"What'd he want anyway? A quickie in the teachers' lounge?"
My eyes snap to hers.
"Fuck. No…Really?" She asks excitedly.
This time it's my turn to laugh, she's not that gullible, but it's fun to tease. "Of course not. He did tell me to stay after class, though." I offer her a wink before casually turning in my seat and opening my book.
"Bitch, you have got to get you some of that. He's ten times hotter than that loser Lance, and you can bet Mr. Harrington has popped a few virgin ass cherries in his time."
"Quinn!" I gasp out. "Shut up! I don't need the whole fucking class knowing."
She leans in and whispers, loudly. "You'd better give me all the details."
It's probably nothing, or I suppose it could be about my grades. With Lance suspiciously showing up wherever I go, I haven't been doing much studying. Usually, it wouldn't be a big deal since bribing the teachers in this place for anything higher than a C is considered normal. But Mr. Harrington is a hard ass and isn't easily swayed. My parents have already tried.
"I'm sure it's not like that." I correct, lifting my eyes to the front where I catch him staring.
Most would look away, but he doesn't. His eyes stay on mine as he stretches back in his chair and places his hands behind his head. Maybe it is like that.
I shift in my seat, causing the hem of my skirt to ride higher on my thighs. If it were any other man, they'd chance a glance, but I know he won't. Something is intriguing and sexy about having that much control. I'd never really noticed that about him before.
Just as I consider dropping my hand beneath the desk and satisfying this sudden onset of need—giving him a real show—a timer goes off. It breaks our connection. He clears his throat and pulls his attention back to the rest of the classroom. "So, who can tell me how far you've gotten and what you think the author was thinking at this point in the story?"
A slurry of perfectly manicured nails shoots skyward as soon as the words leave his lips. It's their chance to impress him even though the majority are not going to deliver even the slightest inkling of what the story is about. Which is fine because it means he'll spend another twenty minutes explaining his view, and we can watch him pace about the front.
"Rebecca…How about you go first?" He asks.
She giggles and shifts in her seat at the fact he's paying attention to her. "Ok, Mr. Harrington. I made it to scene II. In summary, it seems that Hamlet has killed someone, and the king and queen feel he's crazy."
I'm mindless to whatever else she says, all I can think about is what Mr. Harrington wants after class.
Is it about my grades?
Am I in trouble?
How did I not know his lips move like that when he speaks?
"Harlyn, how about you?"
"Umm, what?" Random giggles come from the other girls, and I pin a narrowed stare on them. "Could you please repeat the question, Mr. Harrington?"
He shakes his head. "Pay attention, please. Catarina, can you enlighten Miss Aldridge on what I've asked?"
"I'd be happy to."
I'd be happy to. I scrunch my nose and mock her in my mind.
After repeating the question with a snark that makes me want to punch her in the face, she begins to explain her thoughts on each scene. But she doesn't stop there. Spiraling into a black hole of her thoughts on the entire story, she eats up the rest of our class time, talking nonstop until the bell cuts her off.
I should feel some sense of relief. It's over, but my heart is racing, and a million things are spinning through my mind as I watch each student exit the room. This is it, time alone with the man I lie awake thinking about every night before I sleep.
"Definitely DO everything I would do," Quinn states, eyeing me and then Mr. Harrington.
I smack her on the arm. "Would you get out of here?"
"Gladly." She says, sauntering toward the front of the room. "See you tomorrow Winston."
"Quinn, I'm not sure what you get away with in other classes, but here I'd like to be addressed as Mr. Harrington." He corrects her once again this time the annoyance is in his tone.
Quinn is one of my best friends, but sometimes she can be a total bitch, and now is one of those times. Hearing his name roll off her tongue sends a twinge of jealousy straight to my gut. It's stupid. He's never shown any interest in either of us, but if one day he did, it would be her.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out, I gather my things intent on moving to the front since no other kids are here, but as I'm bent over, I don't notice his approach and moving to stand I bump right into him.
His strong hands grip my arms to keep me from falling back into the chair, and I must crane my neck to meet his eyes.
Heat flushes my cheeks. If a hole opened up in the floor right now, I'd be more than happy for it to swallow me up. But it doesn't, and I'm left standing here in the hands of a hot teacher who smells of spicy cologne.
"Hmm, at a loss for words. I find that interesting since you and Miss Raynor talked through my entire class." He says, taking a moment, his eyes dance between mine before letting go of my arms and taking a step back. "Please, Miss Aldridge, have a seat."
"I'd rather stand."
Propping himself up on Quinn's desk, he lightly crosses his arms over his chest. "Suit yourself. Do you know why I've kept you after class?"
"No, sir."
Something flashes in his eyes at my response, but it's gone as quickly as it came. "As I'm sure you're aware, your grades are
