Mortified: My Blind Date Turned Out to Be My High School English Teacher

I mocked him: "Wow, Mr. Harrison is getting up there in age and still no one wants him?" He mocked me right back: "Likewise. Didn't Chloe's little high school romance fail to bloom?" Perfect. It was finally time for me to repay his "teaching grace." A few months later, I pointed at Carter Harrison standing in the corner of our bedroom: "Don't even think about getting into bed until you recite Hamlet's soliloquy flawlessly from memory." 01 When I went home for the holidays, my Aunt Mary set me up on a blind date. According to her, the guy was 29, held a Master's degree, and worked as a teacher. He had a nice car, his own place, and no living parents to cause in-law drama. He was well-off, handsome, and had a stable, tenured job. His family—or what was left of it—was pushing him to settle down, which was why he agreed to the date. I thought about it and decided his resume was pretty flawless. So, I went to meet him. Who could have predicted that the man sitting across from me would be my former high school English teacher? The exact same homeroom teacher who used to constantly lecture me about the dangers of dating in high school. "Chloe, you can't even pick the right answer out of four options on an SAT question. Do you really think you can find the right guy out of 330 million Americans?" "Don't date in high school, the quality is terrible. Wait until college to find someone to grow old with." His earnest teachings from years ago were still echoing in my ears. When we made eye contact, we both froze. He still had that refined, scholarly aura. He wore a light gray button-down shirt, crisp slacks, and a clean-cut hairstyle. His handsome face was framed by a pair of rimless glasses. He looked exactly the same as I remembered. Meanwhile, I was wearing sky-high stilettos and sporting ash-gray, wavy hair—the exact hair color he had once marched me to a salon to dye back to black after it had only survived for half a day. I tapped my fresh cat-eye acrylic nails on the table, wearing a smug expression that basically screamed: You might hate how I look, but you can't send me to the principal's office anymore. "Wow~ Mr. Harrison is getting up there in age. How is it that no one wants you yet?" Since he wasn't my teacher anymore, I took the initiative to mock him first. Carter Harrison’s eyes crinkled slightly. He folded his hands together and let out a soft chuckle. "Likewise. Didn't Chloe's little high school romance fail to bloom?" He wore an expression that said he had predicted my failure all along. Hmph. Whether it bloomed or not, he knew exactly why. "Well, that's all thanks to Mr. Harrison's earnest interventions back then. I imagine the students today are much harder to manage, especially since you're getting so old." I was deliberately lying through my teeth. The older man wasn't old at all; in fact, he was incredibly attractive. His brows relaxed, and the corners of his mouth curled up into a faint smirk. "And that's all thanks to how 'obedient' and 'well-behaved' you were. You cured me of ever wanting to be a homeroom teacher again." Perfect. It was finally time for me to repay his teaching grace. I was going to return every scolding and detention I had ever endured right back to him. 02 "Since we've caught up on the past, let's talk about some sensitive topics." I flipped my hair, resting my chin on one hand, and shot Carter a sly smile. "Mr. Harrison, I hear your family is pushing you pretty hard. Why don't we just make do with each other? At least we know each other's backgrounds." Carter’s Adam's apple bobbed. He cleared his throat softly. "You're a wonderful girl, Chloe, but I'm approaching thirty. I'm afraid I'd be wasting your prime years." Look at that. Even his rejections were elegantly phrased. "Oh, I don't mind. I like guys who will kick the bucket before I do and leave me a good pension," I blurted out. After a moment of awkward silence, Carter spoke slowly: "We used to have a teacher-student relationship. You know the saying: Don't fish off the company pier." I looked into his deep, handsome eyes and let out a light laugh. "What a coincidence. I'm a very lazy fisherman~" My words actually made Carter stifle a laugh. He rubbed his temples and sighed with a hint of helplessness. "It seems your rebellious phase is unusually long." "It's alright. It's nothing compared to how long you've been single," I fired back. "I haven't seen you in a few years, but your debate skills have certainly improved." "I'm flattered. It's all thanks to Mr. Harrison's excellent teaching." ... Great. Even though I got the upper hand in the banter, I had completely killed the conversation. That is, until a booming voice shattered the awkwardness. "Carter! What are you doing here?" I looked up. Well, well. If it wasn't Coach