I FELT THE same thing I never seemed to stop feeling. Nervousness and anxiety bubbled and overflowed within me; this time more than ever.
My legs were trembling and failing to hold me upright. My teeth never seemed to lack success in the doing of stopping the action of biting my lips as all my movements became faster than usual.
Formally, Sir Bloomsbury opened the door for me as I mumbled a quiet 'thank you' before walking in somewhat peacefully.
My eyes remained on the floor as Sir took in a deep breath before speaking. "You are questioning your existence in this room, I believe."
I nod; not wanting to speak.
"The answer is very simple; yet very, very complicated," he spoke and I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but that is the biggest load of bullshit I had ever heard. That made absolutely no sense whatsoever.
He chuckles, noticing my confusion as I flush in embarrassment. Well fucking done, Kimberly!
"Take a seat and I will try to make this sound as simplistic as I can," he says and gestures to the seat in front of his desk.
I obediently do as he requested, as I fumble around with my fingers, waiting for the next set of instructions.
Taking a seat, Sir Bloomsbury makes sure to make the action of eye contact consistent. "First of all, I would like you to calm down; this isn't a chastisement session, this is more of a proposition. "
I wipe my sweaty palms against the material of my skirt and take slow, deep breaths.
What kind of proposition? I have never been offered a proposition in school that isn't somewhat academic.
"Would you mind informing me of this 'proposition'?" I try to say in the most un-sarcastic voice I could muster.
He envelops his fingers together before looking at me. "I am fully aware of your smoking habits," he says and grabs a packet of Dunhill's, "Cigarette?"
I gasp in shock. I never expected to get caught for this. I never had got caught before, and I had been smoking for around two years.
He lights up the cigarette and places it between my fingers and I clench my fist, trying to control the urge of smoking it.
The familiar odour of cigarette smoke and tobacco began to fill the room and into my nostrils; being used to it, I didn't feel the urge to cough. It was all too familiar.
He chuckles and ruffles my hair. "Just kidding. You don't actually think I'll make you?"
I shake my head as he grabs the cigarette from my fingers and smokes it himself. He glances his watch with a furrow of his eyebrows. "He should be here by now," he mutters in slight annoyance.
I join him in the action of furrowing his eyebrows. Who should be here by now? I try and think of people who were to be here, but no one came to mind.
Sir shakes his head and looks to me again. "Right. I'm going to continue anyways; it looks as though you desperately need answers."
Are you fucking stupid? Of course I need answers.
"I've been aware in regards to your anxiety, for some time now," he sighs. "Your parents, as I'm sure you know, are very concerned."
I roll my eyes. "I'm, I'm fine."
"Not in regards to your mental health you aren't," he says, and puts out the cigarette, seeing that his practical joke had lost its essence.
I furrow my eyebrows. Why was I called in just in regards about my mental health? I had a therapist, Beverly, who was using all her energy to help me as much as she could. I could handle the panic attacks, I mean.... No, I couldn't. Despite the fact that I had experienced panic attacks quite a few times, that didn't mean I got used to it.
It definitely didn't mean that.
"Am I only called in because of my-my anxie-anxiety?" I sighed, annoyed at the fact I was stuttering again.
"Not only that," he shakes his head, "your anxiety isn't a cup of tea, I'm fully aware of that, but, your other mental health problems aren't that great either. You're anorexic, am I right?"
I nod. Although you won't notice probably because I'm too fat to be even considered anorexic. But I'll get there, I'll get there soon.
He rubs his lips together in thought. "Right," he takes another breath, "that is also killing you. I can tell. You haven't eaten in days, have you?"
"I was forced to eat yesterday," I mumble.
He smiles, maybe smugly? "That's great. Who by?"
Not Alex, obviously. I rub my neck before answering him. "My parents," I lie.
He raises his eyebrows before smirking and taking another drag of his cigarette. Here we go. "Really? I was just informed by your parents that they had to go away in emergency because of the fact that your grandmother is quite ill."
I shake my head with a sigh. Chewing my lip, I try to think of why he was asking all these questions he probably knew the answer too.
