Alex - The Novella

Okay, I was pissed, but I didn't know why. Alex was just a student, and it shouldn't matter to me if she was fucking anyone. That was her business! As long as she produced results and gave me no trouble, I shouldn't find any fault with her. But the problem was, I had felt this searing pain when dollface had stepped out of the stall in front of Alex. I couldn't really explain it; I couldn't really place what I felt, either. It was a feeling of something between anger, pain and jealousy. And why either feeling should rise in me... it didn't make any sense at all.

I drove home in a pretty shitty mood, honking at drivers that I normally wouldn't honk at. Every radio station seemed to hate me, and even the traffic lights had plotted against me. But after the third honk at some poor soul, I managed to convince myself that I was merely PMSing and wasn't angry at what I'd seen back in school. It took me a whole ten minutes of drive time to tell myself that, and even after that, I didn't feel a whole lot better.

That night, I did nothing but indulge in a tub of Cookies and Cream ice cream, neglecting the scripts I had to look through for my Lit class. That was a first for me. I'd never neglected work before.

As I stared at another episode of a Friends re-run, my mind couldn't resist wandering back to the episode this evening. The look on Alex's face - like a contented, well-satisfied woman - pissed me off something fierce. I realized that I wanted to put that look there - which was absurd, since I wasn't even gay! I shoved a large spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. No, I definitely wasn't a lesbian, and I needed to stop thinking of my student as a sex toy. I needed to be professional.

I suppose what irked me the most was that I was mourning something I could never have. Even with Peter, the real estate agent I'd dated for a few months when I first arrived in Singapore, I'd never mourned. Sure, I was a little sad when I realized it would never go anywhere and I'd felt guilty for not having the courage to end it sooner (and using him to get a condo under market value, but that was another issue), but I'd never mourned him on the couch with ice cream.

And, I recalled, it had been the same for Connor, my boyfriend at Sheffield. I mean, my visa ran out. The practical thing was to move on. Connor had been upset when I told him that I'd gotten a job in Singapore, but really, all I'd felt was relief. No mourning needed. On to new horizons and all that jazz.

So why the hell was I having a pity party on the couch now?

I sifted through the sixty channels I had, thinking about the way Alex's dark eyes could look at me as though they were reading my soul and the way her smile made my heart jump just a little.

I became lost in a dream-plagued sleep after that, filled with the smell of melted ice cream and visions of beautiful, haunting onyx eyes.

*

I kept clear of her radar for the next few months. I'd see her in class, yes, but that was it. Whenever I spotted her hanging out in the canteen or near the basketball courts, I'd walk in the opposite direction, knowing exactly how much one appreciative look from her could cause my student-crush to exacerbate.

That's what I'd decided to call it - a student-crush. I'd done some research about it, and realized that it was pretty common amongst teachers to have a crush on a student, especially when he or she was a class-topper. The crushes usually came and faded quickly, an anonymous teacher had said, and I took courage in that. Maybe one day, I'd wake up and find that I hadn't had a dream about her.

It was one of those nights - those hot, stuffy September nights - when I couldn't sleep, that I decided to log on to Skype to see who was available for a chat. It was about two in the morning and I couldn't resist a yawn as I waited for the little whoosh to say that I was online. It would be two in the afternoon back home and I hoped Charm would be online to chat with. It had been a while since I talked to anyone close, and I'd begun to miss having family close-by, although I'd rather pull my own teeth out than tell my mom that.

A notification popped up just as I clicked on the first unread e-mail in my inbox. The contact's screen name was Alex0809, and my mind went from sleep-hazy to electrifyingly alert in two seconds. I vaguely remembered that I'd passed my e-mail address out to my students so that they could e-mail a soft copy of their assignments to me. So, this had to be...

I clicked 'accept' and the first message said: 'Couldn't sleep?'

My brows furrowed at the message. It sounded way too personal.

Yes, I replied. Why are you up so late?

Alex: Oh, I'm working on an e-novel right now, and I need to submit the second chapter of it by tomorrow night, so... deadlines suck.

Me: Wow. A novel. Really? What is it about?

