The Teacher

Mr Styles is different. ©

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3. Three

I left his office with a smug look on my face. I felt satisfied with the outcome of that conversation. Surely he realised that I was playing with him. 

"Long time no see, conversation went well?" Chris bashed her hip into me.

"It went fine," I swung my bag over my shoulder and left.

"Coffee, coffee fixes problems," I said before she could interrupt.

Chris pulled up at Three Beans. It was already crowded with students trying to cram in time for study and a social life. The scent of ground coffee beans greeted my nose.

I went to the corner table, unpacking my schoolbooks. I began typing my Creative Writing essay. So far it hadn’t moved on from the bad boy, good girl stage and I couldn’t think of any other ways to put it.

"Chris move you're in my light," I huff.

"Are you stalking me, Ms Miller?" I smelt the distinct waft of soft peppermint.

"No! Are you following me Mr Styles?" I looked at Mr Styles.

"It's Harry outside of school, I've already told you that,” his eyes flashed over my work.

"Well, Harreh," I shook my hands. "Move out of my light!"

"You here with someone?" he scanned the crowd before pulling up a chair.

I eye him, watching as he stretched his arms behind his head, then move my gaze to Chris who seemed to be having a lovely chat to the barrister.

"You're my teacher inside of school. But look, school hours have finished," I look down at my watch-less wrist. "So I hate really hate to deprive you of seeing my beautiful face, but go away," I slam my laptop closed.

It started as a twinge, then I could see his dimples starting to appear. Not the smile. It's mocking me. And it's so fucking adorable. And then his grin was from cheek to cheek, his eyes closing in his laughter.

“Stop it! I’m trying to write for Creative Writing and it’s extremely difficult with you here.”

“I’d love to hear you read some of your writing,” he smirked.

“I know you would.”

He snapped his attention to his name being called. “I better go.”

“Yes, you better,” I opened my laptop again.

"Oh, by the way," he whispered. "Love the French class, you're really sounding good."

I closed my eyes, letting out a groan.

"Lovely little chat with Mr Styles you just had," Chris handed me my ice mocha.

"Oh it was absolutely thrilling."

Chris and I came here everyday and had been for months. Mr Styles better not be accompanying us.

"So what is it with you and him?"

I widened my eyes. "Nothing, he's just stalking me." My eyes wander to the door, where Mr Styles managed to wink at me.

"Do you understand what's going on is illegal?" Chris asked.

"Chris," I closed my eyes, pressing my fingers to my temples. "There is nothing going on in the first place."

She shot me a funny look. I stomped on her foot under the table.

“It’s ludicrous. He’s my teacher and he’s extremely cocky,” I pointed out.

“Yeah but he’s hot, isn’t that enough for you?”

I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “Okay help me, I don’t know what to write for Creative Writing and it’s killing me.”

“Write about you and Mr Styles, just in a parallel universe where you have different names and look different.”

“How’s that parallel?”

“Well whatever, just do it,” she smiled.

My phone buzzed beside me. Chris looked over it sceptically as if she suspected it to be Mr Styles.

"It's my mother," I told her as I answered. "What?"

"Clear up your evening tomorrow because we're going to the opening at the local gallery," I heard rustling papers.

"My day was wonderful, thank you. And no, I don't want to be stuck in a gallery opening."

"Bring a friend, socialise."

"The only socialising I'd be doing would be with a bottle of red wine," I snapped.

"Scarlett, I've got the tickets, bring a friend. What about Chris?" I paused to look over at Chris who was in the midst of bubbling up her iced drink.

"Hmm, I don't think so."

There was a long pause

"What about that teacher?"

I breathed out heavily. "Mama, seriously?"

"Well he seems like the mature type, why not?"

I scoffed to myself. "I'll see you when I get home."

"Consider it," she began as I hung up.

I watched Chris for a moment as the bubbles erupted over the sides of the glass. She smiled sheepishly.

"Okay I think your drink has had enough," I flicked the straw from her mouth, swinging my bag over my shoulder.

--

"Mama?" I called out, closing the oven.

 "Tickets," she handed them to me, shrugging off her coat.

"You don't think it would be a little strange taking my teacher to this art exhibition?" I set the table.

"Well yes, but I don't see anyone else you could go with."

I paused, placing dinner beside her papers. "Seriously?"

"Well I personally think it would be a reasonable option. I also think he'd look good in a suit," she smiled over her papers.

"God damn it! If you like him that much, why don’t you ask him?" I grabbed my dinner and marched upstairs.

I sprawled out on my bed, considering tomorrow's options. I'd only go if Mr Styles seemed willing to, but it wasn't as if I could walk up to him and ask him to accompany me to the art gallery. Plus, I had to make sure he would say yes. I chewed my fingernails, pondering on the decisions.

"Scarlett?" my mother's soft voice was at the door.

"Mm?"

"You okay?"

"Yep, I'm fine, just thinking."

"About?" she pushed my feet so I shuffled over.

"About how to ask Mr Styles to this exhibition thing."

My mother frowned a little. "Just ask him. He is a guy, you know?"

"He teaches at my school. Did that just poof over your head?"

"Come on Scarlett, don't think I'm happy with this, but you let him drive you home and when you were upset I knew you had some sort of connection with him."

I watched her for a moment.

"Well I have paper work, go to sleep at a reasonable hour," she kissed my head, leaving the room.

I closed my eyes, resting my head on the pillows.

Mr Styles made a way into my mind. His grin, his dimples, his voice. Everything about him made me feel weak.

He was everything I couldn't have. 

--

"You understand this is insane, right?" Chris stopped me at my locker.

"Does it look like I asked you for your opinion?"

"No, but some police officers might be really soon."

"Chris, shut up. I need to do this, okay?"

I left before my friend could intervene any further. I could see Mr Styles in his office watching the television where a football game was taking place. Chris was staring me down from the other side of the hallway.

"Are you going to knock or hope for telepathy to be real?"

I flipped her the bird before knocking solidly on the door. Mr Styles turned to face me wearing his usual smirk. He dropped his feet from his desk and walked over.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"What are you? Shakespeare?" I brushed past him and took a seat in his chair.

He quirked an eyebrow at me before crossing his muscled arms. "What do you want?"

"That Packers?"

"It's a good game. But that's obviously not why you came here."

I took the tickets for the gallery and put them on his desk. "My mother wants you to come to this."

"Your mother? Is she as fine looking as you?"

I shook my head. "Harry, please. She's my mother."

"Yes, and genetics managed to make you smoking hot so I'm just checking-"

"Do you have a filter? Or moral standards?"

He scoffed. "Says the one who is asking me to an art gallery."

"My mother is doing a meeting and I needed to have a friend to socialise with. There will be wine and it's a black tie event."

"What if I don't show?"

"Harry Styles. You better show up. I mean, you wouldn't want to let down my mother, would you?" I dropped my voice, stepping closer to him. "You know where my house is, be there at 6:30 tonight."

I left the room, heading down the hallway. Mr Styles had an amused look on his face, his eyes watching me leave. The sound of the door closing meant I ran the rest of the way. Chris had met up with Gale and Sam. I smiled and waved at them before walking with Chris to our first period class.

"What happened?"

"I'm going out tonight."

 

Is it okay? People have been asking for a chapter so here we go (:

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