HEADMASTER

by Jaimie Roberts

  I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I’m finished for today. What about you?”

  “I was only hanging around because you were still here. I can’t leave the premises if there are still students milling around.”

  My mouth slightly parts. “You were only here because of me?” Now I feel guilty.

  “Don’t give me that look, Sasha. There’s nothing to feel guilty about. I’m doing my job. Someone has to stay behind and it was me who volunteered today. I could have gone home, but I chose to stay. Besides, I’m still fairly new here—still very much trying to find my feet.”

  I can’t help the smile that rises. “When you’re not wearing Nikes.”

  Smiling, Easton crosses his arms in front of him. “You know, I’m starting to think you have some sort of foot fetish.”

  I gasp, not hiding my shock. “Don’t be silly.” I feel my face flush with embarrassment. I don’t have a foot fetish. I have an Easton fetish. That’s the difference.

  Laughter erupts in the room, but as soon as our eyes lock, the laughter stops. My heart starts to pick up, but for different reasons this time. His eyes are the most hypnotic eyes I have ever seen. I could seriously get lost staring into those deep brown eyes of his.

  I don’t know if I’m imagining things, but Easton doesn’t turn away. It’s like some unseen force is locking us together. I can’t look away, and it seems he can’t either.

  Does he feel it? Or am I just imagining things? Maybe this crush of mine is playing tricks with my head. He and I both know that from the moment we both walked into this school that first morning that we were both strictly off limits.

  It’s the clearing of his throat and his eyes averting mine that breaks the spell. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

  Yes. It’s probably best that I do. Being in the same room is not only doing crazy shit to my heart and my stomach. It’s also doing crazy shit to my libido. I honestly didn’t realise I had one until Easton walked into my life.

  “What are you thinking about?” Easton asks, hoisting my bag over his shoulder as we take the walk towards my house.

  I smile because I know I can’t tell him the wicked thoughts I have over him. It’ll make me look like a silly school girl with a crush. I know that’s what I am, but I do have some dignity.

  “How’s your family back in Scotland? Have you seen any of them since being here?”

  “Hmm,” he answers, scrutinising me. “That’s not what you were thinking about at all, but okay. I haven’t seen any of my family. Well, apart from my twin brother. He likes to turn up unannounced at times. What a pain in the arse.”

  “You have a twin?” I ask, surprised.

  “I told you I was one of five brothers.”

  “Yes, but you never told me one of them was your twin. Do you look the same?” If there’s two of him roaming the earth, then I’m done for.

  “We look the same, but we don’t share the same personality.”

  “In what way?” I ask, feeling curious.

  I watch him think on an answer before responding. “He’s … how do you say? Into the ladies.”

  I smirk. “And you’re not?” He fixes me with a look that makes me laugh.

  “I am into ladies, but not as much as my brother. He’ll sleep with anything with a pulse.”

  I smirk. “And you don’t, I suppose? Are you just picky?” I start laughing when I see his expression.

  “I don’t think I like your tone, young lady.”

  My God, that accent does things to my insides. If that wasn’t bad enough, he then smiles. My face immediately heats in response.

  “I’m only teasing,” I offer, trying to get my breathing under control.

  “I know,” he answers, smirking. “I love ladies, but I’m not the kind of person to sleep with just anyone. I have to have a connection with them first at least. Take them out on a couple of dates beforehand, maybe.”

  As we walk, I briefly look at him, and remember that first night we met when he wanted to take me back to his place. As if sensing why I’m looking, he says, “You were the exception, of course.” He clears his throat, looking away. Is he embarrassed?

  “You don’t have to get embarrassed about telling me. I remember I let something slip to you only the other day.” I bite my lip remembering that afternoon outside of the pub. I often wondered if admitting I was jealous was the right thing to do, but in the end, I thought that if nothing could ever come of us, there was no reason to be dishonest. “It’s actually rather refreshing to be honest, don’t you think? We can’t go beyond the student/teacher relationship, so why not? At least there’s no game playing. There’s some books I’ve read—and I’ve read a lot of them—and whenever there’s a romance involved they’re always playing games with each other. I often wondered why people even bothered to date if it’s that complicated.” I look across at Easton and notice his amused expression. “Sorry. Am I waffling?”