I was intrigued. None of my students had ever worked on a novel before. Or at least, I didn't know if they had.

Alex: It's not much yet. Quite generic supernatural crap. I write for a website that churns out romance novels - terrible stuff.

Me: Ah, I see. Still, that's a good way to make some cash as a student. I can imagine you writing a supernatural novel. You have a natural flair for it.

Alex: Really?

Me: Absolutely.

Alex: That a really nice compliment... especially coming from you.

Oh, dear. Was she hitting on me again? My gut twisted into an anxious knot of desire at the thought.

Me: No problem. I was only being truthful.

Alex: Thanks.

There was a pause, then she said: Hey, Miss S?

Cady: Yes?

Alex: Why are you online if you can't sleep?

A flush stole across my cheeks as I stared down at the words in front of me. I knew what she was thinking; I could envision the smirk on her face as she thought it. But I wasn't going to shy away from her taunts any longer.

Me: I wanted to reply to some e-mails since I have the time.

Alex: Of course.

My face was definitely on fire.

Me: It's getting late, isn't it? I should probably get to sleep. Long day tomorrow! I'll see you in school.

Alex: Yeah, of course. Sleep tight.

Me: Goodnight to you, too.

I sighed in relief as I shut my laptop down, feeling as though I'd just fought a battle. My palms were slick and I was pretty sure I'd gotten a great start on some serious boob sweat. I had no idea why Alex made me so nervous. It's not like I hadn't had crushes before. There'd been Rob in third grade, Haden in seventh, and the first guy I'd slept with - Vince in the tenth grade. They'd all been really nice - except for Rob, he hated me - but they sure as hell hadn't made me nervous. I didn't know why just talking to Alex made me feel like there my insides were on fire. It was weird.

I rolled over in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Speaking to Alex had gotten the adrenaline running through my veins, and now, I couldn't sleep. Groaning, I stumbled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Maybe a nice, cold bath would help soothe the heat in my body, or perhaps the detachable showerhead could be put to better use...

*

Intimate encounters with Alex were few and spread out through the two school years that I had with her. The first was the toilet debacle and the last was when she had buzzed the teacher's lounge looking for me. A meeting had just let out when I'd been extremely surprised to hear that she had been waiting for me for the past half hour.

She stood as I walked over to her, balancing a stack of assignments in one hand and my briefcase in another. Without my asking, she hefted the papers out of my hands and set it on the park-style bench she'd been sitting on. I was impressed by her manners, and quickly lapsed into small talk. She replied appropriately, but the look on her face was unreadable as I sank down onto the bench, asking her what she needed.

"So...what did you want to see me about, Alex?" Thank god my voice didn't betray the suddenly eccentric thump of my heart.

She just looked so sexy when she frowned. Damn it! No, I didn't just think that. It wasn't me.

"I just, um...well, I was wondering if you could..." I nodded slowly to encourage her as she seemed to have some trouble in getting the words out of her throat. Her fingers began fiddling with the little 'I Miss You' keychain that hung on the briefcase I'd set by my side.

"Present from a boyfriend?"

I was pretty thrown from the change of topic, and normally, if anyone else had asked me that question, I'd have laughed at them and told them Grandma Ellie had sent me that two years ago as part of a care package. But with Alex... the question seemed pretty loaded, somehow. I mean, I should know. I was the one who was analyzing her monthly assignments. The girl was pretty deep.

"Does that have anything to do with why you're here?" I said a little too sharply after a moment of awkward silence. She let the keychain clink back into place.

"No, Miss Summers. I just... I wanted to ask you something..." she trailed off and rose from the chair. As I watched, she bit her lip, probably debating how to say what she had to say.

"Miss S, I'm having a little trouble."

Now, of all things I'd expected to hear, that was surely not one of them. I'd never thought that Alex would be the one who would come to her teacher to ask for assistance. It just wasn't very... Alex.

"What kind of trouble?" I asked slowly, knowing that this might very well be a delicate subject. She turned around and stared intently at a spot above my before murmuring:

"I've hit a rut."

