Page 7 of Life Lessons

“Oh no you don’t. First the hair and now tattoos? You need to have your premadonna moment in less permanent ways or daddy might stop your precious allowance,” I mock with pouty lips. Her sneer makes me grin as she yanks against my hold, but it’s too strong for her to break.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. We were born in the same decade.” Ugh, the word decade makes me feel old as fuck and I quickly release her, remembering my position. There’s just something so infuriating about her that makes me want to lash out and teach her a lesson she’ll never forget. Our eyes stare into one another’s, a silent challenge passing between us. I will break her and she will accept it. End of story.

“Jethro? What are you doing out here?” I swivel at the man’s voice and stand in front of Nightingale, in protection or embarrassment, I’m not sure. Danny is walking towards me with his foster brother, Sam. The pair of them are almost unrecognisable out of their Willowmead PE sport’s uniforms. I suddenly remember myself, smiling widely to greet the only two people I can call friends.

“Me? I’m just running the usual errands, what about you guys? How come you’ve stuck around this weekend?” Danny clasps my hand while Sam dives on me for a bear hug and ruffles my hair.

“Thornton wants to host a sports rally around March and we’ve been lumbered with organizing it. You have no idea how much paperwork and planning goes into one of these events so we have to get started early to make sure all the special permissions are in place. This year’s football team is one of the best we’ve had in a long time, so he wants to show off. Four other schools and the parents will all be invited, everyone’s gotta be on top form.” Sam eyes me closely and I give him a shove. Thornton can invite the president or Queen if he feels like it, doesn’t mean I have to do shit. In fact, I’ll just take a leave of absence that day.

“Anyways, we’re done for today so we’re just heading for a few beers. Fancy joining us?” I begin to walk after Danny when Nightingale coughs dramatically for my attention. Oh fuck, I forgot all about her. Grabbing my keys out of my pocket, I toss them over for her to catch.

“Here, Newbie, I’m releasing you from detention the rest of the weekend. We’ve both been punished enough. Take my car back to campus, put away my groceries, and post the keys through the letterbox.” Her hands immediately open and my keys fall to the ground, her hands shaking from side to side. I raise an eyebrow, holding back an order to do as I fucking say. Between her wide eyes and the sudden loss of colour to her skin, I’d say this isn’t purely stubbornness to ride without an appointed driver. Ahh, I bet she can’t actually drive. That’s it.

“Hey, I’ve got to grab my payslip anyway.” Sam walks past me to pick up the keys from the floor. “I’ll drive her back, you guys start without me.” Nightingale steps closer to Sam, smiling gently at his offer. I watch the interaction too closely, hating the way she walks by his side towards my car without a trace of argument. After fighting me on every aspect of today, her change in attitude irritates me. No, that’s an understatement—it pisses me the hell off. And when Sam’s hand softly touches the small of her back to guide her around the vehicle, I see red.

We’re all professional when it comes to the students, no amount of exposed cleavage or short skirts can sway us. But still, something about his easy grin makes me want to punch him in the face and drive Nightingale back myself. Pushing my hands into my jean pockets, I turn away and steel myself. What’s gotten into me? The engine roars to life and I try to ignore it, but as the car starts to back away, I can’t help but look.

The first thing I notice is her teeth gleaming within a wide smile. The second is that she’s in the passenger seat, her shoulders relaxed, and whole attitude at ease. Sam’s arm reaches around the back of her seat to reverse out of the lot and I don’t miss the way she looks across at him from under her eyelashes. Fuck Sam right now for being such a good looking guy.

Despite the pair of them being adopted separately by a rich, infertile couple, Danny and Sam look so similar, everyone refers to them as twins—and they encourage it. I reckon it was a deliberate adoption choice, especially since their parents chose to celebrate their birthdays on the same day as well.

Like Danny, Sam has sandy blond hair and light stubble. They’re six foot and lean, the sporty occupation they’ve chosen allowing their clothes to always be tight enough to show off their muscles. I know this, and I’m used to it. Yet the look Nightingale is giving my friend still triggers something within me. Something fierce and ugly. As they drive away at a reasonable speed, her laughter floats out of the open window.

