Invisible String: An Enemies to Lovers Teacher Spicy Contemporary Romance
Invisible String: Chapter 24

ICU – Phoebe Bridgers

The instant my tray hit the table, I hungrily shoveled food into my mouth, stomach growling in delight. It had been hours since I’d eaten properly, and despite sneaking a granola bar during a short break (which again I’d inhaled) I felt starved. Judging from the speed of the others eating around me, I wasn’t the only one in need of brain fuel.

I wasn’t sure how the other groups were faring up but our competition had been fierce. The morning consisted of back-to-back activities, first off a team building event, followed by a classic art heat where groups buzzed in their answers and the fastest won the points. We’d come second in that one. Then the activity before lunch had been a creative task, using whatever medium the group wanted, but there was a science twist to it. Each student had chosen a different medium, and all had turned out to be very impressive. We earned joint first place for that one, and I couldn’t have yelled louder when they did.

Scanning around the makeshift canteen, I searched for Ben and his group. They had been scheduled to have a free period before lunch, with their afternoon a little busier than ours before leading up to the final competition. I wondered for a moment how the students were holding up. It was a lot of pressure to put on them, in the full knowledge that if we didn’t win the group would be over.

Despite our success, I’d heard from the math group that they hadn’t done very well in their competition. Not last place by any means, but certainly enough to give some of the other schools an edge over us.

I spotted Ben across the room, a friendly smile on his face. It still struck me as unusual to see him smiling like that, instead of what had been his usual smirk or scowl. He’d kept it hidden away all this time, and I was partially grateful he did. He was irresistible when that smile lit up his face, I wouldn’t have been able to stay away for so long.

He was with Dr. Carlson, deep in conversation, obviously locked in a long needed catch up.

“Well I never, is that Olive Davis checking out the asshole Ben Bennett?” came a familiar voice from behind me. I twisted around, sandwich hanging out of my mouth, to replace Rosa Holland standing there, a grin spread wide across her beautiful face.

I jumped up, swallowing the rest of my food while trying not to choke, and reached out my arms to wrap around her tall body.

“Rosa! How are you?” My heart squeezed at the sight of my old friend, her usual long dark hair cut short, framing her full face.

“I’m good! But never mind me, have you heard anything since Wednesday?” she immediately asked, taking a seat beside me, her green eyes laser focused on me.

“I’ve not heard anything yet, but they said it would be a few weeks.”

She waved a hand at me. “The way I sold you, it’s almost guaranteed that they’ll offer you the job.”

I shot her a smile back, but inside I was screaming. Nothing was guaranteed. I’d had other teachers tell me the same thing about the vice principal job back home and look where that had ended up. It was tiring, being made all these tiny promises, letting yourself dream about the things you could do, the changes you’d made–all for it to fall flat and leave me feeling more lost and inadequate.

Besides, this had been a hard interview, and I’d almost thrown up with nerves before I took the call. And even if I got the job, I wasn’t sure how to feel.

It would be a great position, in a private school that didn’t have nearly the same budget restraints as my current role did. But the job would be more demanding, parents expecting a quality education since they were paying for it. Doubt cracked through me at the thought of the pressure alone. Was I so sure this was a good idea? A move away from everything I currently knew, and a new demanding role when I was barely holding it together in my current one?

“Han with you?” Rosa asked, pulling me from my overthinking.

“No, it’s just myself and some teachers from math.”

“And science, I see.” That grin only grew. “So, what finally got you two to see eye to eye?”

“Budget cuts,” I grumbled.

“Ah, nothing like a good funding cut to bring two people together,” Rosa said in mock admiration.

“Not that you’ve got that problem anymore,” I said, not mincing my words.

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky,” she shrugged, an air of cockiness around her. “Honestly, Ol, you don’t know what you are missing out on.”

“I have some idea.”

“You really don’t. It’s a different life here. Just imagine, endless supplies, limitless paper copying. Laptops, Olive, laptops that work! That are from this decade! And the air con–”

“Alright, you don’t need to rub it in!” I said, cutting her off.

“Well then, what will it take to get you to join us?”

What would it take? All year I’d been hearing stories about her new job from Hanna and what it was like to work for a private school, a school that got what it needed, could afford to give the students the quality of teaching they deserved. And while teaching wasn’t straight forward, at least it wasn’t a straight up dumpster fire. At least it was made a little bit easier by just having the supplies needed.

