A Proscriptive Relationship (11 page)

Mr. Heywood grinned. “I just get a feeling from you.”

I couldn’t help but smile back at him. I was seeing him in a new light now. But seeing him in this new light made my heartbeat increase, and my stomach churn. I couldn’t pull gaze away from his handsome face. Even though I hadn’t had much to do with guys, I definitely recognized these feelings. And it wasn’t a good sign.

LESSON EIGHT

The air had become considerably colder after two more trips around on the Ferris wheel. Now that I had become use to the height I was enjoying the ride. Mr. Heywood sat beside me, keeping silent after spilling part of his past. The ride suddenly came to a halt, stopping us at the very top again. I moved close to the side of the compartment so I could look down. Mr. Heywood moved as well, shaking the compartment. A startled gasp escaped my lips and I jerked away from the edge, smashing my head against Mr. Heywood’s.

“
Ow,” I complained, bring a hand to the back of my head.

Mr. Heywood grinned at me. “You have a hard head.”

“
No, you do,” I responded, frowning.

Mr. Heywood rolled his eyes, nodding to the left. “Aren’t those your friends?”

Following his finger, I located a few familiar faces that sent of a jolt of surprise through me. Lance and Casey were standing in line for the Ferris wheel along with Sam and Danielle. Panic gripped me, and I looked back at Mr. Heywood—who didn’t look concerned.

“
They are going to see us!” I told him in a frantic whisper.

“
Why does it matter?” he responded, vaguely bemused.

“
Because,” I started, ducking my head, “Casey has it in her head that something might be going on with us, or will be, so if she sees us together she’ll think she’s right. And Lance . . . ugh, I don’t even want to think about what he’ll do. I ditched him to follow you and didn’t even leave him a note or anything so he probably hates me.”

Mr. Heywood chuckled. “You seem to have dug yourself a pretty deep grave.”

I glared at him. “Thank you for your concern.”

“
Any time,” he responded with a wink.

The wheel began moving again, slowly, with pauses to change riders. Rolling my eyes, I dropped my head into my hands, thinking hard. How would I be able to get us out of this situation? It was impossible. I quickly counted the groups of people in line, and then the number of compartments ahead of ours. Just our luck. They would get our compartment. That meant they’d definitely see us.

Our compartment was almost down to ground level. “Put your head down,” Mr. Heywood ordered, motioning to his chest. “Face into my chest, and wrap your arms around my neck.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it,” he ordered, taking the back of my head and forcing it into his chest.

A muffled cry escaped my lips and I felt his chest reverberate with quiet laughter. He then grabbed my arms and wrapped them around his neck. A few seconds later I felt him pulling my hair over the bit of my face that was showing. I kept my face pressed into his chest, sitting as still as possible.

“Can we go once more around?” I heard Mr. Heywood ask in a very persuasive voice.

“Uh, sure,” another voice, I presumed the worker’s, responded, and the compartment kept moving.

“Hey, Mr. Heywood!” I heard Casey cry and felt him nod in response.

I bit my lip in anxiety, silently begging for Casey not to notice me. After a minute I felt Mr. Heywood pulling away from me, and I quickly tightened my arms around his neck.

“Holly,” he started, prying his hands off me. “It’s all clear. They got on a few compartments below us.”

I quickly pushed myself away from him. “Um, thanks.”

“Any time,” he responded with a grin.

When the Ferris wheel came back full circuit, the worker opened the compartment door to let us out. I nearly jumped out, keeping my head down. Mr. Heywood followed, also keeping his head down, and together we hurried as fast as we could away from the attraction.

“
Let’s get you home,” he said, pulling me in the direction of the parking lot.

We made it to the parking lot without trouble. A chilly wind nipped at my exposed skin and I shivered, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Mr. Heywood guided me through the dark, coming to a stop at his car. He fumbled with his keys for a second before opening the passenger door for me. I quickly slid in while he hurried to the other side of the car, climbing in the driver’s seat.

