It Started With A Kiss [Teacher/Student Relationship]

It Started With A Kiss - Chapter 3

"Same old, same old"

I nodded to my bestfriend. She's right, the school haven't changed even in a slightest bit. The walls were still painted white, the lockers were still colored blue, and there was so many improvements to work on, especially the girls restroom.

The mirror was still broken from last years' fight between a freshman and a junior. They were fighting over who should use the toilet first, since there was only three of them, the other two was occupied. Fighting over a toilet was stupid, really stupid.

As we were walking down the hallway to go to our homeroom, I finally took a glance at my bestfriend. Her name is Sharmaine Hale. She has the same age as me; 18. She's a brunette like me, and right now we were both wearing a skirt right above the knee, with twin socks and a pair of black converse.

Sharmaine was wearing a black leather jacket with a pink strapless shirt. Everybody called her a slut from time to time, but that's just the way she is,

I was wearing a Dwyane Wade t-shirt, who plays in the NBA and is currently playing with The Miami HEAT. I am totally inlove with him, and whoever insults him, well good luck.

As the bell rang, we both gasped as we rushed through room 308. We were never late before, never.

"Nice for you to join us Ms. Hale and Ms. Wade" Our homeroom teacher, Ms. Guzman greeted with a smirk.

I blushed at her compliment, at least I thought it was, as me and Shaii sat to our usual seat, far corner to the right.

Of course my schedule for this school year was already in my table.

I let out a small groan and sat down crossing my legs, hoping I won't take Mr. Carter this year, who teaches Math. He's like in his 30ish, and he's very harsh to me, VERY

I read through my schedule and a sudden groan escaped through my lips.

Shaii smirked. "I'm guessing you have Mr. Carter?"

"You guessed right, first period." I responded with a harsh tone as I clenched my fist.

'Way to start off my day' I thought. As I read through my schedule, I noticed an unknown name. Confused, I asked my bestfriend, who obviously knows everything what was happening in school.

"You should've went to the student orientation meeting." I shook my head.

I was way too tired to attend that meeting. I just got home from visiting my aunt in New York with both of my parents. Every year we would choose where we would spend our summer together, since I'm the only child.

"Well Mr. Fuller teaches AP English and Drama. And I'm guessing you have both?" I nodded again. "Well you don't have to worry about anything, he's hot anyway." Shaii said winking at me

I rolled my eyes. "Well I'm not interested with older men. I prefer my age."

"Who said something about you having an interest with 'older men'"? Shaii said as she air quoted with her fingers.

'Whatever Shaii, don't jump into conclusions."

Shaii chuckled. What's so funny?

The day came by in just a blink of an eye, and right now I'm at the cafeteria eating lunch with my friends. Across from me was Joe, whose my bestfriend since sophomore year.

He has a blonde hair and a dimple. He is way taller than everyone else, 6'3, almost the same height as Dwyane Wade. He loves some jordan shoes, and I remember last year when he stood in a line at Footlocker at midnight, just to get some new pair of jordans. Obviously, he ended up in a fight with some dude who tried to skip.

I chuckled at the memory.

Sitting beside him was Shaii. I know they're not going out, but I know damn well that Sharmaine likes him, a lot.

"So have you seen Mr Fuller yet?"

"Nope, but I have him next then last." Shaii nodded, as she twirled her fork in the spaghetti noodles, brought it to her mouth and ate it.

"This spaghetti is delicious though."

"Don't talk with your mouth full Shaii." Joe demanded.

As they continued flirting with each other, I was secretly hoping the lunch bell would ring like right now. I was very anxious to see what Mr. Fuller looked like, since everybody was talking about him.

I want to see him.

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