A Proscriptive Relationship

by Jordan Lynde

  “I think that sounds like a good idea,” Jeremy interjected before I could agree or disagree. “It would be bad if James saw you two together like this.”

  “Holly, you go first,” Mr. Heywood ordered, still looking at the wall. “Try to get by without being seen.”

  “But—”

  “Go,” Mr. Heywood ordered.

  A small scowl appeared on my face. Mr. Heywood and I alone again tonight? The thought made my heart pound. I didn’t want to re-confess, but if he did anything that threw me off again, I didn’t know what I would say. It seemed like a dangerous thing for him and I to be alone. I sighed, pushing myself out of my chair.

  “I’m going.”

  “We’ll be out when the food’s ready,” my mom assured me, but something about her look made me think she was implying something else.

  Turning towards the door, I focused my attention on the floor and kept my head down so I wouldn’t be recognized. Of course though, nothing could work out for me. Before I reached the door, someone bumped into me and I snapped my head up to find James looking down at me in surprise, his arm wrapping around my waist to steady me.

  “Holly?” he asked in surprise.

  Shoot. “Oh, hi James.”

  His eyes left my face and traveled down my body quickly. I slowly removed his arm from around my waist as he checked me out.

  “You look really good,” he complimented. “Red is your color. Who did you come with tonight?”

  “Thank you, and my mom and a few friends.”

  James eyes shot over towards the table where Jeremy, my mom, and Mr. Heywood sat. I held my breath as his eyes narrowed slightly, then relaxed when they returned to me. He hadn’t recognized Mr. Heywood.

  “Sounds fun.”

  “Yeah, but I’m leaving now,” I told him. “So I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, bye Holly.”

  I exited the room before he thought of something else to say. Hopefully Mr. Heywood would be able to leave the room undetected. As I made my to the front of the restaurant I caught a few people staring at me and I blushed. I was never going to wear this dress in public again.

  Cold air bit at my exposed skin as I stepped outside. I shuddered, walking towards the car and waiting for Mr. Heywood. It was dark, and standing outside by myself made me feel nervous. Not that I could blame myself: anyone who had once almost been kidnapped by gangsters wouldn’t feel safe alone at night. Not anywhere.

  When Mr. Heywood stepped out of the restaurant all my worries disappeared. A smile of relief spread across my face as he started walking towards me. He gave me a sheepish grin as he grew closer. I raised an eyebrow.

  “I forgot the car keys,” he admitted before I had the chance to ask him any questions.

  “Oh. Well that sucks. It is, like, forty degrees out here.”

  “Come here,” Mr. Heywood ordered, gesturing for me to follow him with his hand. “We’ll see if my car is unlocked.”

  I followed him without hesitation as he started towards the dark parking lot behind the restaurant. As we went further away from the lights of the restaurant I moved closer to Mr. Heywood until I was practically hiding behind him. The parking lot had no lights, so the only light came from the moon. I began to grow apprehensive, my eyes flickering all around me.

  He stopped suddenly and I bumped into him, jumping from the sudden contact. A startled gasp escaped my lips and I took a step back away from him. “Sorry, you scared me.”

  He gave me a confused look. “How? I was in front of you the whole time.”

  “I guess I’m just being paranoid,” I admitted quietly.

  Mr. Heywood didn’t respond, but I felt him envelop my hand with his. I blushed, but didn’t attempt to pull away. Without any words he continued to lead me through the parking lot towards his car. When we arrived he stopped, turning to look at me. His expression was a guilty one.

  “Holly, I’m sorry,” he apologized.

  I blinked at him. “For what?”

  “The whole gang situation,” he told me, a hard edge to his tone. “I hate the fact that you have to be scared of walking through a parking lot at night.”

  “You’ve apologized for that enough, you don’t have to do it again,” I told him. “Besides, like I’ve said before, it’s just as much my fault as it is yours.”

  Mr. Heywood sighed. “You know, Holly, you should stop being so nice to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m hardly as nice to you,” Mr. Heywood told me, a smirk now on his face.