Mr. Heywood started the car and glanced at me. “Do you have service on your cell phone?”

My eyes widened and I gasped, digging my hand into my pocket. My cell phone! I fumbled with it for a minute, realizing it was off. Scowling, I pressed the on button. My phone had a horrible habit of turning off randomly. When it loaded, text message after text message arrived. After seven text messages, my missed calls showed up. There were fifteen of them. I checked those first. Ten from Lance, and five from Casey. I didn’t even bother to read the text messages. I flipped open my phone and held down the 1 button, speed-dialing Casey.

“
Holly!” Casey cried after the first ring.

“
Hi.”

“
Where are you?” she demanded. “Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you? I thought you got kidnapped! Lance said you were there one second and gone the next! And Sam said he saw you going into the forest!”

“
Calm down,” I said, looking over at Mr. Heywood, who was focusing on the heat control, but I knew he was eavesdropping. “I’m okay, I just ran into . . . an old friend.”

Mr. Heywood glanced at me, smirking. I turned away from him. I wasn’t good at thinking on the spot.

“
You could have at least called!” a new voice with a British accent cried.

“
Lance!” I heard Casey shout. “Give that back!”

“
In a minute,” Lance responded. “You could have at least called, Holly!”

“
Sorry, Lance,” I said with a sigh. I had really hoped I wouldn’t have to talk to Lance. “I forgot I had my phone. It was off.”

“
You had me—
us
worried sick!”

“
Sorry, I really am,” I apologized again. “It’s just, I didn’t want to let him out of my sight.”

“
Him?”

Crap. “Yeah, my friend.”

“
Where are you now?”

“
On my way home.

My phone beeped and I looked at it quickly. The low battery sign was flashing. Sighing I placed the phone against my ear again. “Look,” I started, “I’ve got to go. My phone is dying.”

“
Are you with the guy now?”

“
Yeah, he’s bringing me home. I’ll talk to you later,” I responded quickly, my phone beeping again.

“
Wait, Holly!”

“
Bye!”

Hitting the end button, I disconnected the call and shut off my cell phone. I put it back into my pocket, letting out a little yawn. Mr. Heywood lifted an eyebrow, now pulling out of the parking lot. “Lance seemed very worried about you,” he commented casually.

“
Yeah,” I responded wearily. “That’s just him, though. It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“
That’s sweet,” Mr. Heywood responded with a nod. “Maybe he likes you?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “No way. He’s my best friend. Besides, he likes someone else.”

“
Who?”

“
He won’t tell me,” I responded with a shrug. “He’s sure she won’t go out with him.”

“
Why does he think that?”

“
I don’t know. We were talking, and he said there was no way she would go out with him. Even though I personally think anyone would go out with him.”

“
Would you?” Mr. Heywood asked, looking at me from the corner of his eye.

I shook my head. “What? No, we’re just friends. I’ve never thought of him like that . . . we’re just friends.” For some reason, I felt like I was explaining my friendship with Lance to my boyfriend.

Mr. Heywood chuckled. “Did he ask you that too?”

I nodded. “I gave him the same answer. But it’s only me, I’m sure everyone else would want to.”

“
You’re so . . .”

“
What?” I asked.

“
Never mind,” Mr. Heywood responded, shaking his head and grinning. “I guess it’s best if you don’t know.”

“
Don’t know what?”

“
I don’t know.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting the subject drop. “Whatever.”

It had been one heck of a night. I stole a sidelong glance at Mr. Heywood, who was now focusing on the road. His messy brown hair was more disheveled than usual, and some of it hung loosely in his face. After a moment I caught myself staring and forced my gaze away from him.
He’s my teacher
, I told myself. Nothing good could come from liking a teacher. I had to stop whatever feelings I was beginning to have before they came. Sure, he was a caring, handsome, strong, intelligent man, but that was all.

I almost snorted. Who was I kidding? He was like the dream guy—well, besides the ex-gangster part. But that aside, he was still the type of guy all the girls wanted. And here I was, sitting in his car all alone with him, trying to stop myself from having feelings for him. A wry smile graced my lips.

