I can't hold it back. A hiccup pushes through the lump in my throat and my body deteriorates in a second. I almost crumble to the ground as tears and sobs overwhelm me. My hands hide my face as warm arms come around me and pull me into an even warmer chest.

His comfort is intense. I feel it seep through my skin and bones, but I don't want it. I don't need it. "Stop. Don't hug me. I can't take it." I push away, but his arms hold me tighter.

"I'm sorry that happened to you." He whispers and presses his cheek to my forehead. "Are you hurt?"

"Only my ego," I respond, my body tense as my tears finally subside and my mini meltdown settles. "I'm going to get your shirt dirty."

"I don't care. Are you sure you're not hurt?" He pulls back, his eyes scanning my mess of a face and body for any sign of injury. "You didn't strain yourself, did you?"

I shake my head and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. We both wince when I pull away and see the black smudge of mascara across my wrist.

My hand trembles as I stare at it and the reality of what just happened hits me again. My lip quivers and my teeth bite down on my tongue. "He just threw a hot drink at me.... At my face... who does that?"

Mr Price pulls back and his warm, kind eyes that hide no small amount of controlled anger stare into mine for a seemingly long moment. "I know. That was... it's beyond words. Are you sure you're not hurt?"

I focus, calming my breath with a few shallow intakes and exhales. This gives me a brief moment of clarity, in which I can fully a.s.sess whether or not any part of my face or body hurts. "My lips sting, but I'm okay."

His finger and thumb grip my chin. My lip trembles again, this time at the heat and gentleness of his touch rather than my need to cry. He turns my face to the left and then to the right before smoothing the back of his forefinger over my nose. The motion makes me go cross eyed for a second, making him smile. "You'll have a small bruise on your nose, but it shouldn't give you too much pain." I don't say anything. I can't remember the last time somebody was so gentle and caring with me. "Wash your face; I'll wait for you out there."

I nod but then a thought comes to mind. "What are you doing here, Mr Price?"

"I was stopping in for lunch, seeing as my student didn't show up for her lunchtime lesson."

My heart stops and my mouth falls open. "I... I'm so sorry... I should have called. I totally forg..."

He holds up his finger and leads me by my shoulders to the sink. "I know. It's okay. You can make it up on Monday."

A warm feeling of relief slides through me and my entire body relaxes as I stare at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. "Thank you."

"I'll wait for you in the staff room." And he leaves, closing the door behind him.

I can't believe I just had a meltdown. I can't remember ever having a meltdown in front of anybody, let alone a teacher.

My fingers tremble as I turn on the taps and cup my hands beneath the warm flow of water. I scrub my face vigorously, not caring about washing away the makeup. It only seems to be on my cheeks and around my eye lids now anyway.

My teacher just hugged me.

I want to crawl into a hole and die, but I know the girls need me out there, plus there are no windows in this room, so unless I want to stay in here all day, I have to leave eventually.

After giving myself a mental pep talk, I finally open the door, tugging on my clothing in an attempt to smooth it down as I go. Not that it does much good; it's cold from the damp coffee it absorbed not long ago. A hot shower is sorely needed.

"Do you have any spare clothes?" Mr Price asks the second I step into the light.

I shake my head and keep my eyes averted from his. "Crystal is late. She was supposed to be back at eleven thirty so I'd have time to go home and get changed before meeting you."

He doesn't seem interested in my explanations, only my health and wellbeing. How typical of a teacher. "How do you feel now?"

I finally look up and watch as he leans against the wall, his body casual and relaxed. He's the total opposite of how I feel inside. "I'm not sure."

"Numb?"

I nod and he frowns in response.

"Come on." He holds out his arm and motions for me to come closer. Feeling like a frightened little child, I do as I'm told and allow him to lead me from the room. "I'll take you home."

"But Crystal..."

"I'm taking you home. Crystal will understand."

I shake my head and chew on my lip. My heart still hasn't settled and I know I probably should go home, but I can't leave the girls high and dry like that. "This is my job. The girls can't cope on their own."

He sighs, but doesn't say anything else. I let him guide me into the front where the same faces from before, now seated, all look my way.

If I didn't want to die before, I definitely do now.

