Chapter 2

The day after he took it too far, even for his standards. He planned to get a detention, or some sort of after school revision, so he could see extra of her. He felt helpless, stupidly pathetic. He was a 20 year old man for gods sake, she was probably way older than him, although definitely not by much, she couldn't be older than thirty. He couldn't tell anyone this, not his friends, not anyone. And he knew he had to eventually get over it, because it was very inappropriate. But for now, he let him indulge himself in her charm. Every day he'd try get the best seat at the front, so he could see her clearer, although he knew not to call her over for help, as it would only result in another embarrassing situation where he would have to cross his legs for an hour. Plus, it wasn't even the end of the day yet, so it would be hard to conceal if he was to go round uni with it. She shuffled past his row, his breath drawing in sharply. Twelve leaned round behind him, tapping his shoulder.

'You alright, mate?'

'Fine.'

He carried on with his writing, wholly concentrating until she swept past him again. He looked momentarily up at her, as she turned toward her desk. She caught his eye, and they stared at each other. There was a force between them, he could feel it. An orbital chemistry like magnets, opposites attracting. It was unnatural to hold her gaze for that long, especially as a teacher, but no one else noticed. She didn't look away, and his heart thumped a little louder inside his chest. Finally, it was actually the bell that interrupted them, of all things. As soon as it rang, her head turned sharply, pretending nothing had happened, to scan the rest with her soft, brown eyes. Blinking her long eyelashes he saw the light reflect inside her pupils, and he swore he never saw anything as divine as her. Grabbing his bag absent-mindedly, he realised most of the class were already in the corridors. He made his way up to her, realising just then how small she was and how he seemed to tower over her.

'I have a detention here, I think, after hours, for being late to first lesson. Teacher said to take it here, if that's okay.' He said, softly.

She bent over her desk to grab her papers and he swallowed, ominously diverting her eyes.

'Uh, I won't be in here for long, but that should be fine.' She seemed to watch his hair drape low into the frame of his face, and he adjusted the strap on his bag.

'Thanks.'

Turning his back and out of the room, he couldn't hide a smile. He was such a young, childish, idiot. He caught up with Nine, Ten and Twelve with a jubilance in his face and a sparkle in his eyes.

••••

'Thanks.' She said, receiving the cup of well needed tea from the teacher. Sipping it gently, her eyes slipped to him, sitting right in front of her. His posture relaxed, an arm resting loosely behind his chair and his legs spread out in front of him, he was staring out the window thoughtfully.

'Do you like English, Eleven?' She asked, breaking the silence. Green eyes turning to her, he looked at her as if he thought it a miracle she could speak.

'Yeah, it's good. Certainly better than other subjects. Not as brilliant at it than I would like to be, though.'

She took a sip from her tea again, analysing his tone of voice, how it was so very calm and collected. He spoke wonderfully, far better speech than some other people. Even the teachers.

'Well, if there's something I can do to help you get better at it, just let me know. But I have been very satisfied with you're work so far. You have a very creative mind.'

His hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically against the table, and he smiled at her.

'I will do. But, uhm, if it's okay, could you just check this for me?' He stumbled out of his chair and over to her desk cautiously.

'It's the homework. I didn't really understand part b of question four.'

Skimming her eyes over it, she marked it for him.

'It's basically saying, how did the author embed themes of power and how did this relate to his poem about love. You should just write a comparison.'

He nodded, his hand reaching out toward the paper, and brushing hers simultaneously. They exchanged a glance at the contact, and then he continued.

'But how did power come into play with it?' He coughed.

She smiled. 'Come here.' Beckoning him, he advanced to the inside of her desk, positioning himself right behind her chair. She was conscious of that fact, that he was standing just an inch from her. She turned to him, explaining the basis of his question, trying to keep her breathing to a normal pace. Every time she looked up at him it caused a jolt down her spine, and she pointed to a scrawled word on his work. Leaning over to see it clearer, she could feel his breath against her neck, his body less than a centimetre from hers. This was too close. If a teacher happened to walk in...