Danny notices the tension riding me, his hand on my shoulder trying to shake me back to reality. I bite my inner cheek, my chest heaving with whatever is clawing at me from the inside. Is it anger? No, rage? Same thing. Jealousy? That can’t be right. Shaking him off, I change course and lead him in the direction of Vipers, the only place in this town to get a hard drink served by a hot waitress desperate for tips. And it’s my tip she’ll be getting tonight.

Gentle sunbeams light up my room and wakes me up far too early. Looking over at the clock, it’s only six on a Sunday morning, I groan. I don’t know why I am so pissed. It’s not like I have got much sleep for the last four months anyway. But last night I just felt extra irritable. For the first time I wasn’t woken repeatedly by the same nightmare. Instead I dreamt of those piercing hazel eyes, and how pissed they looked as I drove home with Mr Pemberley.

Flashbacks from yesterday keep coming back to me, and even though I cannot stand Mr Caine and the vindictive, cocky smirk that seems to be constantly plastered on his face. I can’t deny that there’s something about him that makes me curious. He seems so guarded and there are times on the car drive into town when I cast a glance his way and notice in the companionable silence that he drops his act and he just looks lost.

Gone is the teacher who doesn’t give a shit, or the sarcastic sneer he uses on everyone. Instead, all I can see is an emptiness that I can relate to on a very deep level. I’ve no idea why Mr Caine behaves the way he does, but I have a very strong feeling that he knows true pain. The kind that knocks you off your feet, empties your body of everything meaningful, leaving just an empty shell whilst filling your soul with a darkness that threatens to consume your every waking moment.

That is how I feel right now. Like every moment is a battle not to let the darkness win, not to allow it to consume me. I know that I need to keep my mind active, to stop moping, and the best way to do that is to move. So I start to get myself ready to go for a run. I love to run, but despite having the campus mapped out, it would take physical exploration to find the best path for me. I figured this time on a Sunday morning is perfect as everyone will still be asleep.

Trix messaged me at like three in the morning to tell me that the party in the dorms was still going on, and she begged me to come. She had text every thirty minutes since it started at 10pm, but she knew I wasn’t a party person, at least not anymore.

Pulling on my leggings, I glance over at my old running shorts, but I quickly dismiss them. I hated having my legs on show. My tattoo artist, Mike, had refused to ink over the scars until they were properly healed. The skin grafts I had needed on my legs were ugly, with raised purple scars running up and down my thighs like lightning bolts. I’m counting down the days and hospital visits until I’m given the all clear. You would think after four months that they would be healed already, but it wasn’t as simple as that. I had needed more than one surgery thanks to the crush impact, and had a fractured left femur, exactly where the car hit and the dashboard folded in on top of me. The pins holding my femur in place will always be there, a constant reminder of what happened. So, when I feel some aches or pains from overusing my leg, I ignore it. In fact, I welcome the pain. It is my punishment.

Throwing on a sports bra, I contemplate putting on a baggy t-shirt over the top, but nobody will be out this morning and surprisingly it’s not too cold. It’s strange for it to be this warm this late in September. So, I decide to take the risk. I start by doing all the stretches and leg exercises my physical therapist taught me. When my parents were told I had received a crush injury from the impact and was having my femur pinned, the first thing they realised is that I might be disabled if I can’t walk properly. And there’s no way they could tolerate a less than perfect Nightingale, so they hired a physical therapist who literally dragged my ass out of bed on a daily basis and helped me learn to walk, then jog, and then run. Without him I think I would be in a real state now because the darkness was so overwhelming in the early days that even opening my eyes hurt. But, he made me, and right now I am grateful as it strengthened my leg enough that four months in, I am able to run. I have my limits, but I always push them.

Feeling myself begin to sink back into the memories of my past, I push through it. Putting my phone in the arm holder I wear, I put my earbuds in and activate my running playlist before heading out of the door. Leaving the building, I look around trying to decide the best plan of action. I decide to run around the periphery of the grounds and map out the best route for my future runs.