  He shakes his head. “No, not at all. I was just thinking how hard it is to see you as an eighteen-year-old girl. You seem so mature for your age.”

  I think about all the times I used to have a teenage hissy fit with Liam and it makes me laugh. “Oh, I’m not sure about that, but I’m learning. Every day I’m learning.”

  “And every day you will continue to learn. No one is an expert. I think about all the books I’ve read, and places I’ve explored, but there are still so many more books to read and places to explore.”

  Wanting to know more, I ask, “What places have you explored?”

  His eyes flit towards me with a smile. “On my twenty-first birthday, I climbed Kilimanjaro—”

  “Wow,” I say, interrupting him a moment.

  “Don’t say wow yet. You don’t know what’s coming.” He has a slight twinkle in his eyes as he says it.

  “What?” I playfully nudge him to say more.

  “The whole time, I had the skitters. To make matters worse, on the fourth day, my big toenail on my right foot turned black, and the entire toenail just fell off. To this day, it has never grown back.”

  My eyes widen. “God, that sounds awful! Is your toe okay?”

  He nods with a devilish smile. “Yes, it’s fine now. Sometimes, it gets a bit stiff, but at least I didn’t lose it.”

  “Do you regret doing it?”

  He shakes his head. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t have changed a thing.”

  “That’s good,” I answer on a sigh. “One more question, though.”

  “What?” he asks, turning his head towards me with his right eyebrow raised.

  “What are the skitters?”

  Throwing his head back, he howls with laughter. I watch—utterly transfixed by his innate beauty. His laughter is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

  “Have I said something funny?” He’s still laughing as I watch with a huge grin on my face.

  “Not at all,” he finally answers between laughs. “It’s just that I sometimes forget my audience. ‘Skitters’ is the Scottish term for diarrhoea.”

  “I kind of thought it was something like that, but I didn’t want to embarrass myself by just assuming.”

  “Believe me when I say that there is nothing more embarrassing than having the skitters at fifteen thousand feet in front of a bunch of people you’ve never met before.”

  I chuckle. “Oh, I bet.” After a second I ask, “Where else have you explored?” He fixes me with that look again. “What?”

  “You do really ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

  I shrug, and before I can even stop myself, I say, “I guess only having one person to talk to for years does—” I stop myself mid-sentence. I certainly didn’t mean to say that. Normally, I’m so cautious when it comes to that life. I was a different person back then, and I don’t care to revisit that time or who I was during it.

  Closing my eyes, I open them to find Easton looking at me expectantly. I can tell he’s a little shocked, but also intrigued. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anythi
ng.” My body stiffens at the unwanted memories.

  “Oh no, young lass, you’re not going to do that to me.”

  Perplexed, I turn to gaze at him questioningly. “Do what?”

  “Clamp down on me like that.” I see the determination in his face when he says, “Come on. Tell me. What’s your favourite book?”

  I shake my head, completely dumbfounded. “What?” I ask with a chuckle.

  “You ask me lots of questions. It’s only fair that I get to do the same. Come on. What’s your favourite book?”

  Smirking at him, I say, “Watchers.”

  “The same book I was reading the night you met me?”

  I nod. “The very same one.”

  “Okay. Favourite food?”

  I can’t help smiling at his earnest face. He really is trying here.

  And I can’t help but fall that little bit more for Mr Lockhart.

  “Does chips dipped in strawberry milkshake count?” Easton pulls a disgusted face making me laugh.

  “You do what?”

  “Dip chips in strawberry milkshake. Have you never tried it?”

  “Ugh, no. And why would I ever put myself through that?”

  “Well, if you don’t know what it tastes like then how can you mock it?”

