Invisible String: An Enemies to Lovers Teacher Spicy Contemporary Romance
Invisible String: Chapter 10

All My Ghosts – Lizzie McAlpine

Monday was the Monday to end all Mondays.

Not one but two teachers were off sick. I had to cover two classes at the same time during second period, which meant fifty teenagers must’ve been hitting their caffeine peak of the day on my watch–not to mention a student threw up in the corner of one classroom. And worst of all, the projector had stopped working.

Like I said, the Monday to end all Mondays.

I’d stayed in the classroom over lunch, finally taking a moment to myself to try and replace some peace in this day. In between deep diving into influencer food porn and searching for a new shampoo, I had pulled up the tab for the vice principal position on the school’s website, and stared lazily at my half filled out application. I’d scrolled through the questions, looking at my half-assed responses before remembering that the broken projector needed fixing. Not that it was just an excuse to procrastinate the application any further.

I was perched on top of a semi steady desk, the front right foot just slightly shorter than all the others, locked in battle with the aforementioned unruly projector and all its snaking wires when he found me.

“Is any of this safe?” Ben’s voice was a velvet roll of seduction with a heavy hint at the smirk I knew was already on his lips as he paused in the doorway of the empty classroom.

I turned to look at him, just a quick glance over my shoulder, replaceing that he was leaning against the door frame, hands in his front pockets. Fuck, he looked hot.

Underneath my weight, the table jolted suddenly, and I tensed in surprise. Refusing to give him any more satisfaction, I turned my focus back to the projector, willing myself to not look at him again, at least for a moment more before I pathetically caved.

I didn’t have the time or energy for Ben today.

He’d already taken up far too much of my attention for something that was supposed to be a distraction. I’d spent Saturday night trying to stop myself recalling the finer details of the night before. The feel of his skin dragging against mine, his tongue pressed hungrily against me, the way he’d gripped my hips, his thumbs pressed into my skin, helping me keep pace as I rode him, even when I felt myself falling to pieces, he kept me going and going and right into the next orgasm.

Store that memory away for later and think of something else, Olive.

“If I could replace the ladder I would, but like everything in this department it’s gone missing.” I furiously pulled cables out of the projector and jammed them back in, mentally begging the projector to burst into life.

“What are you doing?” he asked, stepping closer. “That’s the power cable! What are you even trying to accomplish?”

“I’m trying to fix it.” My teeth were gritted as I abandoned the cables and instead fiddled with the various buttons on the projector. My fingers were barely able to reach them as I rose to the edge of my toes.

“It looks like you’re trying to break it.”

I fought the urge to break him.

“If I was trying to break it, it would be nothing but tiny pieces of plastic by now.” I sighed and flopped my arms to my sides, exhausted and aching from all the upwards stretching. Finally, my head rolled to the side, giving into the urge, and found his gaze on me, a soft smile on his lips.

Did he think about it too?

My fingers grazed the bottom edge of my dress, my cheeks burned as I realized how short it would’ve been with my arms raised. It had been on the edge of school appropriate, so thankfully I’d paired it with dark black tights.

“Come down from the table, Olive, and explain the problem to me.”

I looked at him as it dawned on me that this was the first time I’d been taller than him, no matter how ever so slightly. I’d been his height on Friday, when he’d pressed me up against his wall. Stared right into those eyes that were again fixed on me. I had to stop thinking about it before it grew too obvious.

“Oh, are you an IT expert now?”

Ben smiled brightly in response and my heart stuttered uncontrollably. That was one response we had to stop before it got out of hand. Memories of Friday night played in my mind. He had smiled then too, but that could’ve just been the pizza.

“I prefer genius, but I’ll take any compliment from you I can get.”

He raised his hand and I gawked at it awkwardly for a moment before realizing he was helping me down. My sneakers thudded softly as I hit the ground, thankful to be back on solid ground again.

Time paused as I realized how close our bodies were. I felt my body almost being pulled into his but my feet managed to steady themselves just in time. I practically hopped one step backwards, the space more than necessary.

“It isn’t connecting to the laptop.” My words were like a bucket of cold water. “I did get it working, but the screen was backwards–all swapped around, you know?” I explained as he paused, wide eyed for a flash, before he pulled himself together; his shoulders tightening, his face changing. One moment frozen, then next he reached up and started to inspect the projector. He poked one single button and the screen flashed blue behind me. He looked back at me.

“Go turn on the laptop,” he said with a slight bob of his head, his arm still raised to the button.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “It’s on already.”

“Just give the mouse a shake.”

I rolled my eyes at his insistence but followed his instructions; walked over to the desk and moved the mouse an inch. The laptop burst into life, and so did the projector.

If people could win smugness awards, Ben would’ve won right there and then, his smile so wide and warm, like he was impressing even himself. It took more effort than necessary to not care about that look on him, to ignore how freaking cute he looked.

As quickly as it had arrived, the warmth in his expression faded away, his gaze cast behind me, his face suddenly turning stony. I turned, immediately seeing the problem that was now displayed in crisp 1080px, slashed across the classroom wall. A stark reminder to both of us why we had agreed to one night and one night only

My vice principal application.

We hadn’t spoken about the position once. I’d known he was going for it, but it was the realization I’d seen settle on Ben’s face when the screen confirmed his own suspicions about me. We were going for the same job.