Again, I gave her that slow nod. A rut? What exactly did she mean? Financially, emotionally... what? When she didn't expound on her statement, I extended a question of my own.

"What kind of rut? Can I help?"

With a sigh, she looked back at me. I crossed my legs and stared up at her, a little worried by her countenance. She was looking more unkempt than usual, with her hair sticking out in odd directions and her uniform in total disarray.

Something was up and it was serious. I could feel it now. The air around her was humming with what seemed to be dread.

"What's wrong, Alex?" I asked again, quietly. I knew that if I showed her how worried and concerned I was about her, she might shut me out, like most teens tended to do when someone cared too much about them. Hell, I used to do the same thing. But I was her teacher and couldn't help but worry.

"I have this thing, see. And I can't..."

"You can't?" I prompted.

She sighed heavily, looking down at her fingers - what lean fingers they were.

"I can't seem to write anymore," she said in something that resembled a whisper. Her eyes flickered to mine hesitantly before she looked away. "It's like... whenever I think of the topic I'm supposed to be working on, nothing comes up. It's blank. And it freaks me out. A lot."

At that moment in time, she looked so much like the insecure teenager that she was, that I ached to take her into my arms and coddle her. I knew what she had was writer's block, something that all writers stumbled upon one time or another, but I wanted to wipe the worried frown off her face with more than just words.

"Miss S, I've considered everything. This isn't writer's block. Writer's block can't possibly feel like that. Like I can't string a plausible sentence together. Nothing seems right."

And then, there was the fighter in her again. I knew the writer in her was fighting for an explanation to cling onto, to dispel the notion that it was not a long-term thing. And that spirit made me want to pull her close and give her a reassuring hug.

"Have you thought about other explanations? Do you have something on your mind that you're supposed to do, but aren't doing? Something important? Maybe some personal issues? All these things can explain a temporary block." I proposed.

"I don't know," she said, sounding rather pissed off and annoyed at something. I stood, gathering my things.

"Do you need an extension for the next assignment?"

"Yes. I thought I could get a draft done by today or something, but I couldn't. Can I have another week or so? I hope something comes to me by then."

I assessed the honesty in her eyes, half-knowing I could trust her. The other half was the deviant inside me that wanted to back her up against the wall and kiss the crap out of her.

I cleared my throat.

"I trust you," I told her frankly, "and if you need an extension, you have until the end of the month. That gives you ten days to hand in whatever you can for your Prelim score. Let's just hope that this block of yours doesn't extend into the A Levels. I'd hate to see you get anything but an A for Creative."

Her smile was infectious, and I found myself smiling back. Her lips were perfectly proportionate and infinitely inviting, with the lower lip slightly thicker than the upper.

"Yeah. You and me both, Miss S," she said on a sigh. "Thank you."

"No problem. I was a student once, too, you know."

Another smile, this one brighter than the previous, and it reached her eyes. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her school skirt.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yep. In class tomorrow."

She turned away from me with a little wave, then looked back after she took two steps. "Thanks again, Miss S. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Anytime, Alex."

I walked straight into Staff Room, past the several empty desks and dropped myself onto the swivel chair in my little cubicle. I cleared the papers off my desk and rested my head on the table, rapping it on the table once, twice, thrice, trying to dispel the terrible thoughts from my head. But it was no use. The only thing that did was give me a botchy red patch on my head that made my colleagues ask if I'd had an accident.

Chapter Three

At the end of three years in Singapore, I found myself gazing at the cityscape from the window of my condo, trying to memorize every detail of the place I'd be leaving in a month. It had been a hectic few years and all that remained were fine memories of a fine time spent in a fine city.

If I had regrets about the time that I spent here, I buried it, because I knew that I only regretted doing - or should I say, not doing - one thing. In about a month, I would be out of here, far, far away from her and she wouldn't bother me anymore.

I still remembered the moment when she'd come up to me after her final paper, which happened to be Creative Writing, wearing the smile that I'd come to dream about through fitful nights.