Sliding forward in her chair before the situation escalated, she hurriedly explained the rest and told him to sit back down. From then, she corrected essays and went on her computer, if only a distraction from his expectant face looking up at her. But it conclusively became too much for her, and she turned back round to him. He was reading the red ink she had left on his paper, and noticed it was drawing to dark outside. She knew his time was up, but selfishly didn't tell him this.

'Would you like help on that?' She asked. It was true, some students in the class needed much more tuition than he did, and as a teacher, she was committed and required to helping everyone out. But it couldn't have just been her foolish wishful thinking, in that he must have felt the same thing too? Because she felt like it was a good excuse to see more of him, whilst also boosting up his grade. She waited for his answer with anticipated anxiety, and turned her eyes to her computer.

'Sure, I'd appreciate that. I think I could use the help. I don't do well in tests.'

'Okay then, uhmm, what about same time every week? I have to fit in other things you see, schedule is always busy-'

'No, no that's fine.'

She nodded affirmative, then mimed checking her watch.

'You can go now. I'll see you in class tomorrow, Eleven.'

As he strode away, she thought she heard something of a 'hopefully' in response and her heart fluttered. Maybe it was just the feeling of finding someone new to think about, and not just the stresses of home and work. And, if it was possible, she was sure that from the few weeks she had been teaching him, her life had brightened up a bit more.

••••

Eleven shuffled up the stairs to his room, where Nine and Ten were already there, discussing something whilst playing with a pack of cards. He dumped his bag beside it and sprawled onto his own bed, watching them.

'Where were you?' Ten asked.

'Detention.'

'With who?'

It took him a while to form a coherent answer.

'Miss Oswald.'

Nine raised his eyebrows but said nothing in comment. He reckoned he was only just a slightly bit jealous.

'Where's Twelve?'

'I don't know, took his guitar with him so probably serenading some girl.'

At that point he burst in, arms akimbo and his guitar strung round him.

'Look who's fucking here!' He exclaimed.

'You are.' Ten replied dryly.

'No,' he boomed in his thick Scot accent, 'you.' He pointed to Eleven, who smiled at his expression. Twelve could be very cynically funny sometimes, if a little theatrical.

'Yes, me,' he replied, as Twelve jumped into his bed, 'detention with Miss Oswald.'

'Ooh, get on the wrong side of her?' He asked.

'No, just had it held in her room?'

'Didja fuck her?'

'Uhh, let me think...no.'

He chuckled, leaned back on his bed and started to strum a few chords, filling up the silence. Ten and Nine had just finished their card game. Ten kicked off his sand shoes and crossed his legs, his arms behind his head. He was beginning to faintly grow stubble again.

'Do you think I should take Rose to the dance thing?'

'Yeah, yeah you should. To be honest, she's probably waiting for you to ask her.'

'Shit, I only just realised we had that dance. When is it again?' Nine asked.

'December...12th?'

'I thought it was the 11th.'

'Well you would say that, you're name is eleven.'

He laughed, and the conversation quickly turned from dances to football to music pretty soon.

'Who do you think I should take?' He said out of the blue.

'As a friend, obviously.' He added, knowing he'd never get anyone serious enough to go with him.

'I don't know. I could ask Martha or a Donna...' Ten suggested.

'Or Jack.' Nine sniggered.

'Oh yeah, Harkness would go with you. He doesn't mind whether you're girl or boy, all the same to him.' Twelve said, 'I do like Jack though. Everyone does.'

'Yeah. Actually, he kissed me once.' Nine agreed.

'Wow, okay.'

'Yeah. Not that bad if I say so myself.'

They all laughed, and Eleven's eyes grew droopy like his hair. He undone the buttons on his shirt, changing into his trackies and plain t shirts he wore as substitute for pyjamas.

'I was thinking maybe Amy. Just as a friend, of course. She might say yes.'

'She's just gotten with Rory, mate.' Twelve informed him regretfully.

'Oh. I dunno then.'

'Why don't you take Miss Oswald?' Nine sniggered. Eleven smiled to himself, thinking about how much he would want to.

'Yeah, maybe I should.' He answered jokingly, and he slid into bed.