The Teacher

Mr Styles is different. ©

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2. Two

I found it mildly disturbing that I was zoning out constantly thinking about Mr Styles. Thinking of his lips pressed against mine. Which is a very wrong thought because he is my teacher and this whole concept is a stupid idea and probably illegal. 

But he was so right. And he was close to my age. Four years isn't much, is it? Love has no limits...

I decided I was getting no where with my homework asides from making little love hearts and scribbles. A shower was good, I always make the right decision in the shower.

Steam circled around me. So pros and cons of possibly being with Mr Styles.

Pros:

1. Good car

2. Good looking

3. Good smile

4. I could possibly get better grades in sport but that's a totally irrelevant point

 

Cons:

1. He's my teacher.

 

So although there were four pros and one con, I still think the con outweighs everything. I dried my hair and slipped my pyjamas on, curling up beside the window. If I did want him, I'd have to make a move and stop putting it off. Because otherwise someone else was going to get there first.

I began reading Looking for Alaska, because, as an average teenage girl, anything John Green I would read. 

The number turned over to 12:09. I shut my book, closing my eyes. If this was going to work I needed to know what I was doing. I doubt he would just throw another opportunity at me, seeing my reaction to his last one. I just had to beat him at his own game and show him I was worth something and he shouldn't want anyone else. Selfish, yes.

But I was up for playing if he was the prize.

 

--

 

I had a total of eleven missed calls from Austin along with his 25 messages of 'I'm sorry, you're the only one,' and 'take me back'. I read them over my bowl of cornflakes, ignoring my mother's pestering question. I shut my phone.

"Huh?"

"Can I ask you one question without you having your head in that machine?"

"You just did," I stood up and headed to my room.

Tight jeans and a hand-cut midriff should catch his attention. I pressed an earbud into my ear.

"Don't listen to music while you're walking," mother said from behind me.

"Can't hear you, the music is too loud," I snatched my bag and left.

 

--

 

"Hello," Chris leant against my locker.

"Hey," I ripped at all the photos of Austin and I, scrunching them up into a tight ball.

"Wow, some drama is finally happening in the boring life of Scarlett Miller."

"Shut up," I tossed the ball in the bin.

Mrs Field droned on, tapping at the board as we struggled to mimic her French pronunciation. 

"Oooh," she tapped the board.

"Oooh," we repeated.

"Aaah," her face scrunched up.

"Aaah."

"Eeeeh."

"Eeeeh," we chorused.

I felt sorry for anyone who walked past this room wondering what the hell was actually taking place. After that period I had physics, which I limped through. Then that was followed by double calc, which never ceased to kill me. I swear, if I had a few days to live I would spend them in the halls of this high school where hours turned into centuries.

I met Chris at her red Honda Civic, the one she had dragged me along to buy with her a few months back. Sam and Gale were already crammed into the back seat. I'd known them for a lot of my life, however high school put us in different classes so Tuesday afternoons was when we got together.

"So tell me about this absolutely terrible drama," Sam said over her chai latte.

"Austin was with another girl so I'm dropping his sorry ass," I sighed.

Gale shot me a look. "Any candidates for the next man?" 

"Oh, I spy with my little eye, a candidate passing right now," Chris grinned.

I followed her glance to see Mr Styles running the park boarder. Shirtless. I took a massive gulp of my coffee, praying the cup hid half my face.

"Looking good Mr Styles!" Gale shouted.

"Nice legs, Mr Styles!" Chris called.

"Nice butt," Sam muttered and they erupted with laughter.

I admit I smiled. I looked up to see Mr Styles turning away. He may have been shirtless, but oh shit, he did have a nice butt.

--

I stumbled into his office.

"Uh, Ms Miller?" Mr Styles looked up at me.

"Hi."

He sipped at his tea. "Are you lost?"

"No. I was coming to apologise, on behalf of my friends."

