English Teacher Troubles |H.S

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


2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two - The Poem

It had taken me all night, and many hours of frustration and pencil lead, to finish my poem. Usually, writing poems was easy for someone like me; I loved literature and filling a page with words, but something about knowing Mr Styles was going to read it made me nervous.

I'd written the poem maybe six different times now, revising and choosing other words to make it perfect. I wanted to impress Harry, I wanted to show if I was a good student.

With a huff, I threw my pencil down and rubbed my eyes. My window, situated left to my bed, had tiny rays of light shining through it onto my face. Dawn was approaching, and I hadn't slept yet.

Annoyed, I folded my poem and fit it into my backpack. I slung the bag over my shoulder and made my way downstairs for breakfast. My steps were slow from exhaustion. I slumped into my seat, letting my bag slide into the ground.

"Bad night?"

I looked up at my dad, who was reading the newspaper that was splayed out into his lap. He was grinning at me and gesturing to the plate of pancakes sitting on the counter.

"Yeah," I mumbled, grabbing for a pancake and stuffing it into my mouth. Dad chuckled and checked his watch.

"Well, get dressed and I'll drive you to school, okay?" He said, looking back at his paper. "Can you believe Campbell soup is on for a thirty percent discount?"

I rolled my eyes and slowly went to go get dressed. I searched through my closet, grabbing for my favourite pair of sweats. I paused when I felt the lazy clothing in my fingers.

I bit my lip and thought of Harry. Maybe I should dress up today, to show my professionalism. To show that I care about my education.

I ended up throwing on a tank and denim jacket and a smooth frilly skirt that ended just above my knees. I stared in the mirror at my heavy bags under my eyes from lack of sleep and groaned. I covered as much as I could with makeup and added a dark lipstick to distract from the leftover dark circles. I slipped on some old wedges that were fraying at the bottom and jogged back downstairs.

"Ready?" Dad asked, groping for his keys hiding in his pocket. I nodded and followed him to the car; a rusty old junky that rumbled as it moved anywhere.

"So, why so dressed up today?" Dad looked at my skirt with mock-surprise. "You usually wear ugly old sweats."

"Funny," I answered. "There's a new English teacher, and I want to show I'm a serious student, that's all."

Dad smiled and looks at my proudly. "That's my girl, always so eager to learn."

I blushed and looked away out of the grimy window. My stomach was turning at the thought that my school was coming up, and I was to be faced with Harry in less than ten minutes.

Dad dropped me off and waved as he drove away. I brushed off my skirt, holding it down against the wind, and made my way inside. Students ran around and chased each other as I ducked around to get to my locker.

I stuffed my books into my arms and quickly jogged to the English room, suddenly eager to see Harry and gave him read my poem.

I hesitated by the door, then composed myself and walked in confidently. I casually looked over at the teachers desk, where Mr Styles was sitting comfortably. He was wearing a nice blazer and another pair of skinny jeans that perfectly showed off his nice features. His hair was as tangly as ever, and his eyes were still a vibrant green that I vividly remember staring into yesterday.

When he noticed me a bright grin hit his face. His cheekbones pointed out as his lips curved up beautifully. I flushed and felt my confidence draining quickly.

Mr Styles stood and strode over to me, staring into my eyes. I couldn't look away and stayed rooted to my spot as he walked over to me.

"Ahthea, it's so lovely to see you," he commented sweetly, his thick voice ringing in my ears.

"You too, Harry," I said shyly, trying to utter some fake-confidence since mine had disappeared.

"Have you finished your poem?" He asked, linking his fingers together in a very teacher-ish way.

"I did, I spent all night on it," I blurt out. I swallowed back anything more, desperate to not say anything else that sounded desperate.

Mr Styles' eyes shone and his grin returned. "I'm glad you're dedicated to your work, Ahthea. May I say, your outfit looks lovely today."

"Oh," I muttered, feeling my neck then red, as it did whenever I was embarrassed. "Thank you, Harry. You look quite good, yourself."

"Thank you love," Harry reached up and, unlocking his fingers, stroked my hair, which was done up in a bun. I jumped as his hand brushed my scalp. "Your hair is very soft, what do you use?"

