Gravity: Chapter 8

Instead of returning to your dorm as initially planned, you somehow ended up ducking into the auto shop class's garage, where you found the bottom half of a certain teacher poking out from underneath a deep blue muscle car.

"Hey, Mr. Jones," you called out to him.

He slid out from underneath the car and offered you a greeting. "Hey . . . isn't it past the time that you're supposed to be in your dorm?"

"No, I have a couple more hours."

"Oh, okay." He wiped a smudge of oil off of his face with the back of his hand before scooting back under the car. "What brings you here at this time of day?"

"I ran into Mr. Braginski."

Upon hearing what you had said, he rolled out from underneath the car and fixed you with an intense stare. "Did he touch you or something?"

"N-no, he was just being creepy—"

"Define 'creepy'."

"He said that he knew I liked him – which I don't; the guy is way too creepy – and he told me to kiss him."

Snorting, he sat up and got to his feet, crossing across the room and past you to a red toolbox. "Everybody wants you to kiss them, hon."

"Hey, don't say that."

"Well, think about it: I do, Arthur does, and now good ol' Ivan is joining the party."

"Wait, you want—?

His shoulders drooped and he ruffled his dirty blond locks. "That kiss earlier was an attempt to woo you."

"So you lied about not trying anything on me?"

"To put it simply . . . yeah, I was lying." He cast you a forlorn look. "I liked you a lot before Arthur and I still do. You can't blame a guy for trying. I just want a chance, but with the way things are working between you and your British boyfriend, things ain't looking good for a guy like me."

You laughed lightly at his deduction. "Mr. Jones—"

"Just call me Alfred."

"Alfred, things aren't working that well between Arthur and me. I've been getting tired of his smoking habit and it's really getting to me."

His eyes lit up and his lips were forming into a grin. "Are you saying that I might have a chance?"

"Maybe."

The man apparently had no understanding of the word 'maybe' as he enveloped you into a lung-constricting hug. "I promise I'll treat you right and get you stuff for our anniversaries and shower you with love and—"

"Hey there, don't get excited."

"But I—"

"I said maybe."

He held you from an arm's length away and stared deep into your eyes, his own reflecting seriousness and true sincerity. "That doesn't mean I love you any less."

"Alfred—"

Those hands of his gripped you tighter and your face was pressed against his firm shoulder. "I know it's too early for that kind of sappy stuff, but I still do. If things don't work out with Arthur, then I'll be waiting in the wings for you because I don't give up easily."

Your arms encircled his broad shoulders, your heart settling into a comfortable steady rhythm in your chest as he held you; there was that feeling again, that feeling that you belonged in his embrace. A pleasant fluttering erupted in your stomach and you felt so warm, like you were holding the universe's brightest star in your hands.

"I'll see you later, Alfred, I really need to head back to my dorm," you murmured as your arms fell limp at your sides and you shied away from the young physics teacher.

"Okay, see you tomorrow, Name," he said with a chipper grin as you turned to leave.

---

Somewhere, deep down in the pit of your heart, you felt as if your bed had never been as comfy as it was when you flopped down onto it facedown. The sheets would have smelled like sunshine, rainbows, and sparkles if any of those had a scent and the comforter was like a cloud underneath your emotionally exhausted body.

"Hey, Name, you in there?" a familiar voice called from outside in the hall.

"Yeah, do you need something?" you asked with the volume of your voice dampened by the comforter.

"I just wanted to know if I could come in."

"Go ahead."

The door opened and in came Jess, already wreaking havoc on your room before her visit had reached the one minute mark by tossing her things onto the floor and collapsing into your swivel chair. "How are you, sleepy-head?"

"Sleepy."

"Obviously."

"Screw you."

"Grumpy, too?"

"Shut up."

"Okay, so what's got you down on this particular day?" she asked with an obnoxious yawn. "More boy problems?"

You snorted at that. "Only three guys actually like me, thank you very much. Mr. G. Beilschmidt doesn't count because he flirts with anything in a skirt."

"Who's lucky number three, then?"

"Mr. Braginski; but he's apparently crazy or something so I don't think he counts either."

"Uh . . . yeah, I think crazies don't count."

"Awesome, so that means that it's just Mr. Jones and Mr. Kirkland."

Jess stole a pillow from the horde you were resting your head upon and set to whacking you with it. "So, what's up with you all? I want the gory details, you hear me?!"

Something tightened in your chest; it was your heart. "I'd rather not."

"Well . . . I'll be around whenever you're ready, okay?"

"Thanks," you said with a sincere smile. "I really need to get to work on some research, so . . ."

"Say no more," she stated as she got up to leave. "Take it easy, okay?"

"Yeah, see you later."

You grabbed your laptop and sprawled out across your bed, your legs tangling with the sheets as you fine-tuned your position for optimum comfort. A few moments later and your laptop was ready for use, and use it you did; you put your favorite music on, opened up internet to explore your favorite website for new content, and cast a quick glance to your instant messenger.

There were a few new messages.

So you clicked to view them, finding them all to be from Arthur.

English_Gentleman: Name, I'm sorry. May I please speak with you?

English_Gentleman: I know you're upset, love, but I want to fix it. Just please reply and we can talk about this.

English_Gentleman: I hope you're not just ignoring these. I would very much like to set things straight between us.

Hesitantly, you type a reply:

Simply_Serendipity: Arthur, all I want is for you to drop the habit. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

You then go offline so you won't hear from him until first period.