Lorraine's POV

I roll over onto my back and stare at the white ceiling, pulling the suffocating sheet away from my chest so I can breathe. I run my hands roughly through my blonde hair, fingers teasing through knots created as I tossed and turned all night. Because I couldn't sleep. I was running over a thousand tiny situations in my head. Each more unlikely and implausible than the next. I close my eyes and sigh, and reach blindly for my phone, my fingernails scrabbling for a moment on the cold glass of my bedside table before my palm finally met the cool metal case of my phone. I fumble as I unlock it and hold it too close to my eyes, so that it takes an instant for my sleep-blurred vision to focus properly on the screen. The time reads 7:09. I blink. My stomach twists itself into tight knots.

"Shit" I hiss, my breath rushing through my teeth. And I pull the sheets away from my body, scrambling to sit up in bed.

It's the first day back at school after the Easter break. The schoolyard bathed in watery sunlight, but all the heat of the spring day has been filtered away by the low-hanging clouds. And I'm leaning against the ruby red bonnet of my car, answering a call from my PA when I see her. Pulling through the school gates in her dusty little car, and I watch as she glances around the car park. And I watch as she realises that there are no other spaces, save the one squashed beside my red Ferrari. Typical. I sigh, and try not to watch her as she pulls into the space right next to me. I try to concentrate on the buzzing voice of my PA, and not on the scary, swooping feeling inside my chest. And I try to ignore my suddenly hammering heartbeat too. And I flick my hair out of my face as I talk, looking anywhere but at her as she pulls open her car door.

"Can't you rearrange that meeting for Wednesday, it's the start of term and I really can't be going straight down to London-" I say abruptly, and the voice of my PA at the end of the phone burbles something I can barely hear. Because suddenly, all the air seems to have been stolen. Replaced by thick cotton wool. Making it impossible for me to breathe.

Because she's smiling carelessly at me, nodding her head slightly. So I smile back. But I don't think she's noticed, because she's already turning away from me, grabbing her bag from the front seat of her car, and slamming the door.

"Okay...I'll try to rearrange that for next Tuesday then, but you really do need to make sure you look over those reports before, and we need to talk about-" The voice at the end of the phone still buzzes annoyingly around my head. But I'm not listening to her. I'm listening to Nikki's footsteps as she walks away. I watch her too, the way she walks, the way she checks the time on her phone, and then shouts something barely audible towards two boys playing football dangerously close to the glass doors. And she doesn't glance back at me as she hurries towards the few steps leading to the huge double doors into the school. I feel as though something inside me has been thrown away. I gulp. My throat is too dry. I can't breathe, I can't speak. But somehow, I'm still speaking to my PA.

"C-can I call you back?" I cough. The words seem oddly forced, as though I'm having to wrench them from the back of my dry throat. But I'm still attempting to sound brisk, businesslike. I don't listen to my PA's reply before I hang up. And I don't even put my phone back in my pocket, I keep it clutched in my increasingly hot palm.

And suddenly my heels are clicking on the wet tarmac as I follow her. Hurried, trying in vain to catch up with her. And I watch as she slows her pace. "Nikki-?"

She turns to look at me, and I smile. Watching her as she balances her bag on her arm and stuffs her hands into her pockets. And I'm trying my hardest to act natural.

"Hey Lorraine, good holiday?" she asks me, her voice light. Impossibly cool. As though she don't care what my reply might be. As though it doesn't matter that I spend half of last night running over all the things I could say to her in my head, and the other half imagining countless impossible situations.

"Yeah, it was alright, pretty busy. You?" I reply, carefully keeping my tone light, careless. Friendly, and nothing more. Just like her. But she doesn't quite meet my gaze, her eyes flickering from my face, then to the ground, and then up to my face again.

"Umm, yeah, I had a lot of marking and, you know, boring stuff..." Her voice trails away, and her eyes fly back over my face too. Really quickly. Watching me as I bite my bottom lip hard, her eyes fixed on my lips. The silence between us is heavy, laden down with all the things neither of us are saying. I try my hardest to break it. And fix my eyes anywhere but her lips.

"I...I..." I whisper. Blinking quickly. Because somehow I find it hard to focus on her face.

"Look, I better get in school, the kids are always a bit of a handful on the first day of term and I need to...to..." her voice trails away into oblivion. She touches her tongue to her lips, and I unconsciously mimic her. I wonder if she's imagining the way my lips would feel against hers. Because I am.

"Oh, yeah...o-okay..." I murmur. Looking away from her. And she very almost smiles.

"I'll see you later" How does she sound so cool, so chillingly confident? And she turns away from me, pulling her bag higher over her shoulder.

