I’d Have To Think About It – Leith Ross
only have one month to prepare,” Ashley grimaced, finishing up her presentation.
She had approached me earlier in the week with a rough outline of her plan: a competition she’d discovered aimed at promoting the combining of arts and more traditional STEM classes like math and science together, with the aim of bringing more attention to the importance of arts and reducing the underfunding of the subject.
It was a lot of work, starting with a qualifying round for which we had to send in a group project showing how arts and the STEM subjects could work together to create something new. If it was a success, then we could move onto the second round which was held a few hours away over a single day. This part of the competition was a serious challenge, including trivia rounds on all aspects of the STEM subjects and art, as well as problem solving challenges and mini group projects. It sounded intense and impossible with such a small time to get prepared. But the prize made it so worth it: $10,000 to help develop and support the school’s combined STEAM subjects. It would be more than enough to save us from the looming ax.
The biggest problem, however? The conference was over three hours away which would turn it into a full field trip–something we were going to need a lot of help with.
I looked over at Ben, who was only hearing the plan for the first time. I hadn’t had a chance to speak to him about it until now with classes keeping us apart.
Things were… different since last Friday night. He’d smile from his classroom when we’d catch each other looking across at each other or nod his head to say hi when we passed each other in the hall. Little acknowledgements that I existed, that we were friends now.
Or maybe not friends, but finally after years of war and battle, it seemed like we’d truly found a place where we could work together. And while I still had reservations about working to save this group, they weren’t about him personally anymore.
I’d finally managed to pull together my application for the vice principal job, and despite every line I’d written under accomplishments feeling a little like a twisted truth, I felt like it painted a fairly impressive view of me. Enough, hopefully, to help them ignore the fact I wasn’t in the ideal subject for the role, despite having started some of the training for a higher role last year, before Mom. And this competition, I hadn’t decided yet if it would help or hinder. Certainly it would look good for me, but it would also help Ben score extra points.
He stood beside me, looked across Ashley and Nathan, a student who was part of his Mathletes, and began to fire necessary questions at them. Nathan had done the presentation with Ashley. I had initially assumed she’d reached out to him as a representative from the other side of the room, but after watching them together, it felt like there was more going on. My little teacher’s heart squeezed as I caught the way he looked at her when she was speaking. We’d always have bets going on in the teacher’s lounge about who seemed likely to get together. Sometimes, when I was feeling bitter about love, it was a good reminder to see it starting out right in front of you.
And now finally, we had something exciting to work towards. The room buzzed as students discussed some ideas among themselves. Almost everyone in our groups had shown up.
“Do you know if there’s any entry fee to the competition? Any extra costs that go along with the application?” Ben asked Ashley, picking up the answer to the question.
“No, it’s all free. The entire thing has a list of tech and creative sponsors behind it so it’s really well funded.”
“And how many students are allowed to take part in the final round?”
It was Nathan’s turn to answer this time. “It’s a full day of different types of quizzes and competition so we are allowed to enter a maximum of four teams of five. At the end, they will add up all our final scores and the top two teams battle it out in one last competition. Our entry project is also counted.”
“That’s going to mean taking a school bus.” Ben ran a hand through his hair, obviously trying to judge the cost to the school on the entire thing.
I already knew we were going to have an upward battle with Rob on this. He had been completely serious about the budget warning he had given at the start of the year. Already some of the departments had reported issues with trying to order some supplies for their classes. The money this competition could offer us felt huge, but in the end, it would probably end up being spent on things that were completely necessary, rather than anything nice and shiny.
“It looks like they can help with funding for transportation.” I looked down at the handout that had been passed around before the presentation. The list of sponsors was on the reverse, and I gawked at some of the big names that were involved. This was insane, and even just taking part in this competition would be exciting on its own. There was a buzz around our combined group at the possibility of a trip away from home, and the chance to do something fun for a change.
Maybe I needed this more than anyone else. A break from doing repetitive tasks, from feeling the same way. This could give me everything I needed to prove I wasn’t a failure, that I could find a solution and see it through.
Save the clubs, save myself.
“We’ll need to get help from parents, they won’t let us take twenty students without more hands,” Ben said, finally looking over at me. His head was dipped ever so slightly, his eyes turning soft on me.
My voice came out croaky, my throat suddenly turning incredibly dry under his glance. “I think we could drum up some support. Plus with some of these sponsors, a win would certainly look good on college applications. And I’m sure some teachers would be willing to help too.”
He grunted a response, before turning back to Ashley and Nathan. “Do you have any ideas for the first project? The entry?”
Finally, an exciting question. Technology and art, all rolled together. Even if I had hated math, this was still a cool concept. The room buzzed as students discussed some ideas among themselves. Almost everyone in our groups had shown up to discuss the presentation–I had a sneaking suspicion Ashley had already gone around and told them about the competition to give them all time to drum up ideas.
