Chapter 3

Weeks passed into another month, and he felt the days slipping by way too fast. Every week he made it gladly to Miss Oswald's classroom, and their one hour tuition classes had started to develop with something much less awkward. When their hands touched it still beheld the sensational sparks flying between them, but he had finally learned to keep the nerve within. She had helped him most beneficially, and not only was he comfortable, he was also confident in his work. As he stared up at the ceiling of his maths class, absently counting the tiles, he thought about how much help she had given him, and how her skirts were short enough to let him admire her flawlessly perfect legs. He was no longer consciously ashamed of himself for liking her; he had found, what he thought, could most definitely be a soulmate. Not a fling, not a one night stand, but a person he could actually see carrying over the threshold of a new built house. Steadying himself at the thought which was now exploding inside his brain, he mentally took note not to think of this again, as he was kidding himself into thinking something was there. Of course there wasn't, it would always be valued as a mutual student/teacher relationship, nothing more. He was getting too carried away. He hadn't even asked her out for a drink. And even if he did, why would she even consider it? Yet his thoughts weren't as easy to disclose; the thinking of a 20 year old in uni, at night, was hardly going to let him face the harsh reality with understanding. He even admitted to himself; Miss Oswald and her perfect body would exist with him only in his dreams. As he mercilessly day dreamed about Miss Oswald kissing a trail down his torso, he was shaken back into the real world by Nine, who gestured to his bald, expectant maths teacher at the front of the class. Starting with a jolt he lowered his eyes. He hoped nothing had given anything away to suggest he was in the middle of a sexual fantasy.

'Are you paying attention, Smith?' He asked in clipped tones.

Eleven only nodded, trying not to blush.

'Then what is 156% of 1560?'

He swallowed, his words only forming in an audible sound that resembled static. He knew the answer, but it wouldn't come to him; not able to speak, he opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish. Ten nudged him, asking what was up. Of course, he couldn't reply in his state of shock.

'That's the third time I've caught you paying none attention. Detention for you, end of the day.'

'B-b-but,' he gasped, finally forming a coherent sentence, 'I have English tuition with Miss Oswald!'

'Then I will e-mail Miss Oswald and tell her you won't be able to attend tonight. Get on with you're work.' He nodded to his maths book.

Rubbing his head with his hand, he sighed aloud in exasperation. Stupid fucking maths teacher. He'd have to wait another whole week to see Miss Oswald again in private, and the thought of that made his insides burn.

'Are you sure you're okay?' Ten checked. He nodded, finally setting pencil to paper.

'Its okay mate, I'll share some of my cake with ya. It's bloody fantastic!' Nine whispered.

The rest of the hour seemed to drag especially slow, and Eleven was so behind on the questions he couldn't allow to think more of his favourite teacher. Karma's a bitch.

••••

Twelve told him that in fact, they actually had English that day. Eleven couldn't hide his smile, and Twelve especially composed a soppy riff just for him, that made their whole group laugh as they made their way over to the English corridor.

'Jane Austen!' Miss. Oswald announced, as they had all settled down in their seats. Looking up at her with dazed heart eyes, what came next both shocked and pleased him to no end.

'Amazing writer, brilliant comic observer, and strictly between ourselves, a phenomenal kisser.' Silence as she day dreamed with a small reminiscent smile on her face out of the window. She was only woken from her daze when Twelve tentatively said, 'uh, miss?'

Turning back round to them, Ten had to make sure he was hearing right, and downright challenged the argument that Jane Austen was indeed, dead.

'So is Agatha Christie, who I personally would like to have known. So how would you know Jane Austen?'

'Hm,' she smiled to Ten, observing his sticky up hair in amusement, 'maybe I just like to imagine. And as for Agatha Christie, I would definitely agree with you there,' she laughed, 'fantastic mystery writer.'

What had struck him this time was not the way she preceded to flip her hair back or saunter round to her desk, it was her comment on imagining kissing Jane Austen. For some reason, the thought of Miss Oswald being interested in and kissing women was strangely very hot. So now he knew, along with the rest of the class, that she was most likely bisexual. The notion brought about a huge urge to take her to bed himself, and he found her even sexier than he had ever seen her before, now that he knew her not-so-secret secret. With a satisfactory smile he added this new information to the hidden draw in his brain, to be used later when no one could burst in on him.

As she began to teach and continue to look gorgeous, he swore at one point she winked at him. He turned round, looking back at the number of students behind him. He wasn't even sure it was intended for him, or anyone, but it did set his heart thumping louder against his rib cage. He wished he could rewind a few seconds and relive the moment just to see who the wink was for and what the context of it was. Likelihood was, he was just thinking too much of it. His constant smile throughout class had unnerved some people, yet as the bell rung and everyone closed their notebooks he couldn't help but reflect on what such a great lesson it had been. Smile still on his face, it wasn't until he had stood up and bent down to get his bag that he realised he had a detention, so he couldn't stay an hour with Miss Oswald. In his sudden reminder, he banged his head against the inside of his desk. Straightening and rubbing his head, he scowled and cursed.

