The Wrong Type: A Short Story Collection

13. The Teacher's Favourite

Lucas Buchanan wasn't too fond of teenagers, their backtalk, their baseless arrogance, their whole attitude simply rubbed him wrong, which begged the question why he accepted the post at Kingswood College.

Well, because he liked teaching. If he could stand there and talk about numbers from dawn to dusk he'd ask for nothing more. Then in a couple years' time maybe he could secure the long coveted position as a university professor at Cambridge, like his father, and his father before him.

Even with familial ties it was proving a challenge.

Sighing, he rifled through the exam papers, each worse than the one before. "Bloody idiots," he muttered, flicking to another page. "What's the matter, Miss Green?" He asked without looking up.

"Mr Buchanan I feel like I disappointed you."

He put the papers aside and looked up. He'd never been one to sugar coat. Yes, he hated his students, but even at his worst he couldn't quite bring himself to place Miss Green in the same category as the rest of them.

She was so eager to please. It was difficult not to appreciate her complaisance. "Miss Green, you're my best student. What are you talking about?"

"The mock test—"

"Was satisfactory," he finished for her, then after a moment picked the papers back up. "You've got nothing to worry about. Carry on as you are."

She nodded, her brown head bobbing. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, watching as she stopped at the classroom doors. Then she turned back, retracing her steps to stand at his mahogany desk once more.

"I'm sorry Mr Buchanan, I'm sure you're right, it's only, well, satisfactory. It's such a horrible word."

He flexed his hand, his fingers twitching, his gaze going over her almost against his will, small and tight, trussed up in her neat white shirt and plaid skirt. All she lacked were pigtails.

Christ, not here. He needed to leave his sick fantasies were they belonged. In the dark recesses of his mind.

"You had the second highest mark. You did good," he muttered, a little distracted. Were her skirts getting shorter?

"Who was the first?"

Slamming the papers down he regarded Miss Green cooly. At least she had the grace to look embarrassed. Good. "Miss Hoang," he said, watching her face closely as her dark brows furrowed, her button nose twitching. "Does that upset you?"

She made no reply. Then suddenly she whirled around and stomped out of the classroom.

...

He was so... there were no words to describe him.

Stern, controlled, handsome, and so absurdly tall, even taller than Uncle Archie.

Huddling back on the bed, Kitty traced the photo she found on the school website. His thick dark blonde curls, those deep groves around his mouth and between his brows. And those wide, unsmiling lips that never did anything beyond talk maths and occasionally curl with disgust.

She wondered what it would be like to make him smile.

Just once.

Keira had called him a "grumpy old man" and they had all giggled at the image, but they all stared googly eyed when he stood in the classroom, scribbling math equations on the board and casting disdainful glances at them sat behind their desks, listening to his frustrated sighs when he asked a question and nobody raised their hand to answer, except Kitty and Holly, his two favourite students.