He sighed and put his mug down. "Ms Miller, they didn't say anything-"

"They said you have nice legs! And a nice butt!" I screeched.

"Okay, well, what's your take on the situation?" he gestured towards a chair opposite him.

I sat down. "It's weird that they think you have nice legs. But I'm not denying any of it."

"Okay. What do you want me to do? Give them a detention?" a smirk played on his lips.

"Just ignore it."

"I'm a grown man, I don't need one of my students coming in and giving me counselling," he looked at me.

"Oh," I stood up abruptly, tripping over my own shoe. "Okay, see you period five."

I dipped out of the room, bashing into Christ.

"Scarlett?" she pushed me backwards. "Mr Styles's office?"

I opened my mouth to explain.

"Oooh, Mr Styles's office. I see," she winked and ran off.

I kicked the crumpled up coke can and trudged to Creative Writing. Creative Writing was my strong subject, particularly soppy, over-the-top romances.

I spent the whole lesson drawing swirls on the back of my binder, which then turned into Mr Styles's curls. I stopped, scribbling it all out as the bell rang.

--

I kind of thought that Mr Styles's flirtatious action was a one-off thing, because this morning was much different. 

"Daydreaming about Mr Styles?" Gale giggled softly.

"What? No," I yanked hard at my laces.

"Okay then," she flicked her towel over my head before heading out to the oval.

There were hockey sticks laid out on each side of the oval. 

"Okay, two teams of fifteen girls, eleven on field, four cheering your asses off," he smirked, the whistle dangling from his mouth.

Gale and I made sure we stayed on a team. I had to take first centre. 

"Good luck, ladies," Mr Styles blew on the whistle sharply. 

I smacked the puck and the whistle went. I stopped, hands on hips.

"What? I did nothing wrong."

"Yes you did, your foot," he glared at me.

"What?"

"You touched it, with your foot."

I rolled my eyes and picked up my stick, positioning myself opposite the other girl.

We had the puck down our end and I was going to shoot for the goal when the whistle went again. I dropped my stick.

"What now?" It was the third time he'd called me up. Just me.

"Obstruction."

"What?"

"Using your body to block other players from getting the ball-"

"I was bloody defending. What else am I meant to do?" I stepped closer to him. The whole field was quiet.

"You used your body to shield the puck," he pointed his finger at me.

"No I didn't! Why don't you read a hand book about field hockey and learn something!"

He blew the whistle in my face. I opened my mouth to say what, but he answered before I could.

"For bad attitude towards the referee, now go change and stay in my office," he pushed past me, signalling for Gale to come on as my sub.

I stomped off the field, kicking up grass and flinging sticks. And he was probably there with his arms crossed, smirking. I threw my singlet onto the bench, pulling on my plaid shirt and jeans. I stormed off down the hall to his office.

Maybe I just shouldn't have turned up, just ignored him and gone to the last class. I pushed the door open and threw my bag on the floor, swinging in his office chair. It smelt like his cologne, soft peppermint. I closed my eyes, swinging my legs up on his desk. 

"Ah, Ms Miller, making yourself at home?" Mr Styles dropped his sports bag at his feet.

I didn't meet his eyes, just watched the the small clock on his desk as the seconds passed by.

"Had enough of answering back to me?" he sat in the chair opposite me.

"Are we done, here?" I took my feet off the table, hitting a stack of his papers.

"Ms Miller, I think you have to understand, that what happened on Monday was-"

"Absolutely nothing and you were just flirting with your students because you're a sick minded teacher?" I said calmly, hitting the bottom of the papers on the table so they aligned.

"It was wrong. I am your teacher, I can't have a relationship with my students," he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Can a student have a relationship with a teacher?" I leant forward. "Is that any different?"

"I only treated you badly because yesterday five students came into my office and accused me of having a sexual relationship with one of my students."

"Yeah well it wasn't very discreet."

He rubbed his chin before sitting up straight. "You're an interesting person, Scarlett Miller. I like that."

 

(:

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