cigarettes ☹ alex turner

II

I'M JUST STARING at him, completely unable to form words. "I, uh-" I begin, but cut myself off before I have the chance to. I did not want to say anything stupid at all. If anything, I would like to redeem myself from running out like I had to desperately pee. Why, that was a great excuse. "I needed the toilet Sir, sorry."

His back was turned as he set some papers on his desk and turned around to face me. It was overwhelming in itself, to see him so close; what a beautiful man. His eyes were big, warm and welcoming, the same softness that Bev had earlier this morning. His lips were plump, reasonably sized but the colour was as though he had too many strawberries. A jaw that was carved very carefully, but hastefully as it possessed sweeping, sharp cut throat edges, and his cheekbones were no different.

"Richard, why were you two late this morning?" He asked, completely disregarding what I told him, as though it never really happened. He faced him now, Richard having the grace of his preciously elegant features.

Richard looked at me, most probably wondering whether he should disclose the fact that I had mental illnesses, and we were discussing my well being. Please don't, Richard, I think, hoping that telepathically somehow he got my message. "We take the bus," is the best that he can come up with.

Mr Turner nods, but it seems unrelated somehow. "Very well. Please give Miss-" he pauses, waiting for my name. He looks very briefly at his sheet, maybe not reading anything at all. "Eve and I a moment."

Richard nods, and walks outside quickly but signals to me that he will be waiting outside, and I subtly nod in agreement. "Miss Eve," he begins.

"Sorry Sir, my name is Kimberly, Kimberly Browne," I correct him, but in the softest of tones, hoping to prevent myself from causing further trouble. "Sorry, there must be some mistake on the registrar. Please, sit," he offers kindly as he gestures towards the chair directly in front of him.

Hesitantly, I take a seat, feeling completely overwhelmed as he towers over me, but at this angle he continues to bless me with his beauty. "I hope you understand that should you need the ladies' or any other facility, you just have to tell me, nevermind ask."

I am breathless by the way his northern voice directs me, how an accent so common among people sounded so unique, so smooth but deep, demanding but gentle. "Yes, Sir," I say, bowing my head down in embarrassment. "May I be excused?" I ask kindly.

"Just a moment, Miss Browne," he says, now sitting opposite me and I can feel his knee graze against mine, but he immediately sits further back to avoid the meeting. Well done, me. A man can not even handle my knees; it seems like I have a thousand and one things to change for myself.

Despite him sitting back slightly, it was almost as though he continued the intimacy. "I may not be as young, Miss, but I am aware that a trip to the ladies' does not take as long as 25 minutes," he smiles, and I swoon internally, my head falling to a side, and smiling myself. "Should you want to tell me what went on, I would be more than happy to know."

I nodded, desperate to leave, and sprinted out the door and took several deep breaths. He seemed so sweet, even though I missed his entire lesson, the first of this academic year, I might add.

Soon afterwards, I am greeted by Richard. "Alright? You seem flustered?" He asks in both politeness and concern.

I shake my head and try to forget everything, but as usual, the things that we try to forget end up lingering in our mind even more. "Almost had another panic attack again, but I left quickly; thank god."

He rubs his forehead, obviously quite confused. He knew the nature of my panic attacks.

"What happened when Mr Turner approached your desk? Why did you have a panic attack?" He asked another question, obviously curious.