Davis, my high school PE teacher. "Who's this?" Coach Davis asked Carter with a gossipy grin. Suddenly, he stared at my face for a few seconds, his eyes darting back and forth. "Why does this girl look so familiar?" Carter spoke calmly. "Chloe." Coach Davis had a sudden epiphany. "Oh! The girl whose high school romance gave you so much insomnia!" Me: ... "Wow, you look so different! I almost didn't recognize you. So, did things ever work out with that boy you were dating?" Me: Thanks. Thanks a lot. Way to bring up the one thing no one wanted to talk about. How completely inappropriate. I let out an awkward laugh. "I don't know, Coach. Have you cured that mysterious illness that made you constantly cancel our PE classes?" "Ha! I ended up marrying your Spanish teacher, so I just gave all my class periods to her," Coach Davis said cheerfully, completely oblivious. He looked between us. "What are you two doing here anyway?" ... Carter and I looked at each other. "Why don't we call it a day?" he suggested first. "Sure. Want to exchange numbers, Mr. Harrison? Please seriously consider my proposal," I asked. He pulled up his QR code, and I successfully added him. I drove off in my pink Volkswagen Beetle, and he drove off in his black Honda Accord, heading our separate ways. 03 As soon as I got home, my mom turned into a relentless gossip reporter, following me around the house. "Quick, tell your mother! How is he?" "He's fine." My mom pressed further. "Your Aunt Mary said he's a high school teacher. What school? You wouldn't even have to worry about your future kids' education!" I gave a dry laugh. "He teaches at my old high school." My mom instantly became even more thrilled. "Oh my goodness! Isn't that fate?! You already know everything about him. You even have a foundation of feelings!" A foundation of feelings? Oh yes, the foundation was very deep. During the second semester of my senior year, our homeroom teacher went on maternity leave, and Carter became our temporary homeroom teacher. Back then, the school divided students into AP/Honors classes and standard classes. Our class was the most chaotic standard class in the school. It was composed of art kids, jocks, and chronic slackers. We were the Avengers of Disappointment. And I was what the teachers referred to as "a special case," "a constant headache," and "a lost cause." Back then, Mr. Harrison had worried his heart out over our class. He talked until his voice went hoarse and almost ruined his health trying to keep us in line. "Chloe, do you have a dream?" "My dream is to become the principal of this school so I can give Mr. Harrison a raise." ... "Chloe, when are you going to finish memorizing The Great Gatsby?" "Next year..." ... "Question: What literary era did Edgar Allan Poe belong to? Chloe, what did you write?" "I wrote... the Emo Era..." ... I was the quintessential rebellious teenager, and Carter was the quintessential strict, father-figure teacher. And he was determined to fix me. Because I was always talking to my desk mate during class, he changed my seat no less than ten times. I had occupied every single quadrant of that classroom. Finally, I told him, "Mr. Harrison, you can stop trying. I can talk to literally anyone you sit me next to." In the end, he created a special VIP seat for me right next to his podium. And it was right under his nose that he discovered my love letter. He had heard that teenage couples liked to sneak off and make out under the stadium bleachers after late-night study sessions. So, he started staking out the bleachers every single night to catch me. Then he rewarded me with a familiar day-trip to the faculty office. He earnestly lectured me about how high school romance was a tree that bloomed but bore no fruit. I wouldn't listen. He lectured me again: "Don't date in high school, the quality is terrible. Wait until college to find someone to grow old with." I talked back. "Did you find someone to grow old with in college, Mr. Harrison?" He sighed. "Chloe, you can't even pick the right answer out of four options on a test. Do you really think you can find the right guy out of 330 million people?" I looked at him with absolute confidence. "He is the right one." Carter looked exasperated. "Then tell me, what exactly do you like about him?" I said, "He's gentle, handsome, and refined." Carter looked at me in pure disbelief. "Love really is blind. Where exactly is Hunter Crawford, that meathead jock, gentle or refined?" Hunter Crawford was a track-and-field recruit in our class. All brawn, no brains. We had been classmates since middle school. The day he found out I secretly liked him, he excitedly ran ten miles. "Chloe... I actually... I really like you too." Seeing that he couldn't convince me, Carter tried to talk to Hunter instead. "Dating too early leads nowhere. You're just training someone else's future wife." "Someone else's wife? Mr. Harrison, when you put it like that, it actually sounds kind of thrilling..." 