Infatuation -3-

What was that teacher's problem? I didn't understand him. What was his goal? This teacher was going through all of this trouble to 'care,' and for what? I couldn't see what he got out of all this. Nothing made sense anymore. My first day back in high school was completely trashed all because of this English teacher who seemed he cared for more than himself.


I shook the thought from my reflection immediately. No way. Teachers didn't do that. Especially not teachers who looked the way he did. I couldn't look him in the face without feeling . . . I had no idea what I felt. Damn him. In just one day, he'd completely ruined my plan for my senior year.


Steven Tyler was an even bigger issue. Why couldn't he just get over me like any other ex-boyfriend? His possessiveness was a main reason why I let him go. He could never seem to leave my company, and his jealous rages were terrifying. If a guy even looked my way, his face would flush and he'd haul me against him. Steven never went a day without telling me he adored me. Hed always hold my hands and swear that he loved me, and that he'd continue to love me until the end of time. It would have been romantic, if not for the fact it went beyond the point of obsession.


It wasn't just that. He treated my friends like they were dirt. No. Worse than dirt. Steven had treated my friends like something he had just scraped off the bottom of his sweaty cleat. The fact that Damien was gay made him an even bigger target on Steven's radar. I couldnt handle anymore of the snide, humiliating comments he shot at my friends daily. I couldn't deal with him anymore.


Steven was devastated when I finally removed him from my life. Right before he stormed from my house, he swore that I'd rue the day I let him go. He was right. Now I was getting the consequences of my actions, no matter how right I'd thought it was.


Eighth lunch was called back to class. I sighed and wiped my eyes. There was no way I'd give up so easily. Forget about my teacher. Forget about Steven Tyler. This was my last year for high school. I was going to make it as memorable as possible, no matter how it came about.


I found myself walking through the front doors as end school bell rang, wondering how the day had gone by so quickly. Usually 'time flies when you're having fun,' but I hadn't had any fun all day. In fact, the first school day back had been a total disaster. I sighed, shifting my backpack on one shoulder.


"Leslie, my dear!" Jennifer's loud, bubbly voice galloped down the school's front steps.


I turned around, laughing. "Hey! I haven't seen you since lunch."


She feigned a dramatic sigh. "I nearly died without you in my classes."


Just then, Damien stormed past us. Jennifer yelled a hello after him; he waved a hand without looking back. She turned back to me and rose her eyebrow. Unlike Jennifer, I didn't have to fake my sigh. I knew I'd have to apologize soon or later, and I preferred sooner-- rather than later.


I ran as fast as I could after him, which wasn't very swift because my shoes were so high. I was able to get close enough to grab his backpack and force him to stop. He spun around. When he recognized me, his granite expression hardened more.


"I have nothing to say to you."


"You're absolutely right. However, I have something to say to you. Even if you don't want to hear it."


He crossed his muscular arms. "I'm listening."


True regret dulled my eyes. "Damien, I'm really sorry that I mentioned your orientation so publicly. I know you don't appreciate it. I don't expect you to forgive me right away." I smiled. "I just wanted to do the right thing by trying to fix the wrong."


Damien's features remained sharp. His green eyes narrowed. I exhaled. He wasn't going to forgive me so easily. I knew that.


"I'm so sorry. Again." I made to step away from him.


The color in his face seemed to lighten. His lips curled into a smile. "I forgive you." Damien's eyes sparkled brightly.


I exhaled. "Thank you, Damien. I know you didn't have to forgive me."


He rolled his eyes. "Just shut up and give me a hug."


Like a child, a smile broke out over my face. I danced to him and laughed right before being swept up into his embrace. When he released me, Damien hooked his arm through my own.


"What's wrong with you, Leslie? Why can't you see that he won't ever give you what I can?" That ugly, vile voice nearly split my ears in two.


As one, both Damien and I turned around. Steven's brown eyes widened as he recognized Damien, and he sneered.


"Well, obviously he won't be giving you anything I can. He'll be too busy screwing that faggot of a boyfriend."


I gasped. Damien ripped away from me and clenched his jaw. Steven laughed, obviously pleased with our reaction. A sweat broke out on Damien's forehead.


"Leslie, I have to leave," he muttered. "If I stay I don't know what I'll do."


"Call me," I whispered to him. "I'll beat him up for you."


Damien flashed me a half-hearted smile before turning and jogging away.