  “You’re nice enough,” I murmured, looking away from him. “If you were any nicer, I’d be worried.”

  He laughed. “Still, aren’t you angry with me?”

  “For what?”

  “You know, for telling you to re-confess your feelings.”

  My eyes widened slightly in shock and I quickly turned back to him. His eyes were filled with amusement as he watched me. How could be bring that up so easily? He was definitely trying to elicit some kind of reaction from me.

  “I’ve been thinking that saying that to you was pretty unfair of me,” Mr. Heywood continued, lightly tugging on my arm to bring me closer to him. “It must have been embarrassing enough to admit your feelings by accident.”

  I blushed now, mostly due to his words, but also due to our closeness. “I . . .”

  “However I did say that, and you’ve waited, and now today’s your birthday,” he said, now speaking in a low and alluring voice. “Is there something you want to say?”

  “No,” I responded, my voice equally as quiet as his.

  “Not at all?”

  “No,” I repeated stubbornly.

  Mr. Heywood hummed quietly, yanking me to him again, this time making our bodies collide. I gasped in surprise as he twirled me around and pressed my back against the side of his car. Both his hands were pinning my hands to door and he brought his head down so we were face to face.

  “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to say anything?”

  I shook my head determinedly. Now was the time to stay bold. If I could keep myself from re-confessing right now, Mr. Heywood would do it. He obviously wanted me to—that was why he was teasing me. I swallowed nervously as his eyes pierced into mine. Soon we were in some sort of staring contest.

  Part of me toyed with the idea that the only reason Mr. Heywood wouldn’t confess was because of his ego, which was probably true, but I would never say that to him. Another reason was because he wanted to see me embarrass myself by confessing to him again. That one was the more likely reason.

  After what felt like a million years he pulled away from me, letting my hands go. “Gee, Holly, if you’re this stubborn you’ll never get a boyfriend,” he commented in amusement.

  That set me off. I narrowed my eyes at Mr. Heywood, a scowl slipping onto my face. “Stubborn? I’m the one who’s stubborn? I’m not the one that told the girl that confessed her love to him to re-confess again only one week later just because she wasn’t a legal adult! I mean really, who does that? Don’t you think that was hard enough for me that night? What makes you think that I didn’t get over you during this time?”

  “Holly.”

  “Maybe if you would actually man up and deflate some of your ego you’d realize it’s unfair to make me re-confess again. And all night you’ve been trying to push me to do it. Even in school! You have to confess that you have a confession to make. You really lay it on thick don’t you?”

  “Holly, I—”

  “You know it was Jeremy’s idea to make me try to make you confess first. That’s why I’ve been trying to make you jealous all night. But no, you have to be all cool and composed and handsome as always!”

  “Handsome?” Mr. Heywood repeated, raising an eyebrow.

  I stared at him in annoyance, throwing my hands up in the air. “Mr. Heywood! Ugh! Just . . . never mind!”

  Mr. Heywood chuckled and I pushed away from his car, intending to go back into the restaurant. For s
ome reason my eyes were beginning to burn and soon I felt them become moist. Mr. Heywood was stupid. Jeremy was stupid too for coming up with that stupid plan which made me do stupid things and—

  My thoughts were abruptly cut off when I felt his hand pull me back to him. Too embarrassed to look him in the eye, I focused on his black dress shoe. The moon made it shine.

  “Holly, look at me.”

  I ignored him, keeping my eyes locked on his shoe. Suddenly his hand was at my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His gray eyes pierced into mine again, this time the usual glint of amusement was replaced with something else. Something I didn’t recognize.

  “You know the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’?” Mr. Heywood asked me.

  I nodded my head.

  Mr. Heywood brought his head down closer to mine, stopping a few inches away. “Want to hear something?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest.

  Mr. Heywood moved closer again, his lips not even a centimeter away from mine now. “Good, because I’m about to tell you how much I love you.” With each word his lips just gently brushed against mine, and his breath caressed them.

