I'm In Love With My Teacher

So Close Yet So Far

Brianna's P.O.V

Ian opens the car door for me. I am a little nervous about going to his house. The first time was a total surprise to me and I barely knew him then.

Now? I don't know. We weren't on the best terms at the moment but I guess that's why I'm doing this. To straighten everything out for good.

He steps in and starts the engine. Before he drives off he looks over at me, "okay?" He asks.

I give him a reassuring smile, "yes."

"Good," he smiles back and then we're moving, each time further and further away from the apartment.

I breathe.

Will you calm down? It's not like he's going to kidnap you.

It's not that that I'm worried about.

Are you suddenly self conscious? Omg, you think you guys are going to have sex.

My subconscious is laughing at me.

Is that really why I'm nervous?

Yes.

Oh God! I blush tomato red and turn to look out the car window thanking God that it was dark inside the car.

He pulls up outside his apartment. I take a deep breath and get out before he could pull the door for me. I think I was still red from my thoughts so I didn't want him to see me directly.

He takes my hand and leads me inside the elevator. I remember him living on the sixth floor so I push the 6 before he could and grin up at him. He laughs at my childish behavior and presses the 6 button anyway, smirking down at me.

It's the same as I remember when he opens the door to his apartment and leads me inside: spacious and cozy.

"Are you hungry?" He asks as he stalks into the kitchen.

I smirk at him, "well since a certain someone told me to cancel a dinner date, I might as well be."

He glares at me and his tone is serious when he speaks, "I don't like him."

I sigh, "can we just eat and talk after? Cause you don't like anyone."

"I like Cait," he defends.

"Only because you and her share a common objective and that is to keep me safe," I roll my eyes.

He walks over to me, "you got it, baby," he says and kisses me lightly. He didn't even give me time to respond before he was a good distance away from me again.

"Chicken with pasta or veggies?" He asks going inside his fridge.

"Definitely pasta," I say. I recall the date with D'Ablo and how he had ordered me a salad.

I am not a vegetable type of girl.

"Can I help?" I ask.

"Of course," he answers, surprised.

I walk over to the stereo and put in a Nina Simone CD. I look over at him "seductively" and he raises an eyebrow at me.

"What? I like cooking to music," I defend myself.

"Mhmm," he hums then laughs.

I start chopping the chicken breast into pieces.

"Careful," he warns when he realizes how fast I was going.

"Shh, I'm a pro," I boast and look at him with a smirk. Big mistake.

Tell me, how stupid can I be to have a knife in action at my control and look away?

Blood immediately starts to roll down my finger from the wound I just created. I drop the knife on the cut board and squeal.

"For Christ's sake, Brianna," Ian curses and turns on the pipe.

Water springs to my eyes. I don't usually cry over physical pain.

I stick my finger under the cold water and wince. It isn't big but no doubt that it's deep.

I sigh and look at it pouting. He grabs my hand frustratingly and speculates it like it's a piece of evidence for a crime scene.

"I told you to be careful," he looks at me.

"I was," I shoot my reply.

I'm not looking at him but I could tell that he was glaring at me.

"Look at me," he orders.

I roll my eyes then oblige.

His glare softens once our eyes make four, "does it hurt badly?" He asks.

I nod my head.

He puts the wounded finger in his mouth and sucks it tentatively. My eyes widen in shock and I stare at him.

He doesn't look anywhere but at me. I feel the warmth from his tongue rubbing against my flesh and I gasp at the sensation that travels from my finger down to my groin.

The intensity in his eyes makes me squirm and I realize that they are darker, his pupils are larger. He sucks a little harder and I gasp, my mouth opening slightly to allow more air.

I'm breathing so hard that my chest touches his when I inhale.

He lets my finger go.

"Better?" He asks, his voice hoarse and low. I am aware that the stereo is on but I don't hear anything, just the sound of our breathing.

I am too stunned to answer. He moves closer to me, eliminating the space between us. He leans closer to my face and he's so close that my breath gets caught in my throat.

But then something flashes in his eyes, like doubt, and he steps back taking his warmth with him that I suddenly feel cold.

What was that all about?

"Be more careful," he warns and he continues to cut the sweet peppers.

"Whatever," is my reply. He ignores this and takes the chicken from me when I am done.

Somewhere in between the baking of the chicken and the boiling of the pasta I switch the CDs to Bob Marley's album.

"One love, one heart. Let's get together and feel all right," I sing aloud.

I hear his soft chuckle in the kitchen. I spin and glare at him, "what?"

He chuckles again, louder this time, "nothing."

"Tell me," I order softly. And I beam inside when he obliges.

"Your accent was off, it sounded funny."

"Well I'm American, sorry that I don't know how to speak Caribbean," I hold up my hands.

He chuckles again, "Bob's Jamaican."

"Same thing," I say dismissing his statement, "can you hit off a Jamaican accent?"

"No one can hit off a Jamaican accent, pssh," he says then laughs.

I roll my eyes. 15 minutes later we're done eating and we're sitting in his couch, both of us wearing serious expressions.

"Ready to get down to business?"

I swallow. I don't exactly know what he means by that but that's not what makes me nervous. It's the look in his eyes. He looks so vulnerable and his eyes are distant. I'm not used to this Ian, I'm used to the always in control Ian.

Either way I answer surprisingly with a stern voice , "I'm always ready."

Am I the only one dying to know what Ian's about to reveal next?

Comment and let me know what you think. Thanks for being so patient ❤️