04 The past was too embarrassing to look back on. After washing up, I found a comfortable spot on my bed and opened Carter's profile. He still had the same generic landscape profile picture. When I clicked on his page, it was completely blank. In this day and age, there were still people who didn't post anything on social media? Those people were the scariest. It was the classic: I don't want to miss your life, but don't even think about knowing anything about mine. I sent a text: "Mr. Harrison, what are you doing?" I waited a long time. No reply... I opened my phone and queued up a game of Valorant. And the result... You have been slain. Defeat. A five-game losing streak... I was furious. Some people drive at night to clear their heads, some look at the ocean, and some are in their twenties getting called "absolute trash" by twelve-year-olds online. I was already absolute trash at the game, why couldn't I be his type? I remembered playing games secretly in class and getting caught by Carter. He had placed my phone on the projector desk and made the entire class watch. Watch how I died over and over, got flamed by my teammates, and eventually got reported for throwing. I had played the game for four years and was still hardstuck in Bronze. The angrier I got, the more I thought about it. Carter still hadn't replied. I opened my messages and texted him again: "Mr. Harrison, is it a felony to reply to a text where you're from?" "If you aren't going to reply, you might as well trade your phone in for a toaster." Still nothing... "Mr. Harrison, did the principal confiscate your phone?" Back in the day, Carter would use any trick in the book to confiscate our phones. He once told us our English pronunciation was terrible, so he asked us all to say "Hey Siri" to test our accents. After we said it, half the phones hidden in desks across the classroom lit up and chimed, "I'm listening." Just think about how devious that man was. ... My phone buzzed with a notification: "Apologies. I had something to take care of and wasn't looking at my phone." 05 Immediately after, I got a text from my high school classmate, Sarah Jenkins. "Chloe, make sure you come tomorrow!" I almost forgot. Tomorrow was her wedding, and she was marrying Kevin, our class valedictorian. "By the way, the wedding officiant is our old homeroom teacher, Mr. Harrison." Me: ... These two sneaks. Not only did they secretly date in high school, but they even invited the teacher who tried to stop them to officiate their wedding. I really wanted to give her a slow clap. Just then, my mom slammed my bedroom door open, looking uncontrollably excited. "Chloe! Your Aunt Mary just called. The guy from today had a really good impression of you!" A good impression? Who was the one who said he was afraid of wasting my prime years? My mom clearly didn't understand an English teacher's polite rejections. "Your aunt said his parents were academics, and the guy is already a distinguished teacher at such a young age. That’s a proper intellectual family, perfectly matched with ours, haha..." I rubbed my forehead, looking at my mother who was desperate to marry me off immediately. "A distinguished teacher from a family of academics, and a nouveau riche slacker from a bottom-tier college. Mom, where exactly do you see a perfect match?" It was true. My family was the textbook definition of newly wealthy. We didn't have much culture, but we owned a lot of real estate. "Wh-what bottom-tier college slacker? You're a wealthy heiress who studied abroad!" Yep, my mom knew exactly how to rebrand me. She kept rambling. "Your aunt said he was raised by his aunt since he was little. His aunt's health isn't great right now, so she's really worrying about him settling down." "I think this Mr. Harrison is a great catch. You better put in some effort and make me proud!" Heh... I wanted to make her proud, too. But I genuinely knew nothing about Carter's family background before this. After finally shooing my mom out, I pulled up my phone and texted Carter: "Mr. Harrison, I heard you had a good impression of me?" It took a while before I got a reply: "I have always had a good impression of you, Chloe." I rolled my eyes. English teachers really knew how to use sarcasm perfectly. "Mr. Harrison, my car is in the shop tomorrow. I heard you're also going to Sarah's wedding. Can I hitch a ride with you?" My car being broken was a lie; wanting him to pick me up was the truth. I dropped him my address. He replied: "Alright." Ahhhh... I hugged my blanket and rolled around happily. 