Most of them smile, but some quickly turn back to their drinks. n.o.body says anything and I'm glad of that. The last thing I need is reminding.

Hollie beckons me over to the till, where she has only one customer waiting. "You okay?"

I nod and turn back to Mr Price. "Thank you for... that back there."

He smiles politely. "I feel bad leaving you, but I have to get back to work."

"Of course." Now I feel even worse. "Can I get you something before you go?"

He checks the clock on the wall and shakes his head. "No thank you. I'm good. I'll see you on Monday."

"Right." I follow him to the door and hold it open as he walks to his car. "Thanks again, Mr Price. I owe you one."

"You owe me three," he jokes, his smile charming and alluring. "Take care, Miss Blackburn."

I don't watch him drive away. I need to get back to work. Hopefully it'll take my mind off it all.

It's not until I'm behind the counter that Hollie asks, whilst fanning her face dramatically with her hand, "And who on earth was that fine piece of man meat?"

I roll my eyes and quickly swap my ap.r.o.n. "That was my teacher."

Isaac "He threw a hot coffee in her d.a.m.n face!" I exclaim angrily and run my fingers through my hair. "If it had been any hotter..."

"But it wasn't and she's okay," my dad responds and slides a tumbler of dark liquid towards me. "Did anybody report it?"

"I'm unsure." I know I didn't report it, but maybe that other guy did. "It's just ridiculous. What kind of a person does that to somebody? Let alone a young woman."

"A sick one."

"Amen to that." I sip the strong fluid and choke a little as it burns its way down my throat. "Holy c.r.a.p, Dad. What the h.e.l.l is this?"

He only taps his nose and winks, his way of saying 'mind your own.' I roll my eyes and feel my mood elevate slightly. "She'll be okay, Son. Do you want me to call her parents later?"

Should he? Should I? "No. No use in worrying them. Besides, we don't know what her relationship is like with her parents. Best to leave that one alone. She'll tell them herself if she wants to."

My dad nods and drains the contents of his gla.s.s in one go. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.

"What are you two talking about?" My mum asks as she enters the room. I immediately notice the odd slippers on her feet. One is a Christmas slipper with a snowman image on the front and the other is her white, every day slipper. My dad notices too and his eyes sadden slightly. He doesn't let her see it though, quickly putting on a smile and pulling her into his arms. "Are you hungry, my loves?"

We only finished eating the dinner she made for us thirty minutes ago. My dad holds her tighter and lets out a breath.

"I'll make tea," I say quietly, sliding my drink towards my dad. "Why don't you and mum go and rest? I'll bring it through."

Chapter Nine.

Eloise Monday morning comes without warning and I can't begin to describe how exhausted I feel after a long weekend of working.

Crystal did return on Friday, but not until five that evening. She's not doing too well; her legs are swollen and working in the cafe as much as she does just isn't an option anymore.

I worked all weekend, filling in her hours as best as I could, but we need more staff. I'm good at my job but I'm not Crystal and I have college, so I don't know what she's going to do during the day.

History is my first lesson and even though part of me is happy to see Mr Price and my friends again, an even bigger part of me is still humiliated over what happened on Friday. I wonder how I'll ever look my teacher in the eyes again.

All I can think about is the way he looked at me, the gentleness with which he touched my face and held me in his arms. It's plagued my mind so much I've even dreamt about it, but my dreams haven't been as platonic as our exchange in the lavatory was.

Stupid hormones.

The second I step onto the pavement that leads to the main building of the school, Hayley flanks my left side and an arm comes over my shoulder from the right. I smile at both she and Garrett, sinking into his side slightly so as to accept his warmth, which is doing a brilliant job of protecting me from the chill in the air.

His arm feels nothing like Mr Price's did though and I hate myself for comparing them. One is a man with no interest in a school girl and the other is a friend with definite interest. Neither of them should ever be compared, because they both look at me in completely different ways.

"My mum saw your Dad in that bar on Lumley Avenue," Hayley tells me as we push through the crowd of students hovering around the entrance doors. "She said he was with your uncle and they were both off their heads on whiskey."

"Yeah, he crawled home on Sat.u.r.day night... literally crawled." I giggle at the memory of my dad falling through the door laughing his a.r.s.e off. Mum only rolled her eyes and helped him up to bed. I was completely invisible to the both of them, but I don't mind. That's the happiest I've seen them in a while.