  My head spun already, just by hearing those words. I closed my eyes, waiting expectantly. As soon as I felt the gentle touch of Mr. Heywood’s lips press against mine I jumped. Not because of the feeling, but because of someone shouting my name, then his. He pulled away and let out a frustrated groan. My face grew so hot I thought it was going to catch on fire as I stepped away from him. I looked to see where the shouting was coming from and saw the silhouettes of my mom and Jeremy by the front of the parking lot.

  For people who wanted to help Mr. Heywood and I get together, they sure couldn’t have picked a worse time to come looking for us. We hadn’t even got to kiss!

  “I’m going to kill him,” Mr. Heywood muttered.

  “We’re . . . we’re over here!” I called back, surprised at how shaky my voice sounded.

  Mr. Heywood let out a deep sigh as Jeremy and my mom began to move towards us. “I’ll have to prove it to you later.”

  “Prove . . .?”

  “How much I love you,” Mr. Heywood told me, his eyes smoldering with emotion. “That wasn’t even a fraction of my feelings. I’m going to make you drunk off my love.”

  I blushed from his unequivocal tone and words. I swallowed nervously, encouraging myself to speak. “Promise?” I finally managed to force out.

  Mr. Heywood looked surprised for a moment, but then a smirk spread across his features. “Promise.”

  LESSON thirty-four

  “Maybe you ate some bad steak last night.” My mom gave me a worried look as she stood over my bed. She pressed her hand to my forehead and frowned. “You don’t have a fever . . .”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think I do. I just have a stomachache . . . and cramps,” I made up quickly.

  Immediately my mom smiled with realization. “Ah, I understand completely. I’ll call the school and let them know you’ll be absent today.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem, honey,” my mom responded with a smile. “Rest up though. I’m sure Lance and Casey will be very disappointed if you can’t go to the festival tonight.”

  “Oh crap! I forgot about that,” I responded with a frown. “Yeah, I’ll rest then.”

  My mom chuckled. “Okay. Make sure you eat something too. I’ve got to go to work now, so have a good day.”

  “You too, be careful,” I said as she headed out of my room. “See you later.”

  “Bye.”

  As soon as she closed my bedroom door I fell back on my bed and pulled the covers over my head, feeling my face heat up. I was such a chicken! Eventually I’d have to go to school and face Mr. Heywood in class. But after last night, how could I? How could I act as if he was only my teacher and nothing more? Surely it wouldn’t be any different than before . . . except now I knew he thought of me as more than his student.

  Why did Mr. Heywood have to be my teacher?

  A small groan erupted from me as I pressed my comforter harder into my face. Mr. Heywood and I didn’t even have a chance to talk about what happened last night. We took the food from Osaka home to eat at our house, but everyone wrapped up quickly since it was a school night and my mom and Jeremy never left Mr. Heywood and me alone again. Besides, after our conversation in the parking lot, I hadn’t even looked at him again—I was too embarrassed. I shook my head violently, trying to dismiss my thoughts. I needed more sleep, I could think about this later.

  My phone ringing woke me up. It was a muffled sound I could barely hear. I glanced at my side table, wondering why my ring tone was so quiet. Then I remembered my phone was in the living room where I accidentally left it last night after eating. Pushing myself out of the warmth of my bed, I stomped down the hall way and down the stairs to where my phone was.

  “Hello?” I mumbled sleepily, not bothering to check the caller ID.

  “Holly! It’s my first day back in school and you’re not here?” Lance demanded at once.

  I pulled the phone away from my ear in surprise. “Ow, you don’t need to yell.”

  “I’m not!”

  “Sure.”

  Lance sighed. “Why aren’t you in school?

  “Um,” I hesitated. “You know . . . girl problems.”

  “Say no more,” Lance responded quickly.

  I laughed. “Okay.”

  “Are you still going to the festival?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay, just making sure. Are you getting a ride, or should I pick you up?”

  I shrugged, but then remembered he couldn’t see me. “I don’t know. I’ll probably walk. The fair grounds aren’t that far away and—”

  “I’ll pick you up,” Lance interjected before I could finish. “It’s too dangerous for you to be walking alone at night.”

