The rest of Cara’s classes went by slowly and the 22year old find her mind drifting. Instead of paying attention to lectures and taking notes she kept thinking of her meeting with Cheryl, no Ms Karcott, no Cheryl. Cara kept thinking about the conversation they had in her teacher’s office and whether Cara should have told Ms Karcott about her attraction to the teacher. Each time the scene played out, Cara felt butterflies in her stomach. After the end of classes she found herself staring at the piece of paper the redheaded teacher had given her with a phone number. Should she call it.
Before she could think about it anymore, Cara dialed Ms Karcott’s number. The phone rang several times and Cara thought about hanging up. When she was about to, a woman’s voice answered, it was her teacher.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Ms Karcott, this is Cara Westport. I hope I am not bothering you but you gave me your number and said to call if I wanted to talk about anything I could.”
“Of course” Ms Karcott’s voice lightened. “But please call me Cheryl. Why don’t you come over this evening and we can talk.” The teacher then gave Cara her address and directions.
Later that evening Cara rang the doorbell to Cheryl’s house and stood waiting at the door. She shifted nervously back and forth on her feet wondering what she was doing and what she should say.
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