If I was being totally honest, hearing all her stories had been partially why she hadn’t heard from me in a while. Knowing how desperate things were just to keep an after school program going compared to hearing how nice her classrooms were, or which field trip they were all gearing up for–it didn’t exactly make me feel good. Of course I was happy for her, but knowing that kind of ease existed just made this job much more painful. She must have noticed my faltering in answering her question because she carried on.

“You know, I did hear that they had decided on somebody that had interviewed already for the role. It could be you.”

I grimaced. “Honestly, Rosa, I don’t think my chances are very good.”

She waved a hand to erase my doubts. “I doubt that very much, Olive. And there’s a rumor the vice is retiring soon. You know more responsibilities has never been my thing but I bet you could be in the running. Vice Principal Davis sounds pretty awesome.”

I fell silent, taking in everything she was saying. Did it sound awesome? Did it sound exactly like what I had been dreaming of? What I needed after everything this year? The vice job at my own school had felt like a desperate last attempt to keep my head above water. I’d convinced myself that getting the job was the only answer to everything feeling so impossible. But what if it wasn’t? And, what if the answer wasn’t teaching at all?

Without thinking, my gaze slid across the room, catching on Ben. He must have sensed it, because he caught my eye and sent a small smile my way. I tried to return it, before looking over at Rosa.

“We’ll see.”

This was it.

All we had worked for, came down to an hour in one room, facing off against three other schools, all for that grand prize. It would be enough to save the program, give us some breathing space, give these kids who had worked so hard something to show for it other than an entry on their college application.

We sat in a darkened room facing the stage, four tables set up with the teams from the schools battling through the questions. They varied across science, math and arts, and had been growing in difficulty since the kickoff. Even though I would have struggled with a lot of these answers, the teams were able to answer them, with our group answering their fair share too.

It was a battle royale. And we were dead in the water if we didn’t win.

We had entered the competition in third place, which had been a bit of a disappointment but out of all the schools in attendance, I was grateful we had made the cut.

Then our project results came through.

First place.

My heart stopped dead in my chest. I was barely able to contain tears at the pride. The points boost kicked us up to second place in the standings–a close second, with only a few points difference between us and the lead. To know all that work had paid off, it had done a lot to lift the heavy weight that had been resting on my chest all day. Not enough to lift it completely, but enough to feel some relief, some hope for the first time all day.

I played with that small jewel set into the gold ring on my finger, feeling over the ridges of the gem. I closed my eyes for a second, still able to picture her perfectly: her warm smile; her faint laugh lines crinkling; those green eyes, the ones that matched mine, filled with love always–even if she was criticizing my piano playing. She would be so proud. So proud we made it this far, that we fought to save this group. Maybe I should be proud of what we’d accomplished too.

“The answer is 3468.” A familiar voice rang from the speakers, and I looked to the stage to see one of our students answering yet another question.

“Correct, five points awarded!” the presenter cried, and the group around me broke out into gleeful applause. It was hard to fight the smile that crept onto my face, and I looked to Ben who was standing at the side of the stage, his eyes glued to the students as the presenter launched into the next question; the team began scribbling down their answers.

The look on his face told me he was feeling it too, seeing the hope grow, the anticipation of the win. He knew it too, how close this must be now, to actually pulling this off. I could barely breathe as the other team, our main rivals, answered the question, and silence spread over the crowd as we waited to replace out if it was right.

“Incorrect. Does another team want to steal?”

Immediately, it felt like everyone on stage leapt from their seats to press the buzzer, and our team won out, their badge lighting up as the presenter turned to receive their answer.

“Transfiguration was painted by Raphael in 1520,” Sophia answered, a confident edge clear in her voice.

It took all my self-control not to leap from my seat in early celebration. It was right. Another point awarded, and with a quick glance to the leaderboard I saw our team move up in the rankings, right next to the other group. Joint first place. I could barely take it anymore.

“Ladies and gentlemen, with our last question it looks like we have a tie!” The presenter announced, and the crowd broke out into cheers. He looked a bit lost, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do in the event of a tie. Were we going to split the prize? Half the money was certainly better than none of the money, and despite the confidence I had in the group, the sureness that if we were given another question we’d have a decent shot at getting the answer right, it would be hard to turn down the offer. “Which means, after a short break, we will return with a tie break question. I can excuse the other two teams, and I thank you for your effort here today.”

The crowd clapped politely as the third and fourth place teams left the stage, the two remaining teams looking excited among themselves. Ben beamed at our team as he walked on stage to see them.

“I better get up there,” I said, turning to one of the math teachers who sat beside me.

She smiled brightly. “No problem, I’ll watch over here.”