"That's right, Sparks. Leave. You'll be nothing compared to me, even if your ass-loving boyfriend decides to dump you."


Damien paused momentarily then continued walking. I watched him go. Damien was the one being insulted, yet I was the one shaking in rage. I turned back to Steven slowly, balling my hands up into fists.


"Don't you ever speak to Damien like that," I hissed.


"Oh, baby. Don't look at me that way. The sooner he realizes that he's going to be rejected in life, the sooner he'll get over himself."


When people are angry, they tend to do things they normally wouldn't. I was past the point of angry; maybe the words furious or enraged could properly explain how I felt. Before I knew what I was doing, I strode up to him and slapped him across the face.


"Don't you ever speak to him," I repeated. I raised my hand again.


Steven's face became scarlet, hiding the blotch on his cheek where I'd hit him. He snatched my wrist and flung me against the brick wall. "If you wanted to play dirty, you could have said so."


For the second time, his lips crashed into mine. My eyes widened. They searched the parking lot frantically. Where was everyone? Why wasn't anyone trying to help me? I gasped and bit his bottom lip. He broke away


"Arrgh! Bitch!"


I spit his blood from my mouth. Steven grabbed Mr. Night's coat. There was a tearing sound, and the buttons ripped from the cloth. He stared down at my outfit. The anger in his eyes faded; lust replaced his emotions.


"Were you afraid I wouldn't approve, Leslie?" he cooed. "Because I do." Steven tore at the jacket some more, revealing my outfit.


A hand shot out from nowhere, clasping onto Steven's shoulder. Mr. Night stood behind him. "You owe me a new jacket," he growled. Mr. Night flung him onto a car.


Steven scrambled up and attempted to run from him. Mr. Night shoved him into the wall, much like Steven had done to me.


"Get off of me, man!" Steven protested.


"If I ever see you touching her again without her permission, I'll have you suspended. Do you understand me?"


"Sure. Whatever." It seemed he was about to spit in Mr. Night's face.


"No. Not 'whatever.'" Mr. Night grabbed him by his shirt collar and jerked him toward me. "Apologize. Now."


Steven looked like he wanted to cry. "I love you, Leslie. I would never hurt you. I'm sorry."


Mr. Night's blue eyes flashed to me. They were blank. Not cold, simply blank.


I crossed my arms and looked down. "It's fine, Steven." I knew Steven would get me later. The hidden message in his eyes was clear to me. I was going to get it once Steven had the chance.


"It's not fine, Leslie." Mr. Night released Steven. "You're treading on thin ice, Steven. Be careful."


Steven shot him a glare and stalked off.

Breathing in deeply, I turned my face. Mr. Night stood before me; his hands hung loosely at his sides. I bit my lip and waited for a reprimand. An 'I-told-you-so' was the next thing he would say. I could feel it.


"Leslie?" Mr. Night gazed at me with concern.


"Yes, Mr. Night?" I wiped a tear from my eye. I hated looking so weak. Especially in front of him.


"Did he hurt you?"


"No."


"If he ever bothers you, come to me. Okay?" Mr. Night picked my bag up. He handed it to me.


My gaze snapped to his. "That's it?" I whispered.


Bewilderment donned on his handsome face. Somehow, the innocent expression of confusion made him even more attractive. "What are you talking about, Leslie?"


"You're not going to give me a lecture about how you were right and I was wrong? How I'm just a piece of trash who wants attention other than her ex-boyfriend?" A lump caught in my throat, preventing me from saying anymore.

Rest in Results...
Mr. Night stared at me. "Why would I ever do that?" His features hardened again. "Is this how that boy makes you feel?"
"I don't know what I feel, okay? Why do you care?"
He stepped toward me. "I care about you, Leslie. Why wouldn't I care?"

My lips trembled. I looked down at my feet. "No one ever has," I mumbled. The confession was inaudible, but the truth still hurt.

"Do you want to talk?" Mr. Night approached me.

I shook my head and wiped my eyes. "No, Mr. Night. Um...thank you for the concern. I'm sorry about your jacket." Without another word, I fled from the parking lot in search of Jennifer.

"Leslie!" Mr. Night tried to run after me.

My luck changed for the better, and Jennifer pulled up with her car. I jumped into the passenger seat. Buckling my seatbelt, I looked up as he motioned for us to stop. I gasped. Jennifer drove away, noticing my attempt for escape. When we were far enough away, I burst into tears and told Jennifer about the whole thing.

Part Three of Infatuation.