3. Sky
He wants to shout it from the rooftops, scream it so that everyone can hear him.
I love Francesca Montoya. I love Francesca Montoya. I love Francesca Montoya.
He hadn't even realised what was happening to him until it was too late. Every glance he'd given her, every shiver that had careened down his spine when their hands had accidently touched…he hadn't known that they'd come to mean anything.
He hadn't expected to fall for her.
But he has. Oh, how he has.
At first he'd thought that it was just a silly teenage crush. It wasn't uncommon for a pupil to fancy their teacher, and Miss Montoya certainly was a beautiful woman.
No…not Miss Montoya. Francesca. Cesca.
At first he'd lie awake in bed at night, unable to sleep because thoughts of her invaded his mind. Thoughts of running his fingers through her thick black hair, thoughts of pressing his mouth over every soft contour of her face, thoughts of unwrapping her body like some precious, religious object…
His own teacher. Miss Montoya. Cesca.
He feels feverish in his desire for her. If the other lads even knew they'd simply dismiss it as a simple case of lust. They'd tell him that he needed to get laid, that the problem would soon pass.
Jonah knows that it won't. Because, despite everything, he's in love. With his teacher. Miss Montoya. Cesca.
He wishes that he could shout his feelings to the sky, let the universe in on his happiness. It doesn't matter that they're not together yet, because he knows that they will be. He can tell from her expression – dark, needy – that she wants him, too. It makes his heart tighten within the confines of his chest, because he knows that eventually things will play out the way that they're intended to. He just has to be patient. He is naïve and arrogant enough to think that things will turn out exactly how he sees them.
He will get Cesca. He will be able to kiss her breathless, to hold her in his arms, to press every inch of his body against hers. He will be able to declare his love for her to the skies, to the world, make everyone listen to him.
But for now, he has to content himself with burying his face into his pillow and whispering those treacherous words – I love you, Cesca – into the darkness of his room.
A/N: A fairly short one this time, but hopefully it works like that. :)
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