I slipped into the aisle and made my way up onto the stage. The crowd was brimming with the excitement of a tie break, and one quick glance at our opposition told me they were in crisis mode, all huddled around their table, plotting.

“How’s everyone feeling? Congrats on the tie!” I smiled as I reached our group, and the nervous smiles that were returned told me everything I needed to know. I did my best to hide my own nerves, ringing my hands together to hide the shaking. “You’ve done so well getting to this point, I know whatever question comes up, you’ll smash it!”

“We’re hoping it isn’t math–they’ve answered most of those questions so far, and quicker than even I could manage to get an answer,” Jon, one of Ben’s best Mathletes answered, running his fingers through his hair. A few others in the group murmured in agreement.

“They’ve also got a few wrong, so maybe speed isn’t always their friend,” Sophia said, obviously trying to comfort the group.

“Exactly,” Ben agreed. “Look, even if it’s a math question, we’ve got a decent shot here.”

His confidence helped my own, cementing the fact that we had an honest chance of this, of bringing home that prize.

I could barely handle the tension any longer, the cracks appearing as the smile on my face started to feel forced. It would come down to one single question. An invisible band tightened around my chest, my lungs barely able to move and my heart pounding hard against my ribs.

The discussions between the students faded out, the shaking in my hands growing more and more uncontrolled. I felt faint. I needed to sit, needed a moment to breathe, needed to black out for the next ten minutes instead of having to sit through this stress.

I registered squeezing on my hand, and I looked down to see Ben’s hand holding mine, so lightly it was barely there but enough to pull me from my spiral.

“We can do this,” he said, his gaze on mine, his face clear of any doubt, any concern. He swallowed, tilting his head to where the group of students were sitting. “I swear, Jon was answering the questions quicker than I was.”

Jon piped up with a huge grin, “Damn right I was.”

His teammates groaned, giving him a little push at his confidence. And even though I believed what he was saying, it was Ben’s touch, his hand in mine, that did the most to soothe my nerves.

“It’s all going to be fine,” I confirmed, squeezing back, just as the presenter returned to his podium.

“Everyone, if you could please retake your seats, we can continue.”

“Good luck!” I smiled, looking at our group who were now nervously sitting down back at their chairs. I followed Ben to the side of the stage and took up a spot next to him.

“Deep breaths,” he reminded, leaning down to murmur the words in my ear, the heat of his breath sending chills down my spine. In the shadows of the side of the stage, he’d moved closer to me, his body pressed up against my side. I leaned into his chest, almost losing all my strength to stand on my own.

“One question and it will all be over,” I replied, and his head rested on mine. My eyes closed, trying to focus on keeping my breathing deep and equal. I was so nervous I felt like I could throw up, my stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“One question, and we will have won this thing,” he said.

One question. One answer… and everything could be ruined.

The lights went down on the stage, the crowd plunged into dramatic darkness as the screen on the stage lit up.

“Teams, for the grand prize, please complete the equation you see on the screen,” the presenter said.

Immediately, everyone’s heads whipped around to look at the complex equation. Ben swore under his breath at the sight of it, a reaction I probably wasn’t supposed to hear. I even heard some gasps from the crowd before a deadly silence fell over the room, only broken by the quick scribbles of pencil on paper from the teams, locked in a race to replace the correct solution.

Moments passed, and the tension was almost unbearable. With every passing moment, my panic built up and up, clambering up my throat, pulling on my chest, sending wave after wave of nausea crashing into me.

And then cutting through the silence, a buzzer.

I could barely look, barely stand to replace out which team had won the race.

“It’s us, “ he breathed, and I opened my eyes. Jon stood up out of his seat and leaned over the table, hand still pressed on the buzzer. He had paused, skin sickly pale, eyes wide.

“Yes, do you have the answer?” the presenter asked. All eyes, including those of the other team with the exception of one older student who was still scribbling viciously, were glued to Jon. He swallowed, glancing at the paper in front of him.

“Is the answer…” he trailed off, then somehow managed to collect himself. “Is the answer X = 5.67?”

A pause. An infinite silence. The tension. The grip this moment had. I didn’t think a single person in the room was breathing. Then, the presenter spoke.

And everything changed.

“Incorrect.”

Another buzzer ripped through the air. The opposition. The older boy who’d still been working.

“Yes,” said the presenter, and an endless silence fell over the room. I didn’t have time to pray, time to think.

“X = 5.67m^2,” the boy said.

“Correct! We have a winner!” The presenter cried, and cheers broke out around the room.

We had lost. Lost the competition. Lost the funding. Lost the program.

It was all over.

Done.