I tried to remind myself this was proof that this was important to them. This was teenagers sticking around to help out at school. When else had that ever happened? The thought, however, still didn’t help to ease the uncomfortable knot in my stomach.
“What about something with photography?” I suggested, not quite sure where the thought had come from but finding myself suggesting it anyway. Ben looked at me, his eyebrows pressed together in question as his body stiffened ever so slightly. I carried on, trying not to be dismayed by his awkwardness. “It combines technology with art, as well as chemicals with the development process. We’d have to get our hands on some old film, but I know we have some old cameras stored somewhere around the school. We used to run photography classes–I remember from when I was in school–and I found them a year ago when I was doing some cleaning. And the chemicals I’m sure we would be able to ‘borrow’ from the chemistry department, that would be fairly simple.”
Ben’s handsome face remained stony, not giving anything anyway, so I pressed on, my brain already putting the images together, seeing the potential project fall into place.
“We even had an old development room for the photos. It’s currently being used as storage, but it still has all the old kit. I’m sure if we moved a few dozen boxes we would be able to use it properly again. It could be a lot of fun.”
He shifted on his feet, his lips pressing together as he thought it over. His silence made me nervous, the idea turning sour as I myself considered it. It was a good idea: we could touch on both elements while not using up any extra costs we couldn’t afford. I could feel my old defenses coming back up, that old wall he’d slowly dismantled brick by brick building itself up.
“I think we could do better than that,” he said, his tone brittle and a little cold. He turned away from me, opening his mouth to talk to the group again. I reacted before I had time to think about it, too used to having my ideas shot down by him, too used to being told ‘no’ despite it being a good idea.
“Like you have a better suggestion.” The snipped words fell out of my mouth. My voice had been quiet, barely over my breath, but the room had reached an uncomfortable lull just as I spoke. A silence fell over the students, and my cheeks burned as I instantly realized how rude that sounded.
I barely managed to look up at Ben, shame building and building as the pit in my stomach grew heavier. His expression hadn’t changed from the hard look he had when I was explaining the idea, but there was something else to it, a look in his eyes that held a little hurt, a little bit taken back from my uncalled outburst.
Swallowing, I tried to remove the lump that had appeared in my throat before speaking, voice as small as I felt. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to be so defensive.”
He stared at me for a moment, his eyes stuck on mine. I tried to read him, tried to figure out if he’d taken it personally, or if he’d understood how terrible I was feeling. Under his gaze, I wanted to disappear, to slip into oblivion and escape this desperately hopeless feeling. He nodded at me, silently accepting my apology without saying so much as a word.
That somehow made me feel worse.
“I think using photography is a good idea, but maybe we can do a little better with the science element of it,” Nathan said, breaking through the awkwardness that had momentarily fallen over the room. “Maybe give us the week to think of ideas, and we can decide next Wednesday.”
“Don’t forget about the deadline, we don’t want to run out of time,” Ben warned, the sound of his teacher’s tone doing little to sooth the nausea that was washing over me, churning my stomach full of nerves.
“But there’s no point in worrying about the deadline if we don’t have a good enough idea to get in,” Ashley reminded, the group murmuring around her in agreement.
I took a deep breath, trying to move past that sick feeling, before saying, “I’m sure if we all pull together we can get any project finished in time, and in the meantime, we can start revising and practicing for the competition section.”
“We’ve got to get all this approved first,” Ben said, tilting his head towards me. His gaze was hard, giving absolutely nothing away. I tried reminding myself that I was the one who had been unreasonable to him, allowing myself to take a beat and swallow my frustrations before replying.
“I’m sure we can convince them, especially with all the funding available.” I forced a smile to my lips, trying to keep it light–but failing. Even with the funding, Rob could say no. He might have absolutely no interest in saving the group, especially if he’d made up his mind about giving it the ax.
I hated that this was at his mercy. He was a reasonable guy, a friend almost, but he was also a professional, and he would have to put the needs of the school ahead of this group. I understood that fact, I really did. But why couldn’t this group be important too?
“We can arrange a meeting with the principal as soon as possible, and in the meantime, we can assign revision to you all after our next classes,” Ben said, addressing the group before looking to me for confirmation.
I nodded in response, mentally making a list of all the art history books I had available at home. The school library would have a few, but most of the references would be ancient.
“Meanwhile, if anybody has any question or ideas, please feel free to come see myself or Mr. Bennett,” I smiled, the group murmuring in agreement before grabbing their belongings and slowly shuffling out of the classroom.