'Are you okay, Eleven?' Her voice rang out from the front, looking at him with concerning eyes. Looking flippantly at her he muttered a 'yeah' and climbed down the steps to the front.

'Miss?' He called, once he had made his way down. She turned back round to him, her eyes dilating even more.

'Yeah?'

'I'm sorry I couldn't make it tonight. I have a detention with my dickhead maths teacher.'

'Language,' she admonished, but she held a faint smile, 'it's okay, I'll see you next week. And in lessons too, of course. And,' she leaned in closer to him, whispering. Eleven's breathing became shallow as he noticed how her hair was just an inch apart from his own, 'between you and me, I don't think much of him either. Trust me when I say he is a dickhead, acts like a bloody idiot in the staff room.' She withdrew, and Eleven felt strangely cold without her radiant heat. She smiled at him, and he momentarily got pulled under the charm of her eyes, and he felt like he was falling, falling into a bottomless pit, never to land, never to reach the end. He smiled back at her, and the desire to hold her wrist gently and lean into her body was a fire in his belly he had to put out. A moment longer smiling at each other, and then he turned and walked out. Striding down the darkened corridor, he was reminded of the revelation of her swearing, how with her slight northern accent she said the word 'bloody', and the way it sounded so sexy coming from her. He was most certainly adding that to his dream draw. He imagined all too quickly the image of her swearing and shouting out his name as he thrust inside her, and he shook himself awake from yet another fantasy, and made it just in time to maths.

After a boringly slow thirty minutes of writing down equations, Eleven was positively reeling from hunger, and rushed to the canteen with the air of someone finding food after a month of starvation. Sitting down at the table, he chuckled to himself as he remembered the detention, and how he could hardly look at his teacher without the whispered words of Miss Oswald ringing in his mind.

'I love this spoon!' Twelve declared randomly, waving a huge dessert spoon in the air with natural yoghurt on it. Licking it appreciatively, he looked over to him. Eleven couldn't mistake the look of craziness on his face, and knew instantly what he had been getting up to prior dinner. In fact, Twelve looked beyond smashed. He looked high. Chuckling amusingly at himself, Ten's voice entertained a number of people around the table with his anecdote. As Eleven looked out beyond the dark window, he had never felt so at peace with the world, or with anyone, as he did in that moment.

His eyes quickly noticed Miss Oswald striding into the canteen and he watched her with nothing short of a hungry-eyed expression. As she walked past he smiled friendly at her, and she confidently smiled back at him. Her red lipstick and rosy cheeks made his pale face look like ice, and he grinned to himself as she made her exit. Dipping his spoon into his ice cream he stared further at the door she had just left moments ago.

Ten watched him, and tapped his shoulder.

'If I didn't know any better I'd have said you were in love.' He laughed, obviously referencing Miss Oswald. Nine agreed, adding that he thought he had never seen him look so much as interested in any other girl than he did their English teacher.

'If I didn't know any better, I would have guessed you wanted to fuck her!' Twelve piped up, his eyes still delirious and his lazy smile instantly making an impression on the girls at the next table. Eleven only laughed, never admitting that Twelve had been so accurate with his predicament.

'Twelve?' Nine prompted, turning head to look at his confused face.

'Why are you all so...English? What's wrong with you all?'

'C'mon,' Ten laughed again, helping him up by his arm as Nine did the same to his other, 'Allons-y.'

Twelve deliberately threaded his fingers slowly through his curly hair and raised his eyebrows, knowing it would create a stir between his 'fans'.

Eleven walked alongside them, marvelling at the scene Twelve was making while he strummed randomly on his guitar and nearly fell asleep. By the looks of things, he had gotten himself really very high, and now, like the brothers they all were, they were going to have to look after him. Hauling him up the stairs, they pushed him onto his bed, but by that time, he was already fast asleep. Looking down at him and all shaking their heads in unison, they laughed at the spectacle of Twelve sprawled out on his bed.

'God knows what he'll be like in the morning.' Nine said, grinning. They all wondered off to their beds, getting undressed to the boxers and sliding into bed. As he contemplated the colour and shape of the ceiling patterns, he cast his thoughts back to what Ten had said earlier on about love. It was a deep and awakening concept, but it couldn't just be an infatuation, could it? He hadn't really considered the comment much at the time, but now it sent all parts of his brain whirring. Did he actually love her? Was he in love with Miss Oswald? He shut his eyes tight, and an uncontrollable grin appeared as it rang clearly in his mind:

'John Smith is in love with Miss Oswald.'