Ashamed

My heart was pounding hard in my chest. I’ve never been in this situation before. I sincerely did not know what to do.

I just stood in front of Mr. Brett battling within myself on what to do. My brain was not giving me any suggestions and the pride I had for it reduced instantly. How could it disappoint me when I needed it the most? I must be doing well in displaying how pathetic I am.

Mr. Brett observed my indecisive struggle and he chuckled. I looked up to meet his gaze. He was smiling down at me.

“You're cute,” he said and used his right thumb to brush my cheek.

Cute?! That was even the worst. Calling someone cute was only a nicer way of telling the person that she’s not beautiful enough or that she’s weird. The latter is what I felt he meant when he called me cute.

My cheek flushed.

“What do you want, Misha? Tell me exactly what you want,” he said, taking my hands and placing them firmly to my sides, then lowered himself a little to reach my height. I tilted my neck involuntarily