"Why am I called here, sir?" I ask, which was the question I needed answered ages ago. I didn't acknowledge what he said, I didn't want to think about that right now. The open wound of last night was still there.
"Mental illnesses can kill people, Kimberly. More than you think," he started, completely ignoring my question as a whole which resulted in me to hide a building irritation within me.
"You are intelligent, Miss Browne. I know this for a fact," he declares confidently, as I shake my head in disbelief.
I wasn't intelligent or dumb; I was neither. I was in between the two.
"And in order for this intelligence and wide aspirations of yours to go to good use, we need to improve every part of you there is. Including your critical medical condition," he informs.
My parents turned to Sir Bloomsbury because they were that worried. Fantastic. That's exactly what I needed.
"What are your intentions, Sir Bloomsbury?" I said and tried not to cringe at how formally I had been speaking with him. I still had to though, it was a necessity ordered by none other than Sir himself.
"You shall see. As for now, please allow me to continue with my explanation. I'm sure there are still remaining questions in your head that are most probably eating you alive."
Yes, there are questions in my head. One of them includes what your intentions are, you ass.
"I'm sure you have figured out by now that your parents have contacted me for support on this matter despite the fact you have a therapist. Her name is Beverly Rose, I believe."
I nod. He better not say anything bad concerning her though. My health did not depend on my therapist, the same as a doctor. She helped as much as she could but what I did was another separate issue of its own.
"I'm sure, she's a great therapist. She's gotten you along for some time now," he says and I nod in agreement. You're damn right she is. "But I have to speed up your recovery, Miss Browne, as it is taking an incredibly long time."
What is he going to do? More importantly, what can he do? Does he know anything about my mental illness? Does he know anything about psychology as a whole? Or is he just going to prescribe me on more meds like Bev? That probably wasn't possible; he wasn't a psychiatrist or any other kind of doctor.
"I've heard you have a large admiration associated with poetry, Kimberly," he says.
What else does he know? What else did my parents tell him? I know they were worried, but did they have to tell them everything? Why don't they tell him that I'm wearing black panties today as well?
"Yes, I do enjoy poetry," I admit shyly.
"Lucky you, Miss Browne," he grins.
What did he mean by that? How could I be lucky? I mean, in this regard, obviously. I am very lucky to go to school and have a house and have money and-
"So sorry, Sir. I had some marking to catch up on," I hear Alex's familiar Sheffield accent as my heartbeat increases and I begin to tremble. Oh my God. I am extremely sexually frustrated but also very anxious about perhaps being expelled. I am very very confused.
"No worries, Alexander. Take a seat next to Miss Browne for me," he orders, and there is that smug ass grin on his face.
What the actual hell was Alex doing here? I mean, it was already so awkward. I mean, it wasn't awkward, but it was just not the way a teacher and student relationship should feel like.
I had kissed him. He didn't kiss me, I did and he was lovely enough to kiss me back and I was lucky enough to have experienced that.
It wasn't only that though, because if it was, it would of left a never-ending aura of awkward, which we obviously didn't share.
We also shared a series of meaningful words. I mean, it wasn't as though we admitted our love for one another, but it was almost as meaningful.
At least to me anyways.
Romantic desires aside, what did he have to do with my mental illness? It wasn't as though the school knew that Alex was an anxiety trigger for me.
I felt that panic attack, it was crawling and slowly deceiving me so it could begin. Lucky enough, I controlled it before it could do anything and get any more severe and controlling.
"Alright, Kim?" He whispers so only I could hear, as my eyes widen in surprise.
I thought we weren't going to acknowledge each other throughout the period of time we were going to continue to share in the headmaster's office? That would've been easier, at least for me.
"Yes," I muster. I tremble faster and more noticeably now, as I try to control myself and try to calm down.
Not now; definitely not here.
I got to see everything, his appearance was a whole lot better, almost as good as last night.
I shivered. Why did everything I thought about come back to the topic of last night? It wasn't as though I wanted it that way.
