See Me After Class(123)

Oh . . . my . . . God . . .

No way.

There is no way this is happening, that he’s taking a note from my lesson plans.

He’s—oh my God—he’s acting out a scene from Pride and Prejudice.

Tears start to well in my eyes as I slowly nod.

My pulse skyrockets as I can feel the beat of my heart climb up my throat. The classroom stays silent, all eyes on me.

Slowly, I lower my eyes and answer, “Quite well.”

“I hope the weather stays fine for you,” he says.

I nod.

Cora looks between us and says, “Well, we must be going.”

“So soon?” I whisper.

The girl in the bonnet says, “Miss Gibson looks well, doesn’t she?”

Arlo’s face stays stoic, eyes downcast, as he says, “She does. Quite well.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Cora says, “Well, we really should be going.”

Arlo dips his head and then turns out of the door, Cora following close behind. The girl in the bonnet shuts the door, and after a few seconds, from the other side of the wall, I hear Arlo’s class cheer.

And for the first time in two weeks . . . I smile.





“And why would he do that?” I ask as one student raises their hand.

Knock. Knock.

The door opens, and the student in the bonnet appears, holding the door open. Filtering in behind is Cora in a top hat and Chuckie . . . in a dress.

The class erupts and Chuckie quickly goes to my desk, where he takes a seat.

“Miss Turner to see Mr. Chuckie. Or . . . uh . . . Mr. Bingley to see Miss Bennet?”

The class chuckles, and Cora starts pacing the room.

Chuckie stands, adjusts the ribbon at his waist, and then folds his hands in front of him. Cora whips around and says, “Miss Chuckie, I’ve been an ass.”

Oh, dear God.

I place my hand over my mouth to keep from giggling. From the corner of my eyes, I catch Arlo, standing near the doorframe, looking in, watching. His stare intense, his meaning clear.

Bending on one knee, Cora says, “Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Dramatically, Chuckie clutches his hands and pretends to cry as he says, “Yes . . . a thousand times, yes,” just like Jane Bingley.

Cora stands and, when I think they might hug, they both hold out their hands and give each other a fist bump, only to run out of the classroom together.

Darcy . . . I mean Arlo, exchanges one more look with me and then the door is shut behind him.

Be still my heart.





“I know what’s next, and I’m terrified,” I say, taking a bite of the pizza Stella brought over.

Stella wipes her mouth with a napkin and whispers, “Okay, you know I haven’t been a fan of the man because of what he did, but . . . this is freaking romantic.”

Glancing at the bathroom where Keiko is, I say, “I know. I keep thinking about what Keeks said the day we unpacked my apartment. About growth and how he was trying to help, not hurt. Do you think there was some validity to what she said?”

Leaning in, Stella says, “Despite wanting to throw her theory into the wastelands, I’ve known Keiko for a bit, and if there’s one thing I know, she doesn’t say anything unless there’s validity behind it. Her statements have meaning, and even though I don’t want to believe it, she was . . . right.”

I groan. “Damn it, Stella.”

The bathroom door opens and Keiko joins us. “It’s surprising that I’m surrounded by two intellectual minds, but your ability to calculate the thickness of the walls and soundproofing in a small studio apartment is incomprehensible.”

“Did you hear us?”

“Every word. And you’re correct, there is validity to everything I say.” She cuts her pizza with a fork and a knife.

“He’s eating away at my resolve. He’s using my favorite book against me as a teaching moment for his students and a way to win back my heart.”

“It’s possible to conclude that he’s using the very same teaching techniques he tried to quell from your practice, and instead, proving his theory wrong right in front of you. Quite a noble feat, to not only admit that he was wrong, but also show just how wrong he was.”

“See?” Stella nods to Keiko. “Validity.”

“So, what happens when it’s Mr. Darcy’s turn to make a move? What do I do?”

“Depends,” Keeks says. “What do you want? If you conclude that life would not be the same without the romantic involvement you once obtained with Arlo, then, I say, play along. But if you believe your life is better, more suitable without him in it, deny his request for your hand.”

“From the look in your eyes, I think you know the answer,” Stella says.

“Yeah, I think I know it, too.”





Knock. Knock.

The door opens and Chuckie once again comes into the room, this time wearing a nightgown. The girl in the bonnet comes up to me and holds open a robe. My class, used to this by now, all sit silently and wait.

With a deep breath, I shrug the robe on and tie it at my waist.

Chuckie lies across my desk and kicks his feet up in the air. “Oh, Miss Gibson,” he says, batting his eyelashes. “Can you possibly keel over from happiness?” He smiles and kicks his legs about. “He thought of me as indifferent, that I didn’t care for him. Can you believe such a notion?”