A few students approached me, expressing excitement over the idea of the tournament. Some even had a few ideas for the project that I encouraged them to keep mulling over. The idea had to be perfect to give us the best chance, and we were entirely capable of coming up with something that could blow the competition out of the water. Ben had been right about the photography idea. We could do better, could come up with something more unique that reflected the science element of the project more than just developing our own photographs would show.
And as much as I hated admitting he was right, I hated the next part even more. I needed to apologize again.
The way he’d looked at me was so closed off, giving me nothing, but a quick glance around the room told me there was no sign of him in the classroom. I quickly grabbed my own belongings from the front of the room, before sticking my head out of the doorway and into the corridor. It was there I saw him, already halfway down the long hall, walking practically at breakneck speed.
“Hey! Wait up!” I shouted, heading towards him, trying to break out into a desperate run but struggling with the weight of my overfilled backpack which had been stuffed full of homework still needing graded, as well as some art history books I’d taken in for reference in today’s class.
He either didn’t hear me or flat out ignored me and continued to walk down the corridor, the distance between us growing. I contemplated giving up entirely, and leaving him alone. He clearly didn’t want to talk to me, and maybe that was for the best. All those times he had pissed me off and all I’d wanted was to be left alone, maybe he needed time to process, time to see that I hadn’t meant to be so snippy before, time to see that I was sorry.
But to be honest, in the end, I was glad he had never left me alone. Sure, he’d been annoying and arrogant and almost definitely self-serving. But when he had a chance to explain himself, I’d started to understand, learning a little bit more about him every time. Slowly, around him, things were starting to feel… better
“Ben! Wait, we need to talk!” I shouted, my voice echoing around the almost empty halls. It was after school time, so thankfully there were no classes in session, but there were still some students from our groups making their way to the nearest exit. I ignored their surprised looks as I yelled his first name, trying to not make a big deal of it.
This time he stopped, pausing for a moment before turning around, that eyebrow of his twitched upwards. I’d never been so grateful to see that usual look on his face, the one that used to make me want to roll my eyes at him and ready myself for a fight–but in that moment, I was just happy he was looking at me at all.
I sped up, not sparing a second thought to my heart that was hammering away; whether it was from the brief run or the worry, I wasn’t sure. Finally, the space between us closed, and he stood there, minor annoyance creasing his features. Had he always looked this attractive while annoyed?
“What is it, Olive? I’ve got somewhere I need to be,” he practically sighed, his head leaning to the side while his tone was tired and exasperated. He looked how I felt: tired, exhausted almost. So much so I began to wonder how I’d missed the dark rings around his eyes, the slight paleness to his skin. Was he okay?
“I wanted to apologize for back there. I didn’t mean to snipe at you, and it was unprofessional, and I…” His eyes narrowed at me, causing me to lose my train of thought for a moment. “I got defensive, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
At first he didn’t say anything, just tilted his head down to the floor, reaching up and awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, so I kept going.
“I also wanted to thank you for Friday.”
“Thank me?” he spluttered, his face twisting in confusion as he looked at me, eyebrows pressed together.
“Not for the…” I motioned, my arms flailing around the air instead of stating exactly what I meant. Flashes of two bodies pressed together filled my head. The memory of how soft his skin had felt was first, then I remembered how gentle his lips had been pressed against the sensitive skin of my throat before they worked their way down my body, finding my peaked nipple and biting, playfully at first, then hard enough to pull an uncontrolled hiss from between my lips.
I swallowed, pushing the memory to the back of my mind again. We both knew what I was trying to refer to, I didn’t need to say the words.
“For finding me, for helping me calm down after the…” I trailed off again, my chest restricting slightly at the admission, at the acceptance for what it had been. “After the panic attack.”
I’d been alone, outside, crying and losing my mind. But he’d found me, distracted me, fed me and kept me safe. We both hadn’t expected to end up where we did, twisted in his sheets–the memory of that night still playing over and over in my head late at night–but the fact he’d come after me, I’d realized I’d never actually thanked him.
“It’s okay, anyone could’ve helped you,” he said with a shrug, his shoulder slumping slightly as concern was soft in those gorgeous eyes.
I fought the strange and unfamiliar urge to close the gap between us, to wrap my arms around his broad chest and squeeze, to take in a deep breath of that now familiar and strangely comforting smell of pine and fresh cotton, to press my body against his and feel his warmth. Instead I kept my feet planted where I stood, fighting that pull into his body.
“But you did.” My voice rang clearly around the now empty hall. “And I never said it at the time, but thank you.”
The gaze that trailed over me was soft, the hazel of his eyes turning dark like melted chocolate, the concern still there. His lips parted, opening slightly before pressing closed again. As if questions were burning him to be asked, to be answered. Thankfully, he pushed them away, instead taking me by surprise when he spoke by changing the subject.
