Cindy glanced at her wristwatch. Game time.
She quietly packed books into her bag while the rest of the class exploded with noise and chatter. Students slung gym bags over their shoulders, racing out like prisoners let loose. Cindy didn't move. She just sat there, calm, detached, watching them disappear.
She pulled her phone and stared at the wallpaper, a photo of Sandy, mid-laugh, sunlight dancing across her face. Cindy's finger brushed the screen gently. She kissed the picture like a secret ritual before standing and walking to the window. The school field stretched below, carved into neat sections for various sports. She didn't care for any of them.
She walked out of her class and aimlessly towards the lift and pressed it open.
A group of girls piled in after, their chatter bouncing off the mirrored walls.
"I think Ms. Sandy is chasing the basketball and swimming team out of the washrooms again," one girl said, swinging her ponytail like it made her important.
"Good. I need a place to chill. My legs aren't breaking themselves for that stupid relay," another chimed.
"You better not. You might walk into something nasty," added a third, smirking.
Cindy stood quietly at the back, hands in her blazer pockets. Her ears perked at Sandy's name.
"Why?" Someone asked.
The third girl giggled. "I heard Ms. Sandy and her husband have their little make-out sessions in the girls' toilets."
"What?" The whole lift gasped, before bursting into laughter.
Cindy raised her eyes from her phone. "Are you seriously spreading that bullshit?"
They turned to her, caught off guard.
Still calm, Cindy slipped her phone into her pocket and levelled a stare at the girl who made the claim. "You are aspiring to be a lawyer, right? Maybe start by learning what 'defamation' means."
The girl scoffed. "You are such a fucking psycho."
Cindy smirked. "Yeah? That means I do unhinged shit, right?" Her eyes narrowed. "You want to test that?"
Tension crackled. The other students backed off a step.
The girl backed back, "why are you always on my ass? You wanna fuck me or something?"
Cindy chuckled. "Naah. I can't plug both your holes at once like Kevin and Albert did on your birthday."
A chorus of gasps filled the lift.
"Freya, tell me that's not true!" one of the girls shrieked around her.
Freya's face twisted, and before Cindy could see if the slaps were coming, the lift doors opened. Phones were already out, recording. Cindy stepped off, hitting the ground floor button and let the chaos escalate behind her.
She wasn't sticking to that mess.
Instead, she headed for the girls' washroom.
Her steps slowed as she neared the door. Her heart thudded. Her palms were clammy. Why was she doing this?
She pushed inside, walking past the mirrors and the lines of stalls. The place buzzed with chatter and perfume, students loitering as always. She moved to the last stall and quietly slipped inside, locking the door.
She sat, breathing quietly.
"What the hell am I even doing? Sandy is married," she thought to herself. But something inside Cindy couldn't let it go. Not since the day she'd confessed her feelings. Sandy didn't say a word. No acceptance. No rejection. Just silence.
Cindy got it. If anyone found out, Sandy would be screwed. She would lose her job, maybe more. But knowing that didn't stop how Cindy felt. Every look, every word from Sandy lingered too long in her chest.
A voice echoed in the corridor, "Come on, girls. Time is up! Move it!?
"Come on, ladies, let us move it, it has already been thirty minutes, move it!"
Sandy.
Cindy's breath caught. She stayed still, barely blinking. The washroom slowly emptied, the noise dying down. She could hear Sandy moving through the space, checking stalls.
"fucking hell," Sandy muttered. "Who doesn't flush?"
Then another voice rang out, deeper, annoyed.
"You still in their girls?"
Mr. Thornson.
Cindy's body went rigid.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Sandy snapped, her voice sharp, heels clicking as she walked to the entrance.
"I was clearing the boys' bathroom."
"No, what the hell are you doing in the girls' one?" she demanded.
Cindy pressed her ear against the door, barely breathing.
"I am just watching out for the students," Thornson said.
"You followed me here?" she hissed. "Are you seriously going to stand in the fucking girls' toilet like some creepy bastard?"
"I was just-"
"No. This is a line, Thornson. Get the fuck out before someone sees you."
Cindy could picture his face. His weak-ass attempts to look innocent, the way he always acted like he was the victim.
Thornson grunted and stormed out. The door slammed behind him.
Sandy let out a shaky breath. Cindy heard the sound of her wiping at her face.
"When will this end?" Sandy whispered.
Her steps moved slowly, dragging, like she didn't want to keep going. Then her shadow appeared under Cindy's stall. She stopped at the door.
A hand pushed gently.
Cindy flinched. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the lock.
But the door swung open faster than she expected, and Sandy tripped.
In a split second, her knee caught the edge of Cindy's foot, and her body tumbled forward. Cindy stood, reflexively reaching out, but they crushed together.
Their lips touched
It wasn't a kiss. It was heat, breath, skin, accidental and electric.
Sandy gasped, her hands pushing away, but her eyes locked with Cindy's.
Neither of them moved.
"What are you doing?" Sandy whispered.
Cindy caught her hand, softly tracing her thumb over her knuckles." Are you okay?"
She brushed a tear from Sandy's cheek. Sandy didn't answer. Her body trembled, but not from fear.
For a moment, the silence held them like glass.
Then Cindy leaned in, voice soft, urgent, "just go with it."
Sandy didn't move, didn't nod, but she didn't step back either.
Their foreheads touched.
Then, a breath later, Sandy murmured, "You need to get to practice, Cindy."
But her voice broke, and her hand didn't let go.