Chapter 10
Dearest Cole,
The purpose of my writing this letter is to allow you to know first the response to Mr. Phillips' request. Your letter to me had three minor spelling mistakes, as well as one grammatical error. Other than that, it was exemplary. I am sure Mr. Phillips will give you a favorable score. I have sent his letter the same time as yours, so he should have it by the time you receive this one. Expect a response from him soon.
I hope you are doing well. I have not heard from you since your last long letter, so please, please write soon. I would like to know how well you are getting along with Mr. Phillips, and how you are doing with your tutoring. Could you send me a painting so I can see your unmistakable talent? I promise I will put it in a place where it will always be seen and admired. It will remind me of you and how much happier you are.
Please write again. Diana and I, as well as Gilbert and the girls at school, miss you. Maybe send each of us a painting. That would be absolutely wonderful.
All my love,
Anne
Cole smiled after he read Anne's letter. He really does miss her, and the friends that he has back in Avonlea. Maybe when he writes her back, he will request that they all come and they can have a wonderful afternoon together, catching up. He could play host at the mansion.
But Cole will have to be careful if he doesn't want the rest of his friends to know his orientation. Only Anne knows, and she may know about his feelings for Mr. Phillips... who is going to arrive very soon for tutoring.
Cole put the letter back in the envelope and set it on his night stand. He looked around at his paintings, sculptures and drawings that he has started now that his wrist is feeling a lot better. His bedroom resembled Mr. Phillips' apartment a bit, only with less pieces of art. Maybe one of these days Cole could let Mr. Phillips see his art. But in his room? No, he will have to move everything downstairs. Having Mr. Phillips in his room... after what happened between them... he's not sure how he would react to that.
Cole jumped when someone knocked on his door. "Cole, Mr. Phillips is here a little early," came Aunt Josephine's voice. Cole's heart started racing and he took a deep breath of courage. He hasn't seen Mr. Phillips for three days due to him needing to go out of town—three days since their "moment."
"I'm coming, thank you!" Cole called, and he heard footsteps. "Alright, you can do this, Cole. Just face the man like nothing has happened."
Cole went on downstairs, but stopped when he saw Mr. Phillips standing next to the tutor table by the window. Cole stared at him for a moment. How was it that he hated this man before for the way he treated him and his friends, and now... he is in love with him?
Mr. Phillips turned his head and saw Cole standing there. He smirked. "Am I really that handsome?"
Heat rushed to his cheeks, not expecting that question at all. "W-what?"
"I joke, Cole. Come sit down. I want to discuss your faux essay with you."
Cole came up and sat down, as did Mr. Phillips. He pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I received a letter from Anne. She looked over your letter and gave me a summation of what needs improvement, and what you did well."
Cole already knew the verdict, but nonetheless... "Alright. What did she say?"
"She first said that she took this assignment to grade your letter seriously and graded as if you were one of her future students." He snickered. "I can see Anne becoming a teacher."
"I can as well. It's what she wants to be."
"Is that so? Well, I encourage her to pursue that. Anyway, she said that you had exactly three spelling mistakes, and exactly one grammatical error. She gave me example sentences, but did not use the exact words of your letter. She was very strict about that."
Cole nodded, happy about that. But Mr. Phillips wouldn't be surprised anyway, reading about Cole's feelings for him. "So... I got a decent grade, then?"
"Yes, you did, if she was perfectly honest. And I trust her judgement. So, you receive 18 out of 20 points on the essay."
Cole smiled. "Thank you."
He put the letter away, and Cole watched his hands as he slid the envelope in a random place in one of the books on the table. The man has attractive hands... all of him is attractive, and not just his outer appearance. Cole has found that Mr. Phillips is a good and honest man. "Um, Mr. Phillips?"
"Yes?"
"I was wondering... would you like to see everything that I have done so far? Like artwork? I've finished a lot of drawings, since my wrist is feeling better."
Mr. Phillips nodded. "I see." He checked his pocket watch in the front pocket of his suit jacket. "I can take a look after our meeting here today."
Cole gulped. He didn't expect Mr. Phillips to say yes because he normally leaves promptly after their meeting. "Alright, thank you."
"Let's get to the lesson."
Cole nodded since his tongue wasn't cooperating. Mr. Phillips is going to be in his room... He has to prepare himself emotionally for that.
The lesson went on with Mr. Phillips teaching Cole about abstract art. He took a look at the painting in the book, one showing blocks of blue, pink, red and yellow colors. "I made something like this," Cole commented.
"Really?"
"Yes. And I've never read this book before."
"I look forward to seeing it. You are indeed my prodigy."