And I knew, knew I couldn’t lose. I couldn’t handle things staying like this, stagnant and hopeless and so exhausting. I needed this job. It was the answer, but as much as he was a delicious distraction, he also stood directly in front of me for the job.

“I was thinking we should join our groups together today to explain the situation.” The words fell out of my mouth as I reached for the laptop, pushing down the screen with my fingertips. The screen automatically turned off, the glow disappearing and the classroom turning dim.

There was a considered silence, a moment where he took time to adjust, to process, and replace his footing in this altered state.

He cleared his throat. “It’s worth a shot. They might have better fundraising ideas than us.”

I shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the niggling pull towards him. Instead I forced an awkward smile.

“Room 4B, yeah?”

He nodded, hearing the words for what they were. Edging closer to the door, he dipped his head, his lips still smiling, albeit with considerably less sunshine at my dismissal.

“See you there,” he added a wave as he disappeared out of the classroom, lingering for a moment before stepping outside, heading across the hall into his own room.

The after school class had managed to get themselves all set up, each of them picking something that had caught their attention in the beautiful afternoon sunlight that was shining brightly. There were about seven students in total, and I was still trying to convince some of the new students to join the club. Last year had been a massive success with fifteen, and a few who even turned out to be really talented. None had gone on to study art but that’s besides the point. It was more that they had found something they loved to do, an outlet where they could fill up with whatever they needed that day. Not quite art therapy, but a way to clear their minds after a busy day. I was forever grateful I had been able to give them that for some time at least.

But soon the time came to a close, the door swung open to reveal Ben, his eyes searching around the room until he finally spotted me. If I’d not known any better, I might have sworn that he smothered a small smile before beckoning me over with a wave of his hand. I sigh, before marching over.

“Do you think we should tell them together?” he asked, brows furrowing together. I was immediately thankful that he had suggested it. He was cold but at least he wouldn’t cry as he told them what was happening. I, on the other hand, could already feel the tears welling.

“Sure, do you want to bring your group in here?”

With a quick nod of his head, he stands aside and students begin to pile into the room. I guess he had already decided this was the most likely scenario.

“Everyone, can you gather over here? We have a quick announcement before we finish up for the day,” I called, catching my students’ attention. We gathered in a circle, and Ben began to speak, my heart deep in my stomach the entire time.

“So guys, I’m really sorry but we’ve been informed by Mr. Wright the funding for both these clubs has been cut.”

I watched the look on Ben’s face as he spoke, the slip from professional teacher to regret. Looks of disappointment immediately washed over the students faces, my group looking to me for confirmation. I nodded my head sadly, the squeeze in my chest growing stronger.

“We have enough funding to keep us going until the holidays, but after that I’m afraid if we can’t replace another source of income, there’s no way we can continue.”

I kept my hands in tight fists, and with each wave of sadness, pulled them tighter and tighter until my fingers hurt and knuckles felt sprained. But the slight pain was a distraction from falling apart in front of these kids. Even when the students began to pitch ideas around, that dark cloud just felt heavier. Their suggestions were mostly about potential competitions or ways to raise enough money, things we had mostly already done over the years with little to no success, or had already been shot down by Rob.

This had been coming for years. It was only the final nail in the coffin.

“That’s it for today anyway guys, good work everyone. If you have any other ideas or questions, please feel free to take them to Ms. Davis or myself–we’re open to all your suggestions,” Ben concluded, and the group broke up to gather their things. A couple of the students, seniors Sophia and Ashley approached me. They had been my star students since I’d been teaching them, and we’d formed a little bond over the years.

“We know you’ll figure it out, Ms. Davis,” Sophia said, her voice hopeful, “You always do,”

“I’ll do my best, girls, I promise,” I said, forcing a smile to my lips, trying to comfort them. As they walked back over to collect their things, I noticed Ben staring at me again, a look I couldn’t recognize on his features. As soon as I looked at him, he looked away his attention returning to a group of the matheletes in front of him.

I quickly gathered my things together and left, walking past the janitor waiting patiently at the door. Quietly, I thanked him for his work, a small nod of his head in reply was enough before I left, heading straight for my car.

I slid into the driver’s side, exhausted. Limbs heavy and head sore, that sharp tingle at the back I get when I’ve spent too much time staring at a screen. And not just tired, but exhausted. Exhausted from being so busy in a school that would not let up, from a day that had been plagued with disaster after disaster and how was it still only Monday?

What was I doing? How was I doing it? And why did it feel like I lost a little bit more every time I came out? I used to be happy here, I was sure of it. I took a moment to try and let myself feel it for a moment; to sink into that heavy exhaustion, to give in for a second.

How was it I knew I needed to cut myself some slack at the same time I was telling myself I wasn’t doing enough?

Why was this group so hard to let go of? Why was it important when it made me feel like this? This burning resentment, this total lack of adequacy to do this or any task ever in the history of the world. It would be so easy to let it slip away–but what would I have left?

I was stuck in indecision, slamming between the rock and the hard place. Mom would have known what to do. A better teacher would know, would have the solution immediately to hand, or at least have the emotional distance to accept when things were over.

I still didn’t have any answers when I pulled out of the parking lot, that lingering storm cloud feeling a little bit grayer.