Every time I saw Mr. Lee, I speed-walked in the other direction. However, I couldn't do that during class, especially when he would occasionally glance at me and the ghost of a smile would form on his lips. It made me want him only a thousand times more.

It was three days after our encounter in the bathroom on the bus. We didn't have another meet until next week, so thankfully I had today and the weekend to sort out my thoughts. Due to the awfully rainy weather and constant flood warnings, our practices were delayed until next week. Starting then, we would go to practice no matter what the condition. The rain already stopped today, though, so I knew we were in the clear.

I noticed that September was slowly fading into October, the leaves falling off the trees and drying to their death, their broken bodies crumbling into specks. New leaves would grow in replace of old ones, their vibrant colors decorating the grounds and trees, some blowing around with the frequent gusts of wind.

I sat slouched in my seat, the sound of the wind from the open window lulling everybody to sleep. Even Mr. Lee looked especially tired. His eyes were a dull blue, which was unusual for the usual liveliness. Stubble dusted his chin and his brown curls atop his head were tousled. Oddly enough, he looked rather mesmeric.

Him and I had been awfully uncoordinated. I was more nervous than usual when I locked eyes with him. He would drain me of my sanity the second his eyes would swerve to mine, daring me to spark up a conversation. But yet, he hadn't said a word to me.

Our situation in the bathroom had somehow changed both of us. For me, our connection felt more strong; so strong that I was afraid to look at him, deep in fear that his sinfully astounding looks would cause me to get swallowed by an anxiety attack. Every time he saw me, though, he would look for only ten seconds and then turn away as if he hadn't done it.

I haven't spent my free periods sleeping in his classroom. I spent them sitting uncomfortably straight on the gym bleachers, which usually resulted in an aching back and judgmental glares. I was far too neurotic to be alone with him, but at the same time I wanted to more than anything. However, today I decided to give it another chance.

When class ended and lunch breezed by, a granola bar the only thing in my stomach, I dismissed myself from the table by pushing out my chair and grabbing my belongings.

"Where are you going?" Vera asked as she shoved a potato chip in her mouth with one hand and held her phone in the other.

Mr. Garcia, I wrote distractedly and quickly showed it to her. It was a lie, but I would probably visit him later anyways. I needed to talk to him.

"Alright. See you," she said, waving her hand with a smattering of chips nestled in her palm. Her words came out as "alwight, hee hoo" instead because she couldn't seem to stop refilling her mouth with the potato chips. She opened her mouth and showed me her mushed up food resting on her tongue. I wrinkled my nose in disgust and flipped her off playfully, in which she happily returned. For a girl as beautiful as her, she could sure be disgusting.

When I left the table, I heard someone sit down next to her and jump right into a conversation. Her popularity never failed to bewilder me.

I made my way to the third floor and stood in front of Mr. Lee's classroom door. On the rectangular glass window on the classroom door, a blue post-it note was stuck to it with tiny script hand-writing. I moved closer to examine it.

Students,

Out to buy lunch, be back in 20 minutes. Do not go in without my permission or you will receive a detention slip.

-Mr. Lee

It seemed reasonable that he would leave a note, since I've witnessed students going in classrooms without the teacher present, only to mess up their belongings or take back a phone that got taken away, probably for misbehaving. It didn't seem like Mr. Lee left his classroom often, either. The only times he's not in there from what I see is in the morning before any classes start or occasionally during the two free periods after lunch.

I couldn't just wait in the hallway for twenty minutes, but I didn't want to just go in without permission either. It's not like he was going to give me detention, anyways. I decided to overstep my boundaries just a little bit.

With my heart already thumping at its usual anxiety-packed rate, I turned the knob on the door. I didn't get far at all. Five seconds later, a voice erupted my focus on the knob.

"Excuse you, what do you think you're doing?" his voice asked sternly, a purposeful clearing of his throat coming afterwards. I knew it was him right away; it's not like it could have been anyone else but my fast pacing heart could detect him from miles away.

