Rhayne

Four

Class finally ended. Though I kept my eyes steady on the board the whole time, I didn't bother to genuinely pay attention to the lesson. My mind was befuddled with the mystery of Rhayne Walters, my professor. I couldn't fathom to describe the uncanny feelings toward him. It was unearthly and unorthodox, everything simply impossible.

Who was he, and what was his hold over me? It also had me questioning about Elio. Not only was his name odd, everything about him was bizarre. His sudden appearance, his gangly and fiery nature, the way he made me feel out of this world- in both heaven and hell.

The agonizing pain I felt earlier diminished in the presence of Rhayne, weirdly enough. I stop my thoughts, confused. Why do I persist to call my professors by their first name? Elio is an exception because of our recent relations, but I know nothing of Rhayne.

Which makes him all the more appeasing. A mystery to be deciphered. Class finally ends after two hours, and I linger behind in packing my items.

"You can go on ahead, I've got something to do." I tell Sasha, waving her off. She frowns, obviously still concerned as to how I've been acting all day. She places her palm on my forehead, and then another on my stomach. I roll my eyes at her.

"Are you sure?" She asks, opening my eye wider so she can see my pupils. It almost makes me laugh to have her think I of all people was on drugs. Though I smoke from time to time, I don't indulge myself on things I could possibly get addicted to.

"I'll be okay, mom." I joke with her, which she brushes off.

"Since you're okay, I guess I can leave you be. I'll be at the lunchroom." She says, waving me goodbye.

I pack up my things, turning my attention to Rhayne. He was sitting down at his desk, sifting through papers and checking through assignments. I make my way down slowly, noticing the way he tensed his shoulders as I got closer. The way his shoulders slightly stiffened and the way he inhaled the air softly, as if noticing the perfume I wore. He went through the papers slower, until he stopped completely.

By then I was in front of his desk, staring him head on. Though I felt my fingers shaking, I was surely confident. Who am I to not be? I'm fucking Laena Jackson.

"Hello, Mr. Walters. We haven't been introduced properly." I say, drawing the words out almost seductively. I searched for his eyes, waiting for his blue orbs to meet mine. They sparkled, somehow glinting in the dimmed light of the classroom. A gasp escaped my lips as I gazed at them, all my confidence blown away. My self-esteem was on it's knees at the sight of him, and a darker part of me wished to physically be on my knees for him as well.

"Laena. I already know much of you."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Your transcript was quite extraordinary, as well as your teachers recommendations."

"As they should be." I say, inching closer to him.

He pretends not to notice this. "I hope you do just as well in your remaining semesters." He says, professionally.

But from the way his lids lowered and his head leaned back against his chair, I knew there was a subtle meaning beneath his words.

"Of course, Professor." I say. I reach out to shake his hand, a small smile on my face. I knew what shaking his hand would ensue. Every nerve in my system begged for his touch.

He hesitantly looks at my hand, as if considering the risk of touching me. He reaches out, shaking it softly. But the pleasure that deviates from his touch drives me insane.

I push my way towards him, climbing onto his lap to straddle him. He grabs my hips, pulling me into him roughly. I wrap my arms around his neck, unthinking. My mind was blank and only raging with desire. I needed him, wanted him. So much it almost made me hate him.