  He stays silent for a moment before turning to face me. “That is true. I’ll give you that.”

  “Whenever you’re in, give it a try. I guarantee you’ll never look back.”

  His face is unsure as he stares back. “I’m not sure about that, but I promise you I’ll try.”

  “So, what’s your favourite book?”

  He thinks on it for a moment. “It’s hard to pinpoint a particular book, but I can pinpoint a particular author. James Patterson.”

  I’m surprised, but mostly because I remember reading every single one of his books when I was in captivity. “You like your action packed, police thrillers, huh?”

  “There are many of them.”

  “There definitely is. He’s a prolific writer. I seriously don’t know how he does it.”

  “Ah, you can do just about anything if you set your mind to it.”

  “Did you always know you wanted to be a teacher?” I can guess by the look on his face that he wasn’t expecting that question. He certainly has to think a little while before an answer is forthcoming.

  “I guess I did. It was either teaching, or being an artist, and I know which one will definitely work out.”

  My reprimanding look doesn’t go unnoticed. “If you were given the choice, what would you rather do?”

  “It’s not so much about what I’d rather do; it’s more about what is realistic.”

  “So, you’re saying that there are no artists out there?”

  “I’m saying that there are a lot more failed artists out there than successful ones.”

  My lips thin as I gaze back at him. “That’s doesn’t answer my question.”

  He starts laughing. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  I nod my head and smile. “I also said—in so many words—that honesty was the best policy. If not for my sake, be honest with yourself. If you had the chance, which one would you choose?”

  I already know the answer, but I can tell he’s not keen to utter the words out loud. It’s almost as if by saying them, he’ll be revealing his vulnerability.

  “I would be an artist. To be very honest, it’s been a dream of mine to own a gallery back in Edinburgh one day.”

  When I smile brightly back at Easton, he cocks his head, obviously intrigued. “I’m going to repeat something a very wise man said to me once.”

  “Oh yeah?” he asks. I can tell he’s hanging on to my every word. “Yes. He once said that you could do just about anything if you set your mind to it.”

  Smirking, he answers, “Touché.”

  Looking up to the flat where I live, I place my hands in my coat pockets. It’s suddenly gotten very cold now that I know the warmth of Easton will be gone once I walk upstairs. “This is me.”

  He looks up a moment before glancing back down at me. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  He then hands me my rucksack and turns to leave. The thought of him going brings a slight fluttering feeling to my stomach. I want to hold onto this moment a little longer. I know I can’t pursue him in that way, but I also can’t help the words that come flying out of my mouth.

  “Unless you’d like to come in for a quick cup of tea? It’s cold out, and it’s the least I can offer you for walking me home.”

  I close my eyes as he starts to turn back. I’m stupid. I know I’m being stupid. He’s going to rebuff me and I’m going to look like a silly school girl with a crush. When I open my eyes again, Easton’s standing before me, and his eyes are searching mine. “Sorry. I know I keep saying that, but I am. I know I shouldn’t be inviting you—”

  “A cup of tea would be lovely,” he says, smiling as he walks past me towards the entrance of the block of flats. Not knowing what to do at first, I stand there staring like an idiot. It’s only when he turns at the front door and says, “So are you going to let me in?” that I start moving.

  “Oh,” I say, a little out of sorts as I fumble with my keys. I can feel him watching me as I place the key in the lock and let us in. Instead of it making me feel awkward, all I feel is heat. Pure, red-blooded, intoxicating heat. I know this is a very bad idea, but my body is doing all the talking right now.

  And my body wants Easton.

  Shaking my head of my errant thoughts, I take the stairs to the second floor. We have a lift, but I often use the stairs. It’s only a couple of flights, after all.

  Once inside, Easton takes in the surroundings, no doubt noticing how snug the place is. There’s only my mother and I, so it’s more than adequate enough for just the two of us.

