Safety At His Command

Following A Dream

William could not believe that his dream girl had been with him for that long by themselves, nor did he ever think they’d ever have a little secret as she called it, or, gods help him, her soft lips anywhere on his body. He felt like he was hallucinating and finding stairs in that state had been damn near impossible but she had run from him. Didn’t she know she needed a pass if she was going to even attempt to go to the next class?

He presumed this was not her usual endeavor and the very fact that she had been out with him made him feel all that more special. William silenced his hind brain, the bastard it was had already thrown his feelings into the hypothetical trash when it fed him the line about only being there for the note he pocketed.

“She kissed me,” he shot it down further. “No one just kisses someone.”

As much as he would have gladly stayed and sat out his version of cloud nine, he needed to see her again. He needed her to do it anywhere. The same place would suffice. But as he came down from his high, it became a life source to reach for.

She, however, fled without looking back.

Her name sat on his tongue, dying to call her back to him, but he knew better. If she was this afraid of being out of class, he wouldn’t threaten her well being by calling her name in an empty hallway.

William looked around the art department’s wing for a darkened classroom where he could snatch up a piece of scrap, the dirtier the better, and write out the time, date, and the help she managed to aid with being a… he had to think on that one. It was tricky to lie on behalf of himself, but she could be the wildcard that didn’t lie alongside him. It couldn’t be a material mess, paint or ink would need to be present on her and it was not. Her hands were clean and delicate and gods could he be so desperate to feel them on him again?

At the roll of his eyes he realized a bulb was missing from the tubes above them and therefore assumed she may have helped get a broom or kept the sight clear until someone swept it up for their oldest art teacher on the premises. It would be what she would do, right?

To be honest, he didn’t know what she would do and he was still dying to know if her kiss was just a thank you kiss or if it held the meaning he wanted to believe it did.

If this was how he would find out, he would see this through all the way to the end.

He would find out if she really liked him… he needed to.

On the way, William made sure he folded the note in half, making sure the corners lined up evenly before doing so, constantly pinching the crease so that it looked like a girl had acquired it. He then dropped it on the floor and stepped on it, dragging it through the dirt on the floor before picking it up again. A quick swipe at the over pollution of dust and hair had been a go to decoration of authenticity before handing the paper vote of confidence in himself back to whatever teacher he had to be delivered to by it. It would surely work for her too, especially if he said he saw him drop it.

Who wouldn’t believe him, he snorted at himself.

Plenty of people wouldn’t believe him but that didn’t mean they couldn’t believe her.

William hurried up to see where she had been off to, first checking the wing going towards the gym to see no one. He turned to check the history department and no one was there either. And then he turned towards the language department that housed only French and Spanish only to hear the Home Economics teacher lose her s**t.

“Mal! So glad you could join us!” the woman shouted as if she was going to be doing the honors of chopping the last student in the door out of her competition learning.

He hated the way that sounded. It was eerily similar to the way his father would get on his case and even though he couldn’t pass judgement on someone he didn’t take the time to know, he knew that lady was the biggest b***h from others who complained about her teaching style.

The woman literally thought she was on her own food challenge show and her students were the contestants, which some honestly thought was fun when they first started, but acting like some of the celebrities on the shows she mimicked was downright insulting to his own peers, which ultimately lead to kids dropping her class in search of study halls instead.

Whatever her deal was, no one was interested in taking her bullshit, but he was almost certain that his… well, Malorie, was taking it and the teacher was thriving off of every venomous word.

That had to be stopped.

And so William’s steps increased, hurtling him through the hallway at a pace he could maintain without running to her as that would be an act of dramatics he would gladly do if he didn't feel as though he was embarrassing her in the process.

When he reached the door, he grasped the knob with a fury that he should have kept in check but he couldn’t. His brow was furrowed, the ball of the knob within his tightening fist, and his eyes warning all in his sights that this was not acceptable. His gaze landed on some nobody freshman who looked down and away after looking at their new entrant. The second was Brian, of all people, and next to him was Malorie, who took him in. Her gaze found him and moved down his form and back up it as if she was categorizing this version of him for future use.

William wanted to smirk or to wink at her but the muscle underneath his eye twitched and he was ready to approach the woman that put his girl down like that, loudly, for any other classroom to hear.

“Mrs. Stevens,” he barked out instead of asking for her attention the appropriate way a student should, with respect.

Her head turned sharply to him, unable to help the student she was working with because of the tone he used.

“Malorie dropped this heading out of the art department,” he said unfolding the dirtied note and slapping it onto her desk.

“Oh? Is that so, Malorie?” she asked coolly, staring at the girl until William moved his form into her crewel gaze.

“It is,” he replied on her behalf. “A T12 shattered in Mr. Evan’s room while he was out for lunch and she offered to help Mrs. Lands keep the area clear while we cleaned it up, Ma’am,” he replied.

“Ah, you helped Mrs. Lands then?” she stared them down, waiting for their answer.

“That’s what I said,” he replied and missed the quiet way that Malorie went along with him.

“You realize she’s out on maternity leave?” Mrs Stevens replied knowingly.

“She is not,” William retorted. “You need to actually listen to your students and quite possibly care about your fellow staff mates.” William cleared his throat and delivered what Mrs. Stevens very clearly missed for the class, but more specifically for Malorie to see how well he had her if she would just give him a chance. “Mrs. Lands is an eighty-four year old woman. Nicest around and deserves the help she requires. Mrs. Lain is the one that’s out and she isn’t even an art teacher.”

His zing had the other students buzzing, unlike the ones that were in his father’s class, he had noticed how they laughed and couldn’t believe this guy was being so brazen with her.

“Anyway, her note is here if you need it,” he said then head to her desk to check her hands, his own reaching out to hers wordlessly.

He loved that she sat forward to give both of them to her and so he very carefully took the time to look over the tops and bottoms of her hands, hoping that it came off as far more intimate than just checking over the flesh of her hands. He didn’t want it to look like anything else to them, but he needed it to feel like an act of love even if neither of them could admit that was what it was.

William also absolutely loved the fact that she looked so content there. Like she was surprised he chased her, or surprised he tried past the stairwell.

And just as he feels himself leaning towards her fingers to carefully tend to them, he catches the way Brian rolls his eyes in the corner of his eye but he’s got her attention and her little hands in his again for the second time that day, within the same hour.