"Yeah, I-I-" I watch her leave, and I'm still stammering as she walks away. But she doesn't look back at me. And I'm glad, because I'm a mess. Everything inside me feels as though it's been carelessly screwed up, thrown away. And I can't even begin to untangle it.

"Lorraine-" At the sound of his voice I visibly jump, Michael's hand on the small of my back. I wonder if he notices. And I pray to god that he doesn't.

"Morning Michael-" I smile at him, running a hand self-consciously through my hair. But my voice sounds quick, businesslike. And now stepping half an inch away from him, until I can no longer feel his gentle touch on my jacket.

"Are you okay, had a good holiday?" He smiles at me, his hand falling back down to his side. His eyes doing that unnerving, flickering thing that they always did. As though they could read every thought in my mind by just half an inch of my face.

"Yeah" I make an effort to smile right back at him, ignoring the bubbling pressure in the pit of my stomach. And together we walk up the sloping tarmac, towards the wide double doors.

Coffee. Strong, black coffee. "Just how I like my men" I would sometimes joke, smiling. Dying inside.

I sit at a deserted desk in the half-empty staffroom, pouring over the reports that the office had emailed that morning. They showed that the school was successful. Not the best, but grades were steadily improving. They should have made me cheerful, proud. But they don't. I can barely even concentrate on them. I drink more coffee, steadily convincing myself that I can't focus because I'm tired.

And the door bangs open. Nikki, of course it's Nikki. Who else? She's carrying a pile of books under one arm, a cup of tea in the other. And suddenly, I'm gathering up my papers, draining the last dregs of my coffee, ready to leave. Because I've rehearsed a hundred thousand possible situations over and over in my mind, but none of them are perfect. And they all scare me stupid. Tying my tongue in knots until I can barely shape an audible sentence.

And I realise that it's probably my turn to be brave, I know that I should be. But I know that I won't be. Not brave enough anyway. I've never been quite brave enough. I keep my eyes fixed down, as I stride for the door. Quickly, but not quick enough-

"Hold on Lorraine, can we talk?" She reaches out towards me as I attempt to brush past her on the way out of the staffroom. Her hand just hovering above the sleeve of my jacket. My heart jumps a full semi-circle. And she didn't even touch me.

"Yeah, hold on." I step closer to her, and flick aimlessly at my phone, pretending to read an urgent message. There is no message, of course. I'm just not entirely sure if I can look straight into her eyes. But I have to slip my phone back into my pocket. And look quickly around the staffroom. Only one other teacher, sitting alone in the far corner, steadily dozing over a thick pile of marking. No-one can hear us. No-one cares. So then I look up at her. "Yeah?"

"I just wondered if..."

She starts to speak, but I cut her off quickly. Before she can even start to talk properly, and she looks impossibly relieved, her shoulders falling a fraction as she sighs. Because suddenly, inexplicably, I want to be in control.

"Nikki, you know...you know you were saying about a drink, the other day...well, not the other day, but before the holidays, you know?" I take a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. Oh god, what am I even doing? What am I saying? God. There's no way she'll want to go for a drink with me...

She doesn't even look at me, her eyes sweep the staffroom hurriedly, before resting on my face. She nods a fraction, almost smiling again. Surely she's encouraging me to continue stumbling blindly towards asking her out. Just for drinks. Not a date. Don't make it sound like a date. Please, god, Lorraine, don't make it sound like a date.

"Yeah, I know?" She says it as though it's a question, an upwards lilt twisting around her tongue. And maybe it is a question. I don't know.

"We should go for that drink, tonight." I nod, as though I'm sure of knowing what I'm saying. I try to make it sound as though I do.

"Should we?" She seems taken-aback, her eyebrows raising in surprise. Or maybe dismay. My heart hammers double, triple time. I feel as though it has expanded, hopelessly blocking my airway.

"Yeah." I nod again. I wonder if I'm blushing. I feel as though I probably am, blood rushing to my head, making it impossible for me to think clearly.

"I...I...yeah, that'd be great. Here-" she's leaning on the wall, scrawling her number on a scrap of paper. "Call me later?" She's smiling properly now. So I grin back, taking the piece of paper, folding it in half with impossible care. Slipping it into my pocket.

"Yeah, yeah I will. Cheers." My chest feels impossibly light, as though someone has filled my lungs with helium, making me feel lightheaded and dizzy. So relieved, so happy I feel sick.

"See you later then." She's still smiling.

And then she's gone.

And I leave too, waiting until the staffroom door has banged closed again before I pause, my hand hovering over the pocket that holds her number. I feel as though that tiny scrap of paper glows red-hot, burning through my jacket until I'm impossibly aware of its presence, and what it means. Because it means that I am brave. And because it means that she likes me.

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