  “Make yourself at home. I’ll be just a minute.” Easton nods his head as I make my way through the hallway and into my room. I feel conscious now I’m home, and especially so with my uniform on. It’s stupid as I know nothing can happen between us, but I feel it’s somehow wrong of me to be wearing it in front of him. Like we’re doing something considered taboo.

  As quick as a flash, I strip out of my uniform and change into a snug pair of jeans and an I heart New York t-shirt. I walk through finding Easton sat at the dining table still looking around the place. As if sensing I’m there, his eyes flit to me, and I notice the slight perusal he makes of my attire.

  “You love New York, huh?” he asks, with a sexy grin.

  “I’ve never been, but would love to go. It’s on my bucket list.”

  I sit down next to him as he says, “What else is on there?”

  My eyes move from his as embarrassment reddens my cheeks. He nudges me. “Come on. You can tell me. I can keep a secret.”

  Looking back, I see the eagerness in his eyes to learn more. Why he’s so interested in me, I have no idea. He should be out with women his own age rather than sitting with this eighteen-year-old that’s hardly had a chance to live life.

  Something in him calls to me, though. It’s like he makes me feel that it’s okay to think and feel what I do—that I should never feel ashamed or embarrassed of anything. It’s hardly any wonder that he’s managed to climb the ranks so quickly.

  “I want to explore New York, kiss on top of the Empire State Building, honeymoon in Mauritius and go snorkelling with my husband in the crystal clear waters. I want to drink champagne on the London Eye, swim with dolphins in Mexico, Eat Paella in Spain, run through a field of sunflowers in Tuscany, go parasailing in Florida, walk along the Great Wall of China, feed koala bears in Australia, and most of all, I want to do it all with the man I love.”

  I take a deep breath and it’s only when I see the expression of Easton’s face that I clear my throat, my cheeks reddening again with embarrassment. “You’re probably wondering why you asked,” I say, chuckling a little. When he doesn’t answer at first, I look back at him and he’s wearing that same
expression. It’s hard to tell what it is he’s feeling. Is it shock? Bewilderment?

  Suddenly, as if realising he should talk, Easton clears his throat. “You’re a romantic at heart.” He fixes me with his eyes, and I almost melt under the intensity of stare. He’s utterly hypnotic.

  In an attempt at feeling less affected by him, I shrug my shoulders. “I guess I’ve had a long time to think about it. I just want to feel free more than anything else. Freedom is a great feeling. As long as I have that, I’m okay.”

  Easton smiles. It’s a knowing smile. He doesn’t have to say anything to me to know he understands where I’m coming from. Three years of near constant captivity does that to you.

  Realising my manners, I get up from my seat. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t even asked you. Do you take sugar in your tea?”

  Easton’s crooked smile makes my stomach flip. “No, thank you. I’m sweet enough as it is,” he jokes.

  “You’re telling me,” I mutter under my breath.

  “What was that?” he calls from the living room as I disappear into the kitchen.

  “I said I’d be as quick as I could be,” I shout back, shaking my head. I never in a millions years imagined I would be stood here making Easton a cup of tea.

  As the kettle boils, I make quick check of the time. It’s almost five, which means my mum will be back in an hour. I’m thinking Easton won’t want to meet my mum. It could get complicated rather quickly. I’m sure once he has his tea he’ll be off. He must have better things to do anyway.

  As the tea’s stewing, I grab some Custard Creams, Bourban’s, and Rich Tea biscuits, displaying them as best I can on a plate. I grab a tray, placing everything on it before making my way out to Easton. He’s still in the same spot, eagerly waiting on his cup of tea.

  “Here it is,” I say, quickly placing everything down on the table. I’m scared I’ll drop everything if I hold onto it any longer. Just being in the same room with this man does things to me it shouldn’t.

  “Thank you,” he answers, grabbing a Custard Cream and dunking it into his tea.

  “Ah, you’re a dunker, I see.”

  “A what now?” he asks with the last remnants of his biscuit.

  I giggle. “You’re a dunker,” I explain, pointing towards his cup of tea. “You like to dunk your biscuits.”