After Class

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸

𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓷𝔃𝓸

I am teaching advanced students and students who were privileged enough to be placed in my class. My class gives you many credits that you need to acquire to graduate, all bundled into one.

So making my class easy isn't something I would do. Dumbing it down so someone could comprehend the information isn't what I'm going to do. That doesn't mean I won't help one of my students comprehend the material, just that the difficulty isn't going to lessen because they can't keep up.

My newest obstacle was Cassidy Clair. One of the few students I haven't had a whole conversation with. Typically when students start failing my classes, they ask for extra credit or extra hours to request tutoring. But not Cassidy. I saw the determination that surrounded her and showed proof in her classes with the high grades and excellent work.

One small problem is that I have been grading her tests precisely. I know she is a good student and that everything comes to her naturally. So giving her the easy route wouldn't be fair to anyone, including herself. She needs something to carry her through the rest of senior year, or she will die out before she even makes it to college.

That's why I was hoping over this week she would improve and try harder, but everything seemed to get worst. I expected excellence from her but received subpar work. It made my hopes die down farther, and my heart picks up faster.

This means extra time with Cassidy. I wasn't expecting to follow through with that because I expected her to pick up her grade and not need the spare time. It turns out I'm wrong and might make a fool out of myself—something I never do, especially around my students.

What could I possibly teach her when I'm so distracted. She had already been in my classroom for half the semester and already took midterms and aced it. But every time I walk into my classroom, where she sat in the back of the class with her ankles crossed, her skirt riding up her thighs, I had to look away.

My obsession with her didn't start when she became my student, and I like to remind myself that or I would think of myself as a creep. When I noticed the beautiful girl in the back of my class, I saw her at a charity event with the elite in the community. I knew after the fact that she was going to be a student of mine when I saw her on my roster.

I hadn't accepted the teaching job yet, which happened to be a week before the beginning of school. Technically I didn't do anything wrong when my eyes consumed her head to toe. Although innocent and something you could probably wear as Sunday best, the dress she wore did not hide her figure.

It didn't hide her obvious beauty either her curly hair was held in a bun towards the back of her head. Curls perfectly framing her face, her lips with a transparent gloss on them, her lashes long and painted in mascara. Her eyes, god, her eyes. The deepest brown I have ever seen and consumed me whole when I saw her for the first time.

I try to hide away from her gaze every day in my class. Me a grown man, nervous to look at the young woman in my class. The one who makes my palms sweat and my skin feel flushed. I shook her hand at the event while her family introduced themselves. I went by my first name and didn't bother telling them my last name since her parents already knew.

This is why I think she hadn't noticed my obvious avoidance of her and having ever met me. If anything, it hadn't occurred to her. I wanted it to stay like that, but nothing could stop the inevitable, well, besides me. But at this point, I didn't want to stop the out-of-class hours. Subcounsily I knew what I was doing when I wrote the note on the top of her test last week.

I knew what I was doing when I told her further action had to be taken if her grade did not improve. But I was determined to keep everything professional. Not that it wouldn't stay professional because, unlike the rest of the students who fawn over me, she barely takes a moment to glance my way.

Which I am thankful and regretful about. Today when I handed back the tests marked up with grades on them, I watched as her face turned distraught. How her lips formed an adorable pout, and her eyes pooled with anger over disappointment. She wasn't disappointed and sad, and she was angry and frustrated.

Something unexpected but refreshing. Once again, I left a note on the top of her test telling her to see me after class. Every teacher is allowed to have students to tutor for the quarter, and last quarter, I tutored Allison who's father made a heavy donation to the school, so the dean required me to tutor her with the best treatment. All of the other students I tutored had bad grades, but Allison excelled in my class.

It wasn't suspicious I knew what was going on, and I didn't fall for the trap. I have been around enough catty school girls to know how the scandal goes. The dean overlooks the senior class about to graduate, especially in teacher-student relationships, but all senior girls want a claim on the new male teacher.

The cliques are easy to notice and pick out who belongs to them. It took me no longer than a week to realize the teachers have the same system. I returned to the lesson with my thoughts momentarily drifting and went over the next unit and what we would be learning.

Right after class, all my students left except for Cassidy, lingering towards the door, looking to be considering disobeying what I asked of her. But instead, she walked over to the front of the desk and sat down with a sigh. I tried to keep my eyes from lingering. It was no use since my eyes took in everything about her from the black tights underneath her skirt, the black dock martins on her feet.

Her hair was now down, touching her shoulders and touching her cheeks. Her wide hips twisted in discomfort when I took my eyes off of her figure and towards her eyes. "Looks like you need after class sessions to pass,"