“How do I get to your house?” Mr. Heywood suddenly asked, breaking the silence. “I think I remember it being somewhere around here . . .”

“Just go down this street,” I told him, pointing to the street that was coming up to our right.

He put his blinker on and made a sharp turn, making me fall against the window. He let out a small snicker and I glared at him, turning my head, and looking out the window. To my surprise, he remembered which house was mine. I looked up at the dark house, immediately scolding myself for not even leaving the outside light on.

“Is anyone home?” Mr. Heywood asked, staring up at my house.

“My mom is staying over a friend’s house due to work,” I told him, unbuckling my seat-belt. “She won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”

Mr. Heywood frowned. “Are you going to be alright alone?”

I shrugged. “I guess. I’ve done it before . . . well not the whole night, but close enough.” Opening the door, I hopped out, sticking my head back in for a second. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Sure,” Mr. Heywood responded, looking at me apprehensively. “You sure you’ll be alright?”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

Mr. Heywood looked like he was about to say more, but before he could I shut the car door. He stayed in the driveway, his headlights lighting up the way to my front door for me as I climbed the path, digging in my front pocket for my keys. When I couldn’t locate them I frowned, sticking my hand in my other front pocket. They both came up empty. I checked my back pockets and came up short again. I looked under the mat for the spare key. It wasn’t there. A groan of frustration left my lips and in one last urge of hope I tried the door, hoping I’d forgotten to lock it. It didn’t open.

“You’re kidding me,” I muttered, glaring at the door. Now what?

Mr. Heywood honked his horn and I jumped violently, turning around to face his car, squinting. He honked again and I slowly made my way back down to the bottom of my driveway. Opening the passenger side, I stuck my head in to frown at him. “What?”

“Why aren’t you going inside?” he demanded, leaning over to look at me better.

I wondered if I should tell him the truth or not. “I, er . . . lost my keys.”

“Don’t you have a spare?”

“It must be inside or something.”

“What are you going to do?” he questioned, frowning at me.

“I’ll just call Casey or Lance and ask if I can spend the night there,” I told him, pulling out my cell phone. I pressed the on button a few times before I remembered it was dead. I groaned in frustration, putting it back in my pocket. I didn’t know either of their numbers by heart.

“Guess I’ll be camping,” I muttered, straightening up. “See you.”

“Whoa, wait!” Mr. Heywood cried and I stopped, looking at him curiously. “You’re not going to stay outside all night,” he told me in a firm voice.

I rolled my eyes. “What am I supposed to do then? Break into my own house?

Mr. Heywood smirked.

“No, I’m not doing that. We keep all our windows locked—it’s no use. I won’t break any.”

He laughed. “No, I’m not telling you to break into your house. You’re coming to my house for the night.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“
Get in,” he ordered.

“
Um, I don’t know . . .”

“
What? Do you want to stay out in the cold?”

I shook my head. “No, but . . .”

“
But what?”

“
You’re my teacher,” I murmured, ducking my head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Mr. Heywood let out a long sigh. “It’d be worse of me to leave my student out in the cold all night, wouldn’t it? Teachers are supposed to help their pupils. Now get in before I force you in.”

I glared at him. “Please?”

“
You don’t need to say please,” he responded with a smug smile. “We both know you want to come over.”

“
Now don’t be too modest,” I muttered, dropping into the passenger seat. “I’m only doing this because I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“
Whatever you say, Holly.”

I stared out the window, refusing to let him get on my nerves. There were butterflies in my stomach as he pulled out of my driveway, heading back down my street.

 
Contrary to my words, I actually was excited to be going to his house—even if he was only helping me because he felt bad. I just hoped I wouldn’t regret the decision.

*

“
This is my apartment,” Mr. Heywood said, opening the white oak door to apartment 215 when we arrived at his apartment complex. “Sorry, it’s kind of messy . . . I’m missing a lady’s hand, you know?”