06 The next day, I slept in until the sun was high. Carter arrived downstairs right on time. He was wearing a gray trench coat, the hem fluttering slightly in the wind. He leaned against his car with his sharp eyebrows, striking eyes, and a faint smile on his lips. He was already a gentle, elegant man, but the coat made him look even more sophisticated. Seeing me walk out, he waved, the curve of his smile deepening. I had to admit, the scene was incredibly striking... I was such a sucker for a handsome face. He hit every single one of my weak spots... I slid into the passenger seat of his black Honda Accord. The interior was completely black. It felt exactly like riding in my dad's car... "Um... Mr. Harrison, don't you think this car doesn't really fit your vibe?" I couldn't help but ask. "Then what would fit? A pink Volkswagen Beetle?" he chuckled. "Uh... a GTR?" A flashy sports car paired with his restrained, handsome face. Just thinking about it was amazing. "Chloe, a public school teacher must, above all, keep a low profile." Carter reminded me. Heh... This was way too low profile. I felt like I was sitting in an Uber. The wedding venue was lively, basically a massive high school reunion. "Chloe, over here!" "Wow, why did Mr. Harrison come with you?" A few classmates waved us over. "I bumped into him on the way and hitched a ride," I explained with a smile. "Mr. Harrison, please, take a seat!" A few classmates ushered him over. "Come on, Chloe, sit next to your rumored boyfriend." A classmate teased, making room for me. Sitting in that spot was Hunter Crawford. I hadn't seen him in years, but he was still the same muscular, sunny jock. "Stop spreading rumors..." He threatened the guy next to him. I didn't refuse and sat down in the empty seat. "Well, you and Chloe are both single. You might as well just get together." "Dating now doesn't count as a high school romance anymore, so Mr. Harrison can't stop you. If you guys actually tie the knot, you should have Mr. Harrison officiate yours too." "Isn't that right, Mr. Harrison?" Our old classmates chimed in one after another, teasing us. 07 Carter gave a soft smile but didn't respond. The MC invited the officiant to speak, so he stood up and walked toward the stage. I watched him on stage—tall, long-legged, with a breezy smile. He calmly took the microphone and began to speak. "Hello everyone, I am the bride and groom's high school homeroom teacher. As you all know, dating was strictly forbidden in high school. So standing up here today, I feel a bit terrified. I feel like I completely failed at my job." The crowd erupted in laughter and applause. "As their teacher, I witnessed their youth, I witnessed their beautiful teenage years, and I witnessed the joy of them getting into college. "To be honest, when they first got together, I rejected it. Just as they mentioned, they started their long-distance relationship right under my nose. They were one of the many couples I tried to tear apart. But they used their happiness to slap me in the face. And I hope to receive many more slaps of happiness like this in the future." Carter's humorous speech drew another round of applause, and I couldn't help but laugh along. But Hunter, sitting right next to me, suddenly spoke up: "Chloe, I have a crazy theory..." I looked at him, confused. "?" Hunter leaned in close, hesitating before whispering nervously: "The guy you liked in high school... it couldn't have been..." He gestured toward Carter on the stage with his eyes. My heart suddenly tightened. I panicked and blurted out: "That is a crazy theory..." Back then, everyone thought I had a crush on Hunter. It was a rainy afternoon during Carter's literature class. I wrote a note on a piece of paper: "It's raining outside. You're not looking at me, and I'm not looking at the rain. —CH" A gust of wind blew the paper directly to the feet of Hunter, who was sitting behind me. He picked it up, read it, and his face turned bright red. "Chloe... you actually have a crush on me?" His voice was a bit too loud and caught Carter's attention. From that day on, Carter targeted both of us... Everyone assumed "CH" meant Crawford, Hunter. But it didn't. Actually, the first time I met him, I was sixteen. He just didn't remember. From the very beginning, I knew my crush was a silent play. Speaking it out loud would only turn it into a tragedy. So, the fact that I liked him was a secret I never dared to confess. Dreaming about my own teacher felt like I didn't respect myself, and it felt like an insult to him. So I had to do rebellious things just to get his attention, wondering if he would remember me better that way. Thinking back on it now, it was so childish. Until graduation day. Crying, I handed Carter a bouquet of white hyacinths and stuttered, "Mr. Harrison, actually... I... I don't hate you at all..." After that, my family arranged for me to study abroad. Years had passed. I never expected our paths to cross again.

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