"Prodigy?"
"Yes. I have been teaching you everything you know about art, and you have learned and performed well. Quite exemplarily, actually. But that is because you already have that hidden talent."
Cole beamed at that, loving that Mr. Phillips has a high opinion of him. "Thank you. And I'm honored to follow after you since you are extremely talented as well."
Mr. Phillips smirked. "I suppose we shouldn't let both of our heads get too big."
Cole laughed, as did Mr. Phillips. They got back to the lesson and soon, the end of the lesson came. Cole stacked Mr. Phillips' books in a pile on the table. "Well," said Mr. Phillips, "shall we see your art collection?"
Cole's heart jumped. "Yes, we shall."
"Where is it located?"
"In... my bedroom."
It could have been Cole's imagination, but he swore he saw his tutor's cheeks pinken a bit. "Very well. On we go."
Cole went on up to his room, Mr. Phillips tailing him. He approached the door and stopped, heat rising on his neck. "Are you going to go in?" Mr. Phillips asked behind him.
"Yes."
He opened the door and went in, and Mr. Phillips followed. The man stopped and looked around, his eyes on the pieces of artwork around the room. His mouth opened slightly. "My... now I know how you felt when you entered my apartment. You did all of these within the space of six weeks?"
"Yes, I did. But all the drawings I did in the past week."
Mr. Phillips looked genuinely impressed. He gazed upon Cole's drawings of men, women, children, landscapes, plants, the very house that they were standing in... He let out a breath. "You indeed have a genius for art. You are extraordinary, Cole."
Cole's chest tightened, and his voice cracked when he said, "Thank you, Mr. Phillips."
The man turned to Cole, his gaze soft, yet serious. "You could sell these for a decent amount of money. You could make a career out of what you're doing here, whipping out art like you're flipping through a book."
"Do you think so?"
"I do. And... I cannot say it enough—you are extremely talented. I wish I had addressed it when you were still in my class." He paused and his his features and eyes saddened. "I am appalled at myself for the way I treated you."
Cole took a step to him in desperation for him not to be hurt. "Mr. Phillips, that's all in the past. We have gotten passed that."
"But it's still there."
Mr. Phillips eyes started to turn red, and moisture started appearing in them. Cole's heart sunk to his belly. "Mr. Phillips, really... I've forgotten all of that. I'm just glad that we get along now."
"I think we more than just 'get along', Cole."
Cole stared at him after that comment, not knowing what to say to that, and his heart about beat out of him. He looked away awkwardly at a pencil drawing of a rose bush in the back garden, one that he and Mr. Phillips were near while creating angry art.
"I apologize," Mr. Phillips said. "I shouldn't have said that."
Cole met his gaze again. His hands tingled as he said boldly, "I agree. I mean I agree that there's something else there."
It was Mr. Phillips' turn to stare at him, and Cole took in his brown eyes and handsome face. He couldn't take it anymore. It was as if every emotion in him came to the surface, and he took the back of Mr. Phillip's head and slammed his mouth on his, something he only dreamed of doing, but never thought he actually would. Mr. Phillips staggered back a bit, stiff.
Cole's heart banged at his ribs as he kept his face to Mr. Phillips', loving the feeling of his soft lips. An alarm set off in him. He shouldn't be doing this! What is he thinking?! He about let go, but shock filled his system when Mr. Phillips took his shoulder, and his mouth moved on his once.
About ready to collapse since his legs felt like pudding, Cole felt his mouth disconnect from his tutor's. He stared wide-eyed at him for a moment, and turned completely around. "I'm sorry," Cole said, his whole face heated so much, he thought it would catch fire. Mr. Phillips sighed, the type of sigh people make when they are unhappy that something happened.
"I suppose that is what I meant. I will forget about it if you agree to as well."
Cole took shaky breaths through his nose as his chest tightened and his eyes began to burn. He said with difficulty, and hotly, "You can't ask me to forget something like that. Especially since you responded to it."
There was silence for a moment, then, "I think I should get going."
Cole heard footsteps walk away from him. He whirled around. "You know how I feel, and how I am! Did you..." He took a breath, trying to steady his voice. "Did you do it to take advantage of the that?" Mr. Phillips stopped. "Or... did you really mean it?"
Mr. Phillips half-turned to him, a very serious and stern expression on his face. "Let's not speak of this again, understood?"
The man left, leaving Cole standing there among his artwork. His breathing became heavier, and his strength vanished. He sunk to the floor, his knees hitting the wood, shooting pain through his legs. He doesn't know whether to be exuberantly happy or disheartened at what just happened between him and his tutor.