you, Jeremy.”

  “I love ya too, kiddo,” he responded. “Just let me know when you need me to come get you.”

  “Sounds good, I’ll see you later.”

  “Bye Holly.”

  I hung up, turning to give Mr. Heywood a thumbs up, but paused in mid-motion at the bothered expression on his face. I suddenly felt guilty. Was it my fault? Was I ruining some plans he had made? I fidgeted nervously. I’d gotten too ahead of myself.

  “Sorry,” I apologized after a few more moments of silence. “Am I ruining your plans?”

  He glanced at me in surprise and then shook his head, returning his attention to the road. “No. Why?”

  “I don’t know. You seem annoyed,” I responded honestly.

  He immediately frowned. “Do I?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “Well, is there something I should know?” he asked, his tone growing hard.

  “What do you mean?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. Even though I told you about my past, even though it was private and I’ve never shared it with anyone but you . . .”

  “What am I supposed to be telling you?” I demanded, growing irritated. “I haven’t done anything!”

  “Well, never mind then.”

  “No, not never mind!” I responded, glaring at him now. “Now you have to tell me. I didn’t do anything to make you angry at me, right?”

  “I’m not angry at you,” he said. “I’m just slightly annoyed.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I said never mind. It’s your life and you can do what you want.”

  “What am I doing?” I said, exasperated. “Mr. Heywood, just tell me.”

  “Chris,” he corrected.

  “I will never call you by your name if you don’t tell me,” I threatened.

  “If I tell you, you might get mad.”

  I blinked in shock at his tone. Was he embarrassed? He looked at me sheepishly, making me more surprised. The sheepish look was a new one too. Was the world coming to an end?

  “Now I’m really curious,” I said, leaning closer to him. “Tell me.”

  He cleared his throat. “I thought I said I don’t want you to date Jeremy.”

  That was not what I was expecting. I raised an eyebrow in confusion. “You did.”

  “So why are you two still dating?”

  “Huh?”

  His hands automatically tightened on the steering wheel. “Sorry, Holly. I’m just . . . I don’t handle these situations well.”

  “Wait, first of all, Jeremy and I aren’t dating,” I responded, shaking my head. “We’ve gone on dates, but as friends. I thought we went over this last night . . .”

  He frowned, glancing at me for a split second again. “Then why’d you tell him you loved him?”

  My eyes widened. Wait . . . was Mr. Heywood jealous? Jealous of Jeremy? Jealous, and admitting it?

  “No, no, no,” I responded, fighting the urge to smile. “Friends. We’re friends.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why does it matter?” I pressed, biting my lip.

  “It doesn’t,” he muttered. “We’re here.”

  I looked up to see the giant hospital displayed in front of me. He drove me up to the front entrance, gesturing his head towards the door. “See you later.”

  “I’m not leaving until you tell me why me dating Jeremy matters,” I told him, crossing my arms.

  He sighed. “I said never mind.”

  “Fine. Then never mind about me telling you the whole truth about the situation.”

  I kept my face as straight as I could as I told him that total lie. He narrowed his eyes slightly. I almost smirked. Instead, I reached for the door handle. As soon as my hand came in contact, I heard the click of the locks.

  I rolled my eyes. What an old trick. I unlocked the door again, this time holding the lock so he couldn’t lock them again. A small smirk of triumph appeared on my face as I opened the door. Turning back to Mr. Heywood, I gave him a smug smile. “Guess I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Holly, wait,” he demanded, reaching over the seat and grabbing my arm. “I just want you to tell me seriously whether you’re dating Jeremy or not.”

  “Why should I?” I responded. “What difference does it make?”

  “Remember what I said to you the last night? Before we left?”

  I frantically forced back the blush that was threatening to come on my face. “What about it?”

  “Think about that,” he told me, a serious look on his face.

  “Huh?”

  He let out a small groan of frustration. “Come on, Holly. Put two and two together.”

  “Put two and two together?”

  I almost gasped when I realized what he meant. If he was jealous of Jeremy, then what he said about being my teacher could only mean one thing. I stared at him with wide eyes. That was impossible.

  He sighed, placing his forehead against his steering wheel. “Did you figure it out?”

  “You’re gay and want to be with Jeremy?” I babbled, not knowing what else to say.

  Mr. Heywood looked at me so fast I know he must have cricked his neck. He stared at me incredulously. I forced myself to keep a straight face, and even managed to frown. It was a very hard feat.

  “What?” he choked out.

  “I should have known,” I said with a sigh, proceeding to get out of the car.

  “Holly? No. Wait!”

  “Sorry, I’ve got to go! And I’m not dating Jeremy, I promise,” I told him, turning my back on him. “See you!”

  He honked the car horn after me as I speed-walked to the entrance of the hospital. My heart was beating a thousand beats per minute and I felt dizzy. When I came to the hospital doors, I leaned against one for a minute, trying to compose myself.

  When I finally calmed down, I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. That could have been considered a confession from Mr. Heywood. Something I never believed in my life to be possible. Something I should be jumping up and down screaming about. But no. I played it off as though Mr. Heywood was gay. I groaned again. Unbelievable.

  After allowing myself to wallow in my idiocy, I trudged inside and headed straight for Lance’s room.

  *

  “Holly!” he exclaimed when I entered. He was lying in his hospital bed, propped up and wearing casual clothing. His expression was bright, so that was a good sign. I could barely make out the bandages under his shirt.

  “Hey,” I greeted, smiling. “How are you?”

  “How am I?” he repeated, raising
an eyebrow. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine . . .”

  “You haven’t changed at all!”

  “Was I supposed to?” I responded, growing more confused.

  “Well, after three months, I’d expect you to look a tiny bit older.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He frowned, looking at me like I was an idiot. “I’ve been unconscious for three months, remember?”

  “What? No you haven’t. You’ve been out for two days . . .”

  His expression twisted from shock to annoyance. “My mother is so going to get it . . .”

  I laughed. “Your mom told you that you were out for three months?”

  “Yeah,” he grumbled. “I freaked out about it for a full hour this morning. I can’t believe she tricked me!” He went to cross his arms over his chest, but grimaced in pain and rested them at his sides again.

  The smile quickly dropped from my face. “You sure you’re okay?”

  He gave me a sheepish look. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please, Lance. Being shot is as bad as it looks.”

  He sighed, rubbing his hand across his face. “Yeah, it was pretty bad at the time.”

  “What exactly happened?”

  “There’s not much to it. I was leaving work and before I knew it I was surrounded,” he explained, sounding like he had explained it a thousand times before. “They asked about Mr. Heywood and I told them I didn’t know him. They said they knew about that time at the towing place.”

  “You weren’t even involved that much,” I muttered.

  “Well, anyway. There was a little, er, hand-to-hand violence between us and then one pulled out a gun and that was that,” he finished, pursing his lips. “But when I told the police—”

  I gasped. Right! Of course he would speak to the police!

  “What did you say to the police?” I demanded. “Oh, no . . . Lance, did you mention Mr. Heywood? Please say you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t,” Lance responded slowly. “Why?”

  “It’s a long story. Just know that it’s a good thing you didn’t mention him.”