English Teacher Troubles |H.S

Ahthea has a new English teacher- a tattooed, pierced, flirty twenty-five year old named Mr Styles.


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1. Chapter 1

Chapter One - Mr Styles

"When does it ever make sense?" Valentina mutters, flipping through her notebook plastered with markings and drawings set as a reminder.

"English isn't hard, Val," I answered. I turned the dial on my lock and opened my old, rusting locker to grab my books. The blue hues were washing off the insides, promoting a disgusting green colour to present itself.

"You're naturally gifted, Ahthea. It's different," Valentina snapped, her perfect brows shaped down in frustration. I stared at her and sighed.

"Haven't you talked to Mrs Valskeny?" I ask, grabbing for my binder. She looks up at me with a curious glance, then breaks out into a smile.

"You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"She left during the weekend; early retirement. There's a new English teacher now," Valentina smiles big, and leans in. "And he's fucking hot."

"Val!" I chaste. She shrugs and closes her book. She gives me a swift hug and walks off with a goodbye over her shoulder just as the bell rings.

I roll my eyes and clutch my books to my chest, bracing myself against the hoard of students coming my way. I wasn't unpopular per say, but I wasn't anybody people stepped out of the way for.

My hair flew around as I bustled around the busy hallways. I groaned, hoping my freshly dyed red hair wouldn't be tarnished, and pushed my way through the crowd to my English classroom.

With a huff, a sat down at my usual spot, front row, and fixed my hair so it rested in a ponytail that draped down my back. I leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief, closing my eyes to collect myself.

Students laughed around me and talked among themselves, before turning silent, leaving the room in utter quiet. I ignored them and tapped my desk with my fingernails. It was a therapeutic practise for me.

"Miss."

I jumped at the rough, gravelling voice that was whispered by my right ear. Hot air brushed my cheek as I snapped open my eyes.

A man was standing in front of me, head leaned down to my ear. He had piercings everywhere and meaningless tattoos covering his neck, which I could see from him being inches away from me. His hair draped down into my face; it smelled of vanilla and smoke.

My breathe caught in my throat as he leaned back and his emerald eyes glittered at me, a grin playing at his lips.

"This isn't nap time, Miss," he breathed, his mouth curving perfectly to form words. I gaped at him like an idiot, unable to speak.

Finally, his intoxicating self stood up and looked away, grin never falling. "Don't do it again, that includes all of you."

The man walked to the front of the classroom and picked up a piece of chalk. With a skilled handwriting, he wrote his name on the board. The class awed and whistled when he turned around, showing his butt to the crowd, which was stuffed into a slit of tight skinny jeans.

With a chuckle, Mr Styles turned around and waved his hand. "None of that, guys, I'm trying to keep it professional," his voice was melting and husky, radiating in my ears. "As you've probability guessed by now, I'm your new English teacher, and I look forward to getting to know all of you," he paused and grinned at me with a glint in his eye. "Especially the sleepy ones."

I blushed and looked down, feeling his strong gaze on me as I kept my eyes on my empty paper. The class laughed in their seats, and I knew all the girls were googling at him and the guys were impressed by him.

I, I wasn't sure what to feel.

"So, lets do roll call, first names only. I like to be friends with my students," he joked, gesturing to a boy sitting on the edge of the classroom, closest to the door.

"Theo."

"Hey Theo," Mr Styles walked over to Theo and shook his hand with a friendly smile. He walked down to the student behind him, and it carried on until my seat.

I felt Mr Styles graze my hand with his fingertips as he looked down at me. "And you?"

"Ahthea," I muttered, hesitantly staring up into his eyes. They were captivating.

"Ahthea. Beautiful name," he whispered. He grinned and took my hand into his and shook it gently. With a small pause of silence between us, he moved on to the next student.

My hand felt like it was buzzing, and I felt dizzy. "Jesus Christ," I whispered into the air.

Eventually, Mr Styles was done with roll call, and he strolled to the front of the room with confidence. He glanced at the clock and frowned. "It seems we have about twenty minutes left, so I'll assign a mini assignment; it won't be for marks, it's purely for me to get to know you better. I want you all to write me a poem, minimum six lines, about your favourite things. I expect them tomorrow at our next English class."

He clapped his hands and tipped his head, his hair falling over this eyes. "Begin."

The class burst into action, ready to comply with their handsome teacher to seem good. I picked up my pencil and pointed it at the paper, ready for my flow to start writing words.

It didn't come. I stared blankly at the paper, unable to think about how to write my poem. I sighed and erased the few words I'd had out of frustration, and ran my hand through my ponytail. I was an amazing English student, with all A's, yet I couldn't find the inspiration I needed.

I looked up and locked eyes with Mr Styles, who was grinning at me. I shifted in my seat at the slight tug of the corner of his lips as he noticed I was staring back, and the way his eyes gleamed at me like I was prey.

I looked back down and blushed, hoping he wouldn't notice my blank paper. For whatever reason, I really wanted to impress him.

The class bell rang way too soon, and I stood to gather my things with a frown on my face.

"Ahthea? May I speak to you after class? It'll only take a minute or two," Mr Styles called to me. I nodded and kept my head down, and waited for the classroom to empty.

I swiftly walked up to his desk with fake confidence, and a grin blossomed on my face at the sight of his own. It was contagious. He stood and walked in front of his desk, leaning down on the edge so he was standing causally. He crossed his arms and frowned at me. My heart dropped a million miles and I started panicking.

"Don't worry," he laughed, "you're not in trouble. Far from it."

"Oh. Well then what is it, Mr Styles?" I asked, gulping down my nervousness.

"Oh call me Harry, Ahthea," he grinned at me and grabbed my hand again. It felt warm in his giant palm, his fingers wrapped around mine.

"I saw you were struggling in class with the poem. I've heard from other staff that you're an amazing student, and excel in English. If there's anything I can do to ease whatever is eating you, let me know, okay?" His voice was soft and he hardened his grip on my hand.

I felt like I couldn't breathe. "I'm fine, Sir, I-"

"Harry," he reminded.

"I'm fine," I blushed. "I'm just a bit tired; first class Monday after all. Thank you for your concern, Mr - Harry."

He grinned. "My name sounds amazing coming from your tongue," he whispered, grasping my other hand with his own. I stared up at him, my cheeks must've been a crazy red by now.

"Anyway," he released my hands and bowed his head. "Anything you need, I'm here to talk. I love helping my students get a better school experience. Thank you for your time."

"No problem, Sir - Harry," I said, clasping my hands together to hide the sweat forming on them.

"I'm very excited to read your poem tomorrow, Ahthea, I know it'll be very good," Harry complimented. "But I've kept you long enough," with a clap of his hands and a smile, he stood and went back behind his desk.

"Have a great day, Ahthea. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" He asked.

"Of course, I never miss school," I blurted out, my nerves bubbling in my stomach.

"Good. I'll get to see you everyday, then," he grinned. He motioned towards the door. "Don't be late for your next class."

"Right." I strode towards the door and paused. "Goodbye Harry," I added, before walking out of the classroom.

My body buzzed all the way to Math. I couldn't wait to hear what Valentina would say about this .

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