She'd told me that the paper had been easy, and the topic to write on had been do-able. There had been something in her eyes, a sadness that I could identify with, that made my heart clench, and I knew that she was trying to come around to saying goodbye. She took her time about it, too, talking about everything and anything until one of her badass friends came up to her and pulled her away. And even then, she'd looked back at me with a smile that mirrored more than the gratefulness a student shows her teacher... or maybe I'd finally cracked.

I sighed heavily and turned away from the window, mentally calculating that it had been exactly two months and ten days since the time I had seen her last. I hated to admit that I was yearning to see her again, but I knew that that was the truth.

There were big, cardboard boxes strewn all over the condo, and some of them were already filled and scotch-taped to be shipped over to my grandmother's (and mother's) place in NY. The place looked very bare now, and lacked the character that my pretty throw cushions gave it. I sighed again as I flopped onto the bare couch and reached out for the stack of mail on the coffee table.

"Bills, bills, bills..." I muttered under my breath just as the phone started to ring.

Okay, I knew it was pathetic, but phone calls always got me excited, because it usually meant that someone was calling from home. And over the past few days, I'd become so homesick that I'd actually called Mom twice in a day. Being away from family for years kinda had that effect on most people.

"Hello?" I said cheerily into the phone as I flicked lint off my black tank top.

"Hey."

I think my heart stopped for a moment, and my fingers stilled on my stomach. That voice. I knew that voice. But it couldn't be. She didn't know my number. How could she?

"Um, hi. Do I know you?" I asked quizzically into the phone, hesitance in my voice.

"Yeah, you do, Miss S."

I swallowed thickly. I never really got over that drawl.

"Alex."

"Yeah. How are you?"

"I'm good. Alex, is something up?"

It was a bad habit of mine to start pacing when I got worked up about something. My feet were already making tracks through the thick carpet in the living room. Why was she calling? God! Now I'd be thinking about this conversation for the next few weeks.

You're a sad little shit, you know, the little voice in my head said.

Yeah, I know.

"Nothing's up, Miss S. Just wanted to talk to you."

I raised an arched brow in response.

"Really?" I said in the most sarcastic voice possible. "You call your teacher, whom you haven't seen in two months, in the middle of the afternoon to tell her that you 'just wanted to talk to her'?"

She laughed, the husky vibrations of it emanating from the phone and sluicing down my body. I bit my lip. Damn her.

"Well, yeah. And besides, you aren't my teacher anymore."

That last comment took me by surprise. I wouldn't say that the thought hadn't crossed my mind - that she had, indeed, graduated from school already and that I was not her teacher anymore - but hearing her say it had a profound effect on me. Mostly, my tummy just coiled in tighter knots.

Had she lain in bed thinking what I'd been thinking? That there was nothing stopping us now if we wanted something more? Somehow, the fact that I wasn't even gay didn't stop me from thinking of going out with her.

I decided to be forward with Alex.

"Alex, did you want something?"

There was a long pause. Then I heard her breath rasp over the phone.

"Yeah, I do, Miss S. I want you." For a moment, my world stilled and every muscle in my body went limp. I leaned against the wall, wondering what the hell was wrong with the world, when she continued with her sentence. "...to go out with me next Friday."

A gush of air rushed past my lips as I started breathing again. Did she know that she was killing me? Was she doing this on purpose?

I shouldn't go out with her, should I? It would be like a date, wouldn't it? Oh, hell.

"What? Like a date?" my voice was high and a little squeaky. I hadn't been this nervous in... forever.

"Well, now that you mention it, I think a date would be nice, don't you think?"

Whoa. Wait. What?

"Wait. You weren't gonna ask me out on a date?" I asked with a very confused frown.

"I was about to, but since you already asked me..." she trailed off as I tried to come up with a proper rebuff. I could see her shrugging in my mind's eye. "I'll pick you up at seven, Miss S."

The line went dead. I stared at the plastic in my hand as though it had taken a bite out of me. What had just happened?

I moved forward on shaky legs and daintily seated myself on the couch, the phone call replaying itself in my head. I was going on a date. With Alex. The very Alex that had been off-limits for two years.

"Oh my god," I said aloud as I felt the blood starting to pulse faster through my veins. This was huge.