Sir Bloomsbury turns around to grab an ashtray as Alex does something I never expected him to do. He grabs my hand, as shivers run down my spine, intertwines our fingers together before placing it beneath his bum and keeping it there. Perhaps he was trying to hide the fact that we were holding hands? My heart swelled.
I didn't pull away, because I wanted it. And I'm not going to lie. I'm enjoying it; his butt is lovely. I miss the feeling of his hands, and now that I felt it, I wanted it there for the longest period of time possible.
It was such a simple action, such an innocent and smart one as well. Alex was fully aware that Sir couldn't see past our chests because of the desk blocking our view. He knew that it was wrong.
Yet he was doing it.
I flushed and gasped; I couldn't help it. My hand was beneath a man's bum for god's sake. Not only that, but it was a man who I liked, a man whom I fancied and loathed for more presence of.
How could I not flush or gasp?
I could feel Alex's smirk, and in all honesty, I hated him for doing this to me, especially now.
Really, Alexander?
I began to tremble even more now; the contact was igniting me too much to the point that I almost couldn't handle it.
"Right then," Sir begins and I almost thank him mentally for being some kind of distraction. He places his ashtray on his desk and lightly taps away some of the ash that was forming on the end of his cigarette before taking another drag.
"So, to recap, Alex, she has severe anxiety and from all the lessons she has, she tends to have her majority of panic attacks in your lessons," he chuckles.
What's so fucking funny?
"Why is that so, Kim?" Alex turns around and asks me, his voice so sexy and beautiful I couldn't breathe.
You sexy, cheeky bastard. "I-I-I," I stutter and clear my throat and try to speak again, "he-he's the new teacher so, I'm still-still getting used to h-him."
"I'm sick of not saying what I wish to say," Sir exclaims a little louder than the previous phrases that left his mouth.
What the hell do you want to say? It wasn't as though I didn't want to you to postpone what you want to say. I've been hearing all this background shit which I already knew.
Most of it, anyways.
"Alex- Mr David, I would like you to help Kimberly," he said and a gasp left my lips again.
Why the hell did he want that? Even though he vaguely knew that Alex was an anxiety trigger, and that we both liked poetry. If I spend anymore time with Alex I might implode.
"I'm flattered, thank you Tom, honestly," Alex thanks with gratitude. Why was he happy about this? "But, I don't think I'm right for this, I'm not professionally trained for this and she can barely make out a single word when she's near me."
Sir Bloomsbury-'Tom' smiled. "You just listed all the reasons as to why you're incredibly suited for this particular task."
Alex furrowed his eyes in confusion- he was so fucking cute. "How so?"
Sir sits up properly and looks at Alex directly before holding a single finger, signalling for him to wait. He grabs some sort of papers, photographs? And shows them to Alex. "I- I can explain-"
"It's alright, Al. It's completely fine."
What on earth were they talking about? I wish I could see the photograph, but I couldn't; it was directed at Alex only so he could see. I looked at both of their faces, trying to work it out by looking at them.
Sir Bloomsbury notices this and shows the photo to me and I freeze as my heartbeat thumps too loud, disabling my ability to think.
"Sir Bloomsbury I can assure you I-"
"Like I said to 'Alex' here, it's completely fine. I'm actually glad it happened," he said and my jaw dropped.
He just saw a photo of Alex kissing my neck and he said that it was fine? I honestly didn't understand this principal at all.
I turned around to Alex and realised my hand was still resting against his bum and I tried to move it yet I failed and it seemed as though I was rubbing his arse on purpose.
Alex smiled at me and my heart fluttered. I just wanted to wrap my hands around him and give him a long-
"Okay, okay, keep that for later would you?" Sir grimaces and I blush bright red.
Alex rubbed his neck shyly, which is honestly the best thing ever. He's so cute yet sexy and beautiful like how can he be all the above? That's not all though, he's talented as fuck and I considered myself lucky just to look at him. I mentally salute his parents.
"Do whatever you please, David. Just don't make her in a worse state than she's already in and then I'm fine. Heal her, Alexander. Heal her."