𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 /GXG/

🔹️''If''

I look at her; by the hand that plays with the second button on her shirt. I start to get excited about what she said. So, I pull out one of the chairs and sit down extremely anxiously.

''Are you asking me to come to your house?'' I say.

"Yes.''

''And you live alone?''

''I live...''

She and I at her house, and then she lives alone and...

And if...

I remain silent, and, in the corridor, the sounds of other students' conversations come close. There is a soft sound of her shirt being buttoned.

''All right, I 'll!'' I smile.

"Three hours in the parking lot." She winks at me.

🔹️🔹️🔹️

Around three o'clock, I left math class and looked around the courtyard school with alarmed eyes, full of tension, to flee.

I see headmistress Ye-jin, walking all imposing (She's looking for me. I turned off my Samsung), wearing her ' sexy'' gray suit ㅡ Those who say she's sexy are some children who categorize all the employees here. My mother is in the ''MILF list'' group.

Just thinking about it makes me angry and I end up stepping in a puddle of dirty water, in a hole in the concrete floor. It's still raining, and not only are my shoulders and hair a little damp, but my shoes are soaked now.

In the parking lot, the red Kia roars alongside me. The painting glows in the dim light. The teacher rolls down the window. ''Still want to go?'', she asks, in a weak voice.

''Yes, I want to,'' I reply, looking around, with fearful eyes.

Then she unlocks the other door, I run, getting into the car almost in a panic. I don't think I'm doing something right. I close the door, peeking at her from the corner of my eye, and I stamp my feet on the car carpet to get the excess water out of my shoes. ''Damn! '' I squint my eyes seeing the mess I make, getting mud on it. ''Sorry.''

''You're so crazy,' she says, looking at me with her blank expression; her hands on the steering wheel.

''Does it bother you that I'm wet? ''

''You didn't understand the reason for the statement?''

"Why?"

''For agreeing to go to a stranger's house,' she says with a weak smile. Maybe forced.

''But I've known you for over a year?'', I respond doubtfully.

''You know the teacher,'' she says, and now her voice sounds cold. She takes the car out of the parking lot and drives slowly, in the rain, to the exit.

I remain indifferent, silent, watching the drops roll down the windshield for a few seconds.

"Are you a psycho by any chance?" I say jokingly, focusing on the slow movement she makes with her tongue on her voluminous lips.

''I don't know...'' Her slight smile appears. ''Of course not,'' she murmurs while looking at a fixed point on my legs, as if analyzing my body.

The restlessness returns, racing my heart.

Maybe I'd better get out of the car.

The school exit gate is raised. I feel suffocated when the 50-year-old doorman's gaze connects with mine.

She drives down the street to the left, goes around the roundabout and takes the dual carriageway to leave the neighborhood.

Then I can breathe a sigh of relief.