"I-"

"Shhhh." He cut off my attempted excuse as to why I was going in. He put his finger on his lips, as if to shush me, and I so badly wanted him to put his finger on my own lips instead of his.

"I'm just joking with you," he said, a smile breaking out on his exposed lips, his fingers now brushing through his hair. In his other hand, he held a plain salad. He immediately started laughing at my scared expression.

He was wearing a black button down coat, with his black framed glasses perched on his nose. He was wearing dark jeans and dark brown shoes as well, and I couldn't help but think for the thousandth time that he was amazing at putting together outfits. His eyes were back to their usual glowing dark blue. I wondered why they were a duller shade a little more than an hour ago during his class.

"You looked so nervous," he said, a big smile on his lips as he stood to catch his breath. A laugh escaped my throat and before I knew it, I was laughing along with him.

It was strange. When I laughed, his eyes widened a bit with a sad glimmer in them, yet he was smiling. I couldn't place why, but the sadness faded and he was laughing and I was laughing and amidst my loud fit of giggles and his manly chuckles, I had never felt so content.

He cleared his throat and I wiped away a stray tear from my eye. The funny thing is that he seemed genuinely amused, while I on the other hand was laughing with not just amusement, but nervousness as well.

"You have such a melodic laugh," he sighed. I blushed violently.

"Let's go, shall we? Ladies first." He switched the subject painfully quick. He opened the classroom door and gestured at the classroom doorway, but I stood in my spot like a deer in a headlight. My heart thumped crazily and my mouth and tongue were so dry that it felt like I would never be able to talk again.

Come on, seriously? A panic attack right now? Everything was going so well.

My thoughts were going wild but that was only internally. On the outside, I was so still. Tears were beginning to pool out of my eyes, but this time it wasn't out of laughter. Why did I have to cry so much? I am honestly so pathetic and weak. I shouldn't have come back to school; I should still be in a psychiatric hospital. I'm still just the girl who killed her mother.

Mr. Lee frowned and put his salad on the floor.

"Come here," he said. He opened his arms out to me. I don't remember if he moved to me or I moved to him, but a few seconds later his strong build was against my torso, his muscular arms were firmly wrapped around my tiny body and the familiar and absolutely exquisite scent of peppermint paddies encircled me. I was almost positive I was getting tears on his fancy coat, but as long as he didn't care, I didn't either.

He brought me into the classroom, shut the door, and sat me down on a desk, my feet dangling off the edge. He knelt down so that his face was inches lower than mine, but almost leveled.

"It's okay to be scared. It's okay to cry. Let it all out," he murmured reassuringly as he grabbed a box of tissues from his desk. He appeared back to kneeling down in front of me, concern outlining his structured face. He parted his lips slightly. He pulled one out from the box and with his gentle touch, he blotted my tears and my nose. He pulled away a few strands of hair that had stuck to my damp face, and his fingers left a trail of buzzing electricity in my cheeks.

My panic attack passed. My heart wasn't racing as fast anymore and I didn't feel like I was going to pass out. I felt normal again, and he was the reason for it.

He started to pull away his hand, but my small fingers wrapped around half of his wrist, for that was all they could reach.

"Don't let go." I said, my voice wavering but more clear than it ever was before.

He smiled with just his lips. He raised his other hand and touched it to my cheek, resting it there. It felt so beautiful.

"I wouldn't in a million years," he whispered sadly. "That's the hard part." His smile was even sad, but his gaze was so warm and comforting that I couldn't focus on the sadness.

I then realized why he was sad. This was forbidden. And yet, here he was, providing me with so much comfort and so much emotion than I had ever felt before.

"It's wrong," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"It really is," he replied breathlessly, his hand caressing my cheek, my eyes locked on his complexion.

I didn't care that it was wrong, and I was sure he didn't either.