  I frowned slightly. Now he was starting to sound like Mr. Heywood. And he didn’t even know about the whole attempted kidnapping situation. “I can handle myself, Lance.”

  “If they shoot you?”

  “Lance! Don’t say things like that so easily! Who are you with?”

  I could imagine Lance rolling his eyes. “I’m by myself, outside. No one can hear me.”

  “Still,” I growled. “Okay, what time are you picking me up?”

  “Seven,” Lance told me. “Be ready.”

  I nodded, once again forgetting Lance couldn’t see me. “I will.”

  Suddenly I heard another voice that wasn’t Lance’s on the other side of the phone. I thought he said he was alone! I heard Lance and the person arguing quietly, then a weird noise before the new person spoke.

  “Holly?”

  My breath caught in my throat and my eyes widened. “Mr. Heywood?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. Why aren’t you in school today?”

  Suddenly my palms felt sweaty and I looked around wildly, not knowing what to say. I didn’t want to lie to Mr. Heywood, but there was no way I could tell the truth!

  “I just don’t feel well, but I’ve got to go now, bye!” I said in a rush before pulling the phone away and snapping my phone shut.

  My heart was pounding as I stood stock-still, feeling embarrassed again. Why did I hang up so quickly? I hadn’t even said goodbye to Lance. Wait. How could Lance have called? He didn’t have his phone.

  My recent calls showed that Lance had used Mr. Heywood’s phone to call me. I frowned, feeling bad for hanging up now. Clicking on his name, I started a text message and quickly wrote an apology for hanging up. I hit send and quickly stuffed my phone in my pocket.

  Not even a minute later my phone buzzed in my pocket. After a brief moment of hesitation I pulled it open and read the text message from him.

  We need to talk.

  For a moment I panicked, thinking something was wrong. But there couldn’t be. I didn’t do anything, nor did he. Anyway, he was right: we did need to talk
. I hit the reply button and wrote I agree before tossing the phone onto the couch.

  I could really use a long, warm shower.

  After I had showered, I passed the time passed curled up on my couch with a book. When my stomach started to rumble, I decided it was time to get something to eat. Going back downstairs, I passed the living room, glancing quickly at the couch where my phone still lay. I’d check it after I ate.

  After a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup I trudged to the couch and picked up my phone. One new text message. I opened it; already knowing it was from Mr. Heywood.

  Are you going to the festival tonight? Maybe I’ll see you.

  My brows furrowed in confusion. Did I tell him I was going to the festival? I couldn’t remember. When I clicked reply, I noticed that it was not Mr. Heywood’s number who sent the text message. It was Lance’s.

  Instantly my heartbeat increased and I gripped the phone harder. What did Shawn mean by that? Was he going to the festival too? Was he going to try something? Suddenly I felt sick. I collapsed onto the couch, staring dumbly at my phone. Should I tell someone? Or was Shawn just trying to mess with me?

  I snapped my phone shut. Shawn was just trying to play games. Why would he try something right after one of his followers was thrown in jail? It was too risky. If I didn’t reply to his messages, he’d eventually figure out I wasn’t going to play along. Smiling, I went back to my book. I had nothing to worry about. But there was a knot in my stomach, an increase of my pulse, a whispering voice in my head . . .

  Seven o’clock really needed to come faster. I needed to have fun and take my mind off things.

  Five knocks on my front door made me jump violently, dropping my book. I quickly grabbed my bag and headed to the door, opening it to reveal Lance grinning at me. He quickly pulled me into a hug and I laughed.

  “Excited much?”

  “Hey, you try sitting in a hospital for nearly three weeks. It’s awful,” Lance retorted, nudging me in the side with his elbow. “Let’s go. Casey’s already in the car.”

  Lance started down my driveway as I locked my front door. Casey grinned at me as I approached the car, waving from the back seat. I walked around to the other side of the car and climbed in the back with her as Lance slid into the driver’s seat.