"Your dad is funny when he's drunk. Do you remember that time he attacked us with that bottle of foam soap?" Hayley elbows me in the ribs as more laughter bubbles up my throat.

"Your dad sounds cool." Garrett comments and leans forward to bite my cheek. I push him away playfully and check my phone for the time. He sees my panic and picks up speed, only to finally drop me off outside of my cla.s.sroom.

I'm shocked when I feel his soft, warm and strangely smooth lips press against mine. It's a brief kiss, but a strong one. His tongue teases my lips ever so slightly before he releases me, leaving me breathless and swooning.

I sway on the spot for a moment as his hand comes up to my cheek and his fingers gently tuck my long, red hair behind my ear. "See you later," he breathes through his charming and boyish smile.

I nod, ignoring the cat calls and wolf whistles as I enter my cla.s.sroom, still dazed and swooning.

"You are so lucky," Hayley whispers when I take my seat beside her. "He's so b.l.o.o.d.y hot and so nice."

"Settle down," Mr Price calls. Apparently my public display of affection got everyone a little bit excited. A few girls in cla.s.s stare daggers at me, but I ignore them and continue floating on my fluffy white cloud. "ENOUGH!"

The cla.s.s stills and everybody quickly makes it to their seats. I notice the dark rings under Mr Price's eyes. He's tired; that much is clear. I hope he's okay.

I try to make eye contact with him before he writes a t.i.tle on the board for us to copy. Unfortunately, when he looks around the cla.s.s to check we're all doing as we're told, he completely misses me and doesn't bother looking at me at all. Not that he should. I just hoped he might.

When I finally accept defeat, I quickly copy down the notes and listen to him tell us stories of Churchill.

My eyes remain on my work and I make sure to actually do it this lesson, though I'm not sure if any of it is right.

Hayley chews on the end of her pen lid as her pen moves across the paper. "Josie and the others are annoyed that you get private time with Price."

I shrug. I don't really care. "They'll get over it."

"I heard little Miss Prissy Pants at the front has asked him for her own private lessons."

I stare at Shannon's braid, feeling a certain anger bubbling low in my chest towards her. I shake it off and turn back to my friend. "I thought you liked Shannon? Now suddenly she's Miss Prissy Pants?"

"I tolerate her."

Rolling my eyes back to my work, I continue writing as I'm supposed to do. "She's not that bad."

"Maybe not, but..."

"Girls!" Mr Price warns and Hayley quickly begins scribbling in her own book.

I don't lift my head, which seems silly as I've been trying to connect with his eyes all lesson. For some reason I can feel his eyes burning into me and it's knocked my guards a little, causing my cheeks to heat.

I can't help but glance at him. It's an automatic response when you know somebody is staring at you. Sure enough my eyes meet his, but I quickly flick them back to my paper. The strange intensity and curiosity in them makes bubbles pop in my stomach and b.u.t.terflies flap around beneath the surface of every inch of my skin.

I look again, still feeling the heat of his gaze on the side of my face.

This time my eyes latch onto his and my mouth goes dry.

I've never lost myself in somebody's eyes before. I've read about it and I've seen it on TV, but I always thought it was stupid and impossible. How does one lose themselves in a pair of eyes?

Now I know how. I can't look away. I can't think of anything but his breath against my lips seconds before he kisses me and his strong hands smoothing down my sides, appreciating every inch of my skin before cupping my a.r.s.e and pulling me to him. My dry mouth begins to water and my tongue quickly wets my lips as I imagine the taste of him lingering there, maybe the bitter bite of his smoky scented aftershave.

I didn't realise I'd taken a note of his aftershave. I must have done at some point, for I can suddenly smell the memory as if it were a fresh scent.

We both pull away at the same time, the connection broken, and how badly I wish I knew what he was thinking at that moment. I feel even more humiliated than I did before, but a large part of me doesn't care. I just want that feeling back. I want to lose myself in his eyes once more and feel the heat course through my body again. Like a drug addiction, I need it now.

What if I never feel that way again?

s.h.i.t, I haven't done the work!

I am so bad at this... I need brain camp.