Lasting Impressions

Chapter 28- Beautiful and Broken

Chapter 28- Beautiful and Broken 

It had been two weeks. 

An entire two weeks since I had talked to Tristan. We didn’t speak a word to each other and the only time I saw him was when I passed him in the halls or sat next to him in the dreaded Chemistry class.

That class was never fun, filled with awkward silence and plenty of tension, and not the sexual kind. He would sit completely still, gripping the pencil in his fists like it was his life line, all the while I would try to shift my chair as far away from him as possible while trying to make it as ninja silent as possible.

Turns out, I was never destined to be a ninja- despite my many fantasies of wanting to be one- as the first time I attempted to shift away from him, I happened to forget my bag sitting beside the chair and the next thing I know, I was toppling sideways, right into Tristan. Curse that damn chair…

There aren’t any words in the English language to explain the awkwardness of him staring at me like I’d grown a second head as my face was squashed into his bicep, my hand placed uncomfortably close to his ass.

I jumped up like he was fire, scooting away from him and ignoring the quiet chuckles of my classmates. Even after that, we didn’t speak.

My stomach fluttered at the thought of walking into the Chemistry class again, the fourth time that week. I really didn’t want to see him.

It was weird, it wasn’t like we were fighting or anything. We just were giving each other extra space… and it was really getting to me now.

I hated to admit it, but I was really missing him. When they say you don’t know what you’ve got ‘till it’s gone, they couldn’t be more right. I hadn’t realized what a big part he played in my life until he wasn’t really in it anymore.

I just wanted things to go back to how they were.

Taking one last deep breath and hoisting my leather bag strap further up more shoulder, I turned through the door way and walked down the isle of work benches towards my own.

Tristan was there, much to my surprise. I couldn’t even remember the last time he was here on time. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, biting my lip as he paused in the process of taking off his jacket when he saw me.

He looked… nervous.

I sat down next to him, pulling out my books from my black shoulder bag and fiddling with the zipper to mask how uncomfortable I was. He cleared his throat whilst clenching and unclenching his fists on his lap.

My eyes automatically drifted to the way his arms flexed as he did. Yum…

A few tension filled moments later, Mr. Moore walked idly through the door, wearing his usual quirky tweed suit and warn brown brief case. For a guy only in his early thirties, he dressed like someone who belonged on the Thrift Shop music video.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m a bit late,” He started, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I locked my keys in my roo- ” He stopped suddenly, eyes zooming in to Tristana and mine’s bench. “Mr. West? What are you doing here, this is going to sound quite strange… but why aren’t you late?” He asked, earning a few chuckles.

I risked a glance in Tristan’s direction. He looked down slightly, a smirk plastered on his face. “Well, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make the most of this wonderful lesson which just so happens to be at such an ungodly hour of the morning.” He smiled politely, voice filled to the brim with sarcasm and charm.

Mr. Moore chuckled, shaking his head softly. “Feel free to make it more of a habit Tristan.” He joked.