#unknown event

July 8, 1991 - Shannen Doherty at an event, unknown details.

More photos from this event here and here.

Any information is welcomed!

Unfortunately for you, the physics teacher next door was as loud as he was obnoxious. And between the insanely loud projects and his yelling (out of excitement or anger you couldn’t tell between the brick walls that separated your classrooms) and his love for “pranking you”, you rarely knew a moment’s peace. You’re still angry at him for using a master key to get in your classroom while you were on a fieldtrip and having his egg-drop competition project on all your desks. So many eggshells… They even got in the beanbag chair in the corner. How?

But still, despite how he glared at you from across the teacher work room, you knew you had one thing over him. You could grade papers and tests faster. He’s tried everything, from scantrons to making all the answers “C”. Still, with your red pen moving across papers, adding commas and breaking up giant paragrahs and writing a “???” when something made no sense, you knew you were faster. It was the one up you had against the buff red-head. If his personality wasn’t so atrocious, you’d probably spend your free period ogling his muscles through his white dress-shirt, buttoned enough that the principal wouldn’t complain but you could still see the defined muscle of his neck and how flawlessly the connected to his chest.

He looks up from the desk in the teacher work room, and from the face he makes, smug with white teeth that tightens his eyes. You just noticed he wore eyeliner and you feel heat spread across your cheeks. And you can tell he knows how flustered you are by the way he flexes the arm that was resting across the desk. No, you can’t let him have that ego boost. So, you blow a raspberry across the room at him. Luckily it’s just the two of you, so the affectionate ‘dumbass’ that slips through his lips like oil into water goes unheard by everyone. Including you.

The rest of your free period goes uninterrupted, and even though it’s during your lunch, and you could stay and grade papers with the man you loathe most, you knew that at least three kids would be lined up outside your door, eager to get their hands on some of the new books you ordered. Did you need to buy Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe? No. But the library only had one copy and it hasn’t been on the shelf for two months.

You couldn’t help but resist the urge to go back and spend your lunch with your kiddos. When you go to stand up, grab your stuff and leave, Eustass clears his voice. “You’re not going to eat your lunch in here?”

You tilt your chin up. “No. Why would I?”

He scoffs. “Didn’t realize I’d ruin your appetite.”

“On the contrary, this is the only time of day I can be in my classroom and not hear your yelling. I’d like to savor it.”

He retreats to his own bag, to pull out his lunch. “Suit yourself, Elizabeth Bennet.”

“My name is not Elizabeth Bennet!”

He smirks. “Sorry I forgot we were in a professional setting, Ms. Bennet.”

You just throw him the middle finger as you walk out the door. That man was almost as stubborn as you were. Almost.

Your lunch period went off without a hitch. When you came to the door the students were just filing down the hallway to come visit you, and you couldn’t help but smile and wave at them as you opened the door, a silent invitation to come inside and spill 2% milk all over the yoga mats you kept behind your desk just so they could sit in a circle and eat lunch.

The lunch period went off without a hitch, discussions varying from drama to books to scathing hot-takes like: “I hate Shakespeare it’s simultaneously high-brow literature and filled with dick jokes” and “if everyone read pride and prejudice women wouldn’t view dating men as a fix-it-project”

You hummed in thought, “well, I suppose so, but not everyone can be a-“ You were interrupted by the lunch bell, and had to quickly usher out the students. Although before your next class began, one stopped in the doorway and looked at you. “You need to be an Elizabeth Bennet,” they said firmly.

“Pardon?” You asked.

“You need to be an Elizabeth Bennet because you can’t be a Mr. Darcy.”

“I’ll be as much of a Mr. Darcy as I please,” you joke with a scoff, “you should head to class, young person.”

The student still stands there, beanie askew on their head as a wide toothy grin takes over their face. “You can’t be a Mr. Darcy because your Mr. Darcy is Mr. Kidd!” And then before you can say anything, the runoff. They had already seen the blush take over your face, and as you sit their in your cheap swivel chair, processing the words they had just said, you notice Eustass Kidd leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, watching the whole thing go down.

“So, I’m you Mr. Darcy, huh?” He says with a chuckle, kicking up off the wall.

“Go to class!” You shout with embarrassment. Students had started watching.

“Fine, fine,” he relents with a lose wave of his hand. You can see the veins flex in his forearm, and were you a weaker woman, you would have drooled. “But I’ll be back.” It sounds like an empty threat. You wish it was an empty threat, but you know in your hearts of hearts that you’ll see him soon.

Soon turns out to be 20 minutes later, three slides deep into a presentation about how an author’s outside biases and experiences can affect the themes of their literature, with student’s throwing out examples of books you’d already read that semester and some other student trying to answer. “Since all these people are dead, there are no right or wrong answers,” you had told the class before your and everybody else’s head whipped over to the door that had been abruptly opened.

“How’d you get that door open? I locked it!” You shriek in indignation.

He’d caught you frozen in a startled jump, and couldn’t help but laugh and dangle his keys in the air. “I’m the head of fire safety for this wing,” he states before taunting, “so I get a master key to every single door in this building.”

“Regardless, you’ve broken into my class mid lecture,” you say, stiffening up your posture and brushing invisible dust off your dress shirt, “what could you want?”

“I’m here to pass out tests, obviously,” he says with an eye-roll, holding a manilla folder with about six or seven tests in it.

“Heat!” He calls out and weaves through the rows to get to the outlandishly tall boy sitting in the back, who wasn’t paying attention before this. “You got a 96, good job kid!”

“Wire!” He calls and weaves himself to the front of the class again. “You did awesome to, don’t forget that!” He places the paper down on the his desk, with the giant 100 and a smile face visible to you from where you were standing. You make a quick stride over to Eustass and grab him his tie and drag him out of the classroom before he can open his mouth.

That man is a behemoth, and you’re surprised he lets you drag him through the open door, slam it, and pin him to the wall next to it.

“Eustass.” You push him closer. “Fucking.” You look up through your lashes to glare at him. Your chin is at his chest and you’re craning your neck for eye contact but you are not afraid of him. “Kidd.”

His smirk only grows with the growl you let out. Tugging his tie so he’s even closer to eye level with you. “Why would you ever do that?”

He doesn’t even gulp, completely unafraid of your very genuine rage. “Because,” he drawled out.

“Because what.”

“You didn’t eat lunch with me in the teacher work room today.”

You paused. Genuine shock on your face. “What.”

“And I’ll do it again tomorrow if you don’t get dinner with me-“ He couldn’t finish his sentence, his lips colliding with yours.

You had tugged on his tie once again, using it as leverage to not only pull yourself up but tug him down so you could slam your lips against his, in what was very much a kiss that could get you both fired. It was a clashing of teeth and tongue and rage. Partially over why you didn’t do this sooner, why you were doing this at all, and why the fuck this man was incapable of using chapstick.

You pull away from each other, mutually gasping for air.

You step back and release his tie. “Come pick me up at 6, don’t be late.”

His eyes crinkle when he smiles, a genuine smile instead of shit-eating grin. “And?”

“If you’re late I’ll start dessert without you.” You turn around, and waltz right back through the door, and Kidd’s eyes are left staring at were your ass used to be, dress pants stretched a little too tight around it. He takes a deep breath before standing back up fully to go to his classroom before the door opens again.

Ca. Late 1990/early 1991 - Shannen Doherty at an event.

Ca. 1994 - Shannen Doherty, Rob Weiss and Marci Klein (fashion designer Calvin Klein's daughter) in New York.

Ca. Fall 1993/Spring 1994 - Actress Shannen Doherty attending a concert by her boyfriend/husband Ashley Hamilton. Unknown details.