Even our lunchtime meetups were completely innocent. It didn’t matter that we were the only two in the room, I had made her a promise. As time went on, it became less and less clear if she was committed to never mentioning that aspect of our relationship when we were in school, or if she was genuinely trying to forget that moment ever happened and attempting to leave the past in the past.
So that meant more PDA. Johnny and I were still fine, and if Ms. Wagner asked I could always tell her that I had a talk with him and ‘he’s better about everything now.’ After all, that was provable if she watched him – Johnny wasn’t acting like the Johnny I described to her on that fateful day. It helped that that version of Johnny never existed, but, you know, what you don’t know can’t hurt you.
Speaking of ‘what you don’t know,’ the temptation to tell… well, brag to Johnny about what I got to do was incredible. It took a lot to constantly hold back, especially since we’d occasionally indulge each other in our fantasies, and I’d have to hold back on the details or eagerness or recanting what Amy and I actually got up to. So I settled on making out with him a little more often. And hey, I wasn’t into boys sexually that much, but making out with Johnny still had its perks, and plus, we were the cute high school couple, if I got a show of hands as to how many of us expected us to last, we’d get single digits, tops. Hell, one of those hands would probably be poor Johnny’s.
And Ms. Wagner wasn’t fooling anyone. If Johnny and I were being a little too raunchy and on display in her class, she could look down at her papers all she wanted, but I caught her taking little peeks. At one point, we had just finished a passionate kiss and I caught Ms. Wagner looking at me, and, feeling bold, I winked at her. I genuinely thought that was helping my case, at the time. Of course, afterwards she’d clear her throat and chastise us in her own ‘I’m the teacher’ way. I was too busy fantasizing about the other ways.
After a few weeks, I was close to giving in, whether that was accepting that she had moved on and being sad about it or formulating a plan to ask her as subtly as possible where we were at. I wasn’t sure which one it would be until it happened, though knowing me it was probably going to be the latter. Before I could arrive at such a conclusion, during a work period Ms. Wagner was passing out marked reports silently like she usually did – in her own signature way. A fully marked report, with a little post-it note telling you your grade and a summarized note for the future.
She got to me and placed my report down at me. When I saw the post-it on top of the report, I was downright confused.
40. F. Way too little understanding of the subject matter. Please see me after school.
I was more confused than angry or anything. I actually put a lot of effort into this report. A worried little voice in the back of my mind was telling me that it was because she had it out for me, that she was too ashamed of me or something, but I tried to keep it cool and look to see if she gave me someone else’s report.
I looked at the front page of my report and sure enough, my own name greeted me. I started flipping through the pages looking for an explanation and I realized the feedback and intricate points she wrote on my report were all positive.
Please see me after school. I smirked. Amy was quite the clever one. Even when asking me to meet up with her in writing, she could never be caught for this. At worst, she could explain away that she gave me someone else’s post-it. Still smirking, I looked up from my report to see that she was now at her desk, surveying the classroom. Our eyes met and my grin widened as I shook my head in disbelief at her. Her face was completely blank, and she shrugged and moved her eyebrows up once as if to say, ‘I made my point, you got my message.’ And I did.
***
I kept up the facade as well as she did. After school, I promptly marched up to her room with my report in hand. “I’m here about my report… the one that I failed. You said I should see you,” I shyly told her.
Ms. Wagner nodded. “Yes, thank you for coming. We’ll just wait until the other students are gone, then we’ll discuss further.” I nodded shyly and sat down. Most of the students left promptly, and one of the students stayed behind for a few minutes to ask Ms. Wagner a question or two, but eventually, it was just the two of us.
“Ooookay,” Ms. Wagner sighed, looking over all of her work and pretending to organize her thoughts. “Would you be so good as to get the door please, Mina?”
I nodded and got up to shut the door, half excited to see what she had to talk about, but also half nervous in case this was another ‘we need to talk’ moment. After shutting the door, I turned around, and was promptly pinned to the door by Ms. Wagner.
No, not Ms. Wagner, Amy. She pinned me to the door forcefully as she forced her mouth onto mine, kissing me deeply yet soundlessly. It took all of my strength not to let out a loud moan. As quickly as it began, it ended, with her releasing me then whispering for me to take a seat. She sat down at her desk, and I sat down at a random one facing her.
“You’ve been on my mind a lot, Amy,” I began, whispering although I didn’t know why. “I missed you.”
Amy gave me one of her trademark smirks. “We can’t talk much here, people are still in the halls,” she told me in a hushed voice, hence the whispering I guess. “I think it’s been too long since we went on a car ride.”
I looked around, a smile breaking onto my face. “I don’t suppose…” I trailed off, looking around.
Amy shook her head no defiantly. “Even after all of the students leave, there will be custodians. They empty the bins in all of the classrooms. Besides, I don’t want to do anything here. It’s too risky.”
I frowned, which got a confused chuckle from Amy. “What? Is my car not good enough for you?” she playfully whisper-asked.
“I mean, it’s kind of cramped. We could wait until after the custodians have gone home or something.”
She shook her head no again. “They can be here for up to three hours, us hanging around school that long would look suspicious. We also have hall monitors, although they’re mostly there for students…”
“Can’t you just… put a sign on your door?” I asked exasperatedly.
She smiled at me, shaking her head. “Why do you want so badly for us to do it here?”
Time to be bold. “Because what I want to do to you needs more room than just a cramped car seat.”
It was clear she wasn’t expecting that. At first, her eyebrows shot up, then her face reflected both playfulness and confusion, then she bit her lip, looking me up and down. Eventually, she shrugged and thought to herself for a second, then produced a marker and a piece of paper. In her most professional handwriting, she wrote on the paper – “MEETING IN PROGRESS, PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB.” She then got some tape and motioned for me to stay in my seat, opening the door to the classroom and sticking the new sign on the outside.