“I’m not mad about earlier… but I’m not sure we should work together.” He kept that softness, despite the words, despite the confusion that flashed through me as I processed them.
“But you were the one to suggest it in the first place.”
“I know… but you’ve made some good points. You know I’m not easy to work with.” He shrugged, head hung slightly. “And you clearly still have issues with me.”
“I do not.” I crossed my arms tightly, frustration surging higher as he sneakily raised an eyebrow, instantly making me unwrap my arms, forcing them to my sides.
“You sound awfully defensive for somebody who doesn’t have issues.”
“I’m… I’m still learning to be friends with you.” I still felt pretty terrible for my little outburst from before, there wasn’t any excuse. We’d been at odds for years, being on alert around him was second nature. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be friendly.”
He sighed again, the exhausted breath heavy. “It feels like it’s a matter of time before we find something else to fight about.”
“Well if you ask me, we’re on track for one right now,” I countered. “Those kids are counting on us now. They all stuck back to listen and help us save this group. They’ve come up with this amazing opportunity after we asked them to and now you want to bail on them?”
“I think it would be better if one of us worked with the group. I could ask one of the other teachers or –”
“No or. No other teacher.” I shook my head, determined to make this work, to make him stay. “I don’t think I can do this without you. And I’m the only art teacher who takes chances with these kids, but I have absolutely no idea what to do on the science or math side. There’s no replacement for you. You’re tough on those kids and they still come back every week? Either they love being tortured with difficult equations or they genuinely enjoy your time and effort in that group.” The compliment was easy because it was true, his gaze unwavering as I continued, the air between us thick. “Look, I’m really sorry for snapping at you earlier, especially if that’s what caused this. But those kids need you. I…”
I trailed off, my lips freezing in place as the confession rattled around me, my logical brain kicking in, thinking over the words I had caught myself from saying. My body went rigid, hands curling inwards so my nails pressed into my palms, not painfully but enough to ground me. Enough to keep myself from going too far into these feelings.
“I need you.” The words felt resolved, final. And I wasn’t sure if he knew how I meant them. Not only in the way I needed him, his specific support to give us the best chance of winning, but also to help me, like he had last Friday.
I felt like broken China that had been carefully put back together and arranged in the correct pattern, but was being held together with sticky tape that was losing its stickiness with every day that passed. Together, functional–but the cracks remained, just waiting for another tumble, another fall, and I’d be nothing but pieces scattered on the floor.
On Friday, the pieces would’ve fallen apart if it wasn’t for him. He gave me time, and distraction enough to forget about everything. Without him, working on this project would easily break me.
His eyes locked on mine, the lighter brown flakes lit up like molten gold. He opened his mouth to speak but I continued before he had a chance to say anything. “Mostly because I’ll literally die if I have to teach math. Like, lie down and die of boredom, Ben.”
His smile started off small, liquid sunshine erasing concern as it grew, causing my own lips to quirk up, my heart still stammering in my chest, still terrified he’d turn around and leave me to do this on my own.
He nodded. “Okay, I’ll stick around. But one promise: if I’m being an asshole, you call me on it before we go too far. I don’t want to get into any arguments with you, not anymore. We need to be friendly at least.”
“No fights?” I repeated. “What if we get into an argument over something stupid like paperclips or whether the flat earthers might have a point?”
“None,” he pressed, the word final, before he added, looking a little unsure, “and I sincerely hope you are joking about the flat earther thing.”
“You mean to say the earth is not a pancake spinning around in space?” I smiled, the curve of my lips growing by the second. “It was the only stupid science thing I could think of that I knew would annoy you.”
“So, you promise?”
“What happens if we argue?”
“Then someone has to leave the project. We might be the best people for the group but we won’t be if we can’t stay friendly.”
“And can I call you on your bullshit?”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Ms. Davis,” he replied, and still my smile grew if it were even possible.
“Deal,” I said, and a small smile broke out on his face too. “But I have one more condition.”
“Go on”
“You have to volunteer for Homecoming next week.”
Confusion and disbelief twisted on his features and he cocked his head to the side. “ Ms. Davis–are you asking me to be your date to Homecoming?”
“Volunteer at the dance,” I corrected. “It’s a good way to meet the parents we will be asking favors from, not to mention we always need eyes to make sure they don’t run off and try to hook up in unlocked classrooms.”
“You want me to chaperone?” One of his eyebrows flickered up in question, a slight smirk curling onto his lips.
I’d never dared to ask this of him before, and even if I did, I’m pretty sure I could have told you his response word for word. I nodded, unsure if this was pushing the already shaky friendship into rough waters so early on, but then, he surprised me.
“What time do I need to be there?”