Making my way to the fence closest to the staff accommodation, I push through a large overgrowth of bushes and trees. I watch where I step so as to not fall over any rogue branches and what I see makes me wish I hadn’t looked down. Behind the overgrowth that effectively hides the fence from the school’s view, is a beautiful patch of well maintained grass. The dirt edges surrounding show that this is obviously an area known for if you want to have a good time. There are empty bottles of several different types of alcohol littered around and one or two used condoms that truly disgusts me. I step over the mess and try to ignore it.

Getting ready to start my run, I am distracted by a car pulling up on the other side of the fence. I know I’m not breaking any rules by being here, but I don’t want to be associated with the mess and get myself into more trouble. So, I hide behind the biggest tree I can find and wait for them to leave.

I notice that the car is a taxi, but the shadows from my tree cast over the person exiting the car, making it difficult for me to see who it is. I can tell by the height that it is a man, and given the way he is stumbling, it’s obvious he has been on a bender. The figure walks towards the fence, and I quickly realise it is Mr Caine. He is still wearing the clothes from our detention, only now they are looking slightly more disheveled. The shirt he is wearing is missing a couple of buttons and is covered in what looks to be a deep purple lipstick. I don’t know why the sight of lipstick on his shirt bothers me, but it does. I never had him down as a player. Fuck, what is my brain talking about? I don’t know anything about him and I don’t need to. He is my teacher! That is all I need to know. But no matter how many times I repeat that to myself and say to quite literally run away, my feet won’t move.

The rattling of the chain link fence as it is being pulled apart drags my mind back to the present. There is a hidden break in the fence that unless you knew it was there, you would have no idea that the fence is even damaged, yet Mr Caine seems to know exactly where the break is. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he made it for his own personal gain. With expert precision he slides his body through the break before turning and placing the sides back together again. The fence looks exactly as it did before. This is not his first time sneaking back onto campus, that’s for sure. I smile at the knowledge that I now have something to hold over the lazy prick if he starts on me again during class. I am tempted to take my phone out and take a picture as evidence, but by the time I think of that it is too late and he is moving away from the fence. It’s also too late for me because he is walking straight towards me.

Looking around like a deer in headlights for somewhere to hide, but not seeing anywhere, I realise he’s going to see me. So I may as well let him know that I saw everything and if he even tries to mess with me, I will use it. The result is my face entering resting bitch mode, an expression he must be used to by now, and I cock my hip with my hand on it for good measure. When he finally sees me, we stand less than a meter away from each other and time freezes. I feel like I can’t even take a breath.

At first Mr Caine looks startled to see me, and then a bit confused, but that expression is soon replaced by something else. His eyes lazily roam over my body and I realise this is the first time he is seeing me when I’m not covered in baggy clothes. The short sports bra shows off all of my stomach and my arms, which also reveals a few of my tattoos. They all look random, but they have personal meanings, ones I don’t openly share. And right now I can feel his eyes assessing them, along with my curves. Having a man look at me in this way sets my body on fire and I can’t deny the heat I feel in my core.

As quickly as his gaze roams my body, making me feel naked, it soon swaps back to the disinterested, exhausted face that I’m used to. He completely disregards the way he was just looking at me, making me question if he really looked at me with the fire I was sure I saw. I know it’s been a while since I felt that spark, but there’s no denying it happened. I just wish it wasn’t my fucking asshole of a teacher that was able to make me feel for the first time in a long time.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Little Bird? You better not be spying on me!” he says with suspicion, lacing his voice. I can’t hold back the laugh that escapes at the stupidity of that question.

“How the fuck would I be spying on you? I was out for a run and I saw something suspicious. It turned out to be a drunk teacher, breaking and entering back onto campus after a wild night with some bimbo who wears a horrible shade of lipstick. You might want to wash your cock, Sir. It looks like it’s the type that stains.” As I say the words, I feel the blush creep up my cheeks as I realise my mouth did not actually say the word I wanted it to. I wanted to tell him it was his top that could stain. How the fuck did that translate to cock? I mean, I’m not wrong. That shit type of lipstick gets everywhere and stains without the right kind of make-up remover. Shit, now I am thinking of what his cock might look like with lipstick stains on it and I can’t help that my gaze moves to his crotch.

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