He laughed and removed his fingers. My stomach was flipping and I was thankful I hadn't eaten too much or I was sure I would've hurled from the sheer nervousness.

"As you can see my hair doesn't like to stay smooth," he joked, running a hand through his rough hair.

"I think it looks good," I commented, smiling at him. He grinned and patted his head.

"Thank you, love." Mr Styles looked at the students trickling in to his classroom and called out for everyone to take their seats. I followed suit and took my seat at the front, my head buzzing.

Mr Styles stood at the front of the classroom and motioned for us to listen. The room went quite and he started his lesson.

"Yesterday, I asked you to write a poem for me to learn about you. I'm very excited to hear them. I think we'll read them out to the class, so why doesn't Theo start?" Mr Styles pointed to Theo and waited.

Theo stood and started reading.

"My name is Theo, I like dirt bikes, I've been learning to ride since I rode my trikes, I like to swim and also read, and I especially enjoy to eat," Theo read, then bowed and sat down.

Mr Styles laughed and clapped. "Very good, Theo. Kyle, how about you?"

The class read their poems until it reached me. I stood nervously and gripped my paper in my hands tightly. Mr Styles was in front of me, his eyes piercing my own. I swallowed and tried to clear my dry throat.

"Go ahead, Ahthea. I'm sure your poem is as wonderful as you are," he muttered lowly, winking at me. I felt my stomach do a flip and quickly looked down at my paper and started reading.

I blurted out my words quickly, desperate to keep my classes eyes off me as soon as possible. I stumbled on a few of the rhymes, and by the time I finished I was sure Harry would be so unimpressed he'd be across the room when I looked up.

When I looked up, Mr Styles was staring at me with a thoughtful look on his face and a small grin on his lips. I stared at him, not knowing what to say, watching his eyes flicker in the dull ceiling light.

"Very good, Ahthea." I jumped at his voice. It was low and rough, like he hadn't spoken in months. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and quickly looked away after his body twitched and his eyes traced my lips.

I sat down as Mr Styles moved on with the lesson, not saying a word until the bell rang. Before I could even move, Mr Styles was in front of my desk and leaning down to meet me eye-to-eye.

The class filtered out as I stared at Harry, who had a serious look on his usually-playful face.

"Ahthea?" He asked quietly.

"Yes? Did I do something wrong?" I was suddenly worried I had disappointed him and was about to be lectured, but Harry suddenly stroked my hair, running his finger tips down my cheek.

I froze as my skin tingled where is touch was, my mouth gaping. "No, no. You're doing everything right, Ahthea," he muttered, his eyes falling on my lips again.

Suddenly he was moving and he was standing up straight again. My body buzzed excitedly with nerves. "I have a request for you, Ahthea."

"Yes?" My voice was high-pitched and girly, which seemed to make him amused.

"Do I make you nervous, Ahthea?" He asked, his breathy voice washing over me.

"Not at all, Mr Styles," I answered, grinning up at him. "What was your request?"

Harry blinked slowly, his long lashes brushing his face. "There's a writing contest for young adults upcoming next month, there's a prize of a hundred dollars. I'd like you to enter it; you've got talent, Ahthea."

I blushed and rubbed my arm nervously. "I'm not sure I'm that skilled."

Harry leaned down, but not as far as he was before. "Nonsense," he lectured, placing his hands over mine. They completely covered my small hands and he laced them together.

"Share your talent, yeah?" He asked again, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll think about it," I answered, my eyes locked into his. There was a brief pause, then he smiled, satisfied with the answer.

He released my hands and checked the clock. "Better get to class, Ahthea, wouldn't want to have you miss class."

"Okay," I said breathlessly. My legs were wobbly as I stood and brushed past Harry, feeling his fingers graze my hip.

As I left the classroom and said goodbye, I could feel his eyes on my behind, before he quickly looked away. I blushed, my cheeks heating up, and I quickly pulled down my skirt and made my way to math.

I sat through the morning thinking about how I felt for my new teacher, and how risky it was to be touching him like that. Hell, I'd only known him two days and I already wanted to know everything about him.

I barely ate at lunch, too busy thinking about Harry and the feeling of his fingers tangled in my hair.

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