Chapter Thirty-Nine

His eyes are wide with shock. But...I don't understand. Wouldn't he have liked to hear that. We've had our moments together many a time already. Why is this suddenly strange to him?

"Alice..." He begins with a soft voice. "You should um, you should...get ready." He gulps and I watch his Adam's apple dance from behind the skin of his throat. Is that nervousness I can smell off him? Ian? My Ian... actually nervous? Since when?

"Ian?" I pry as I reach my hand out to grab his white shirt. He pulls my hand away, unplucking my fingers. The gesture almost breaks my heart. Why? Ian had rejected me. Really? What... but I thought we was on the same page....

"Ian why...."

"Don't" he interrupts, halting me in my tracks before I can breathe another word. He holds his index finger against my lips softly. "Please don't ruin this."

"Ruin what?" I press. I shouldn't. But I do.

"You know what." His brows press together in what seems aggravation. Was Ian actually aggravated with me now? Why? What had I done? I give him a confused look. "Ian?"

"No Alice... no alright. Now come on. You should get ready to go school." He prompts, lightly tapping me on the knee and then exiting the bedroom almost immediately as if he had found out I had some sort of disease. Strangely enough, for the first time ever a boy actually really hurt me. Well not a boy, more like I full grown man I shouldn't even be living with let alone thinking about. I was so pushing my look right now and he knew that. Yet I knew him as well. Maybe that's why we were destined. We knew each other inside and out.

It was such a beautiful quality we both had in each other....

Despite how hurt I felt by his unexpected rejection, I just shrugged to myself in the mirror and proceeded to fix my eye liner. Must look perch... must look perch. I un my fingers thoroughly through my long strands and think about how I was hoping to get it cut a few weeks back at the split ends had recently really started to bug me. I pick a strand off and give it a despised kind of pissed off look. I so need some money for a little trim. I sigh in hope. If only.

I proceed to comb my hair gently, whilst thinking about school and the literature revision and most of all thinking about Ian. Sitting there in his white button up shirt, tightening his collar every now and then when his eyes meet mine across the classroom. Never mind what I was playing at. What was he playing at...?? We were both wanting and expecting for the same reason... I pretty sure of it. Unless I'm just the lonely dumb loser who is always wrong about anything and everything.

Now thinking about it, I'm still upset by a few things I did this month lately. Betraying people, telling white lies and then mainly... letting people down. Using them. Biting them and kicking them down when I've had enough. Yup. Pretty much sounds like me ok over.

Probably everything a guy would hate about a girl, but I managed to find my little lover in the end even though there was a very difficult age gap about it.

I come down the stairs half hour later. Ian is starting by his huge white front door, his keys clasped in his hands. He won't look at me and I instantly feel terrible. Have I put him in a dreadful position? Maybe he doesn't like me back. Maybe I'm being too clingy.

He opens the front door for me to exit and follows from behind. When we reach his car, I can hear him grumbling something to himself, but I can't make out what. As we both sit in the car, an awkward moment of Ilene passes between us and all I want to do is get out the car and run a million miles away. I'm filled with embarrassment and wish I could go back in time, take back everything I just let myself say. I'm so stupid. I've made myself look so desperate.

He puts the keys in the engine, the silence filling up with the roaring start-up of the engine. Neither of us speak the whole journey to the school. I wanted to casually start another conversation, unrelated to what had just happened, but it didn't feel right. I could feel the tension between us, and I instantly knew that Ian just quite clearly didn't want to talk. If he did, I'm sure he would have spoken or at least made a sound. Nothing. Nothing at all came from him and it made my heart sink to the very core of my stomach. I wanted the ground to swallow me.

In English later that morning, Ian was 15 minutes late to the lesson which was incredibly odd for him. He was the most punctual teacher I knew. He would never be late. Never. He was always on time.

Then my heart sank...

"Hello class! I'll be taking your lesson today! My name is Miss Sherzing!" Her voice rang through the room like a high-pitched alarm. Her blonde hair sweeping just above her shoulders, curled at the ends. Her eyes were a full brown, and her face was filled with make-up and fake tan. I'm guessing she was about in her 30's, still trying to look like an 18-year-old.

"So today, I'm going to be teaching you "'Of Mice and Men'".

A member of the class's hand shot up. Benny was sitting there, his face filled with annoyance.

Miss Sherzing nodded for him to speak. "What is it?"

"We learnt about that book like a month ago Miss. we've actually been doing practice assignments on meanings of poems!" He was correcting her like so know-it-all student, but I actually like the fact he put her in her place. We had all been enjoying Ian's lessons way more than any other teacher we had ever had, and now she just trots in like she is taking over. Rage boiled within me. Where was he!?

"Well, I'm sorry to say but Mr Dubens isn't here today so I will be teaching you whatever I see fit." She stayed in a firm voice. "Understood?" Suddenly, Benny has sunk down into his chair, his arms folding across his chest like a silky child. I looked around at everyone's disappointed faces and begin to worry. Ian must be in because he drove me to school today and we went into the building together. How can he not be here? Something was definitely going on and I was intent to find out. Maybe it was all my fault. I must have driven him away. I pray to god that this isn't my fault.

After the long and drawn-out lesson, I was quick to leave my seat and run out into the corridor. Ian doing this disappearing act had really been playing on my mind, and my mind had begun to contemplate possibilities. Excuses. Explanations.

I hear a clicking sound down the corridor. When I look over my shoulder, I see one of the English classroom doors being closed. I know I need to go down to the canteen and probably get myself some food, but muffled sounds begin to prick my ear. I slowly walk over to the door, the curiosity poking at me bit by bit. The muffles turn into light noises, the light noises turning into formed words. Mixed words.

Of moans...groans?