Forbidden

I tried to sneakily slide into my seat in the back of the room, as I swung my bag over the side of my shoulder, and took my books from it. My best friend, Abbie, looked at me wit wide eyes, and a confused look.

“Skylar, what the hel-?” she began to whisper.

“Ah, Ms. Port. How lovely of you to join us. We just happened to be starting our revision on one of the greatest playwrights of all time: Shakespeare. Please, take out your supplies, and try your best to catch up.” Professor Styles, told me, looking up at me from the front of the class.

“Uh, sure. Of course!” I stuttered.

A few of the students turned their head to look at me, then turned their heads back to their papers in front of them. I was running late, speaking to the dean of the University about switching some classes. Not this one, though. This one was one of my personal favorites, although I had no idea why. I hated English.

I squinted my eyes in concentration and tried my hardest to scribble down the notes, that Professor Styles had written on the board, but found myself distracted. Mr. Styles stood up there, grinning in his blazer and tie, pacing back and forth, going on about some play from who knows when. His head was topped with sweet, luscious brown curls, perfect ringlets. He had the face of an angel, everything about it was just, perfect. That's what he was, perfect. His eyes, his hair, his smile, his body, his deep, raspy British voice, perfe-

“Skylar!” Abbie whispered my name, and I whipped my head around to face her. She leaned in. “You have a crush on Styles.” she said, grinning knowingly. I could feel my cheeks turning red, as they heated.

“What the hell, no!” I snapped back, making sure to keep my voice hushed.

“I see the way you stare at him. Don't lie.” she said.

“Abbie, stop. I mean, there's nothing wrong with that... Even if I did like him.” I told her, pretending to be busy with jotting down notes.

“That's creepy. I mean, he's twenty-five, he's married, and he's your teacher, for damn sakes!” she told me. Mr. Styles whipped his head towards us, mid-sentence.

“Hey, ladies. Mind quieting down a bit?” he asked, with annoyance in his voice.

“Yeah, sorry.” I replied, right before shooting Abbie a death stare.

“It's not my fault you've got the hots for the teach-”

“Shut up, will you?” I shouted, not even realizing until after the fact. Everyone's eyes were on me, and I could feel a large lump rising in my throat. Mr. Styles looked at me, disapprovingly, with sharp eyes.

“Ms. Port, in my office after class. Understood?” he told me.

Shit. I only nodded my head, and tried at hiding my head in my textbook. Me, and Professor Styles, alone in his office after class. Great.