The Teacher Next-Door

Chapter One

I stood in front of the classroom.

Professor Jackson: English Department

I frowned at the name on the sign. Professor Jackson? Who? Where was Professor Houston? Her name was the one on my schedule for English 102; maybe I made a mistake.

"Mary!" My best friend, Claire Martinez yelled at me.

She was absolutely gorgeous. Her long blonde hair stopped at her waist and her bright green eyes sparkled whenever a glint of light grazed them. Was I jealous of her? Of course, as any eighteen-year-old girl would be. But, I was also happy to exist around her, knowing that her world was far more exciting than mine.

I did have a life of my own, I wasn't a jealous loser. I had a beautiful mother who worked in finance, I had a lot of amazing best friends (some I did share with Claire), and I had my own goals in life. It was quite the journey being Claire Martinez's best friend though.          

"Hey, Clay!" I teased her.

"Stop calling me that, you bitch." She laughed, but for some reason I was semi-offended.

I pretended like it had no effect on me and changed the subject. "So, have you met Professor Jackson?"

"No, I haven't even seen the man. I heard he's filling in for Professor Houston while she's on maternity leave. I can't wait to find out what he looks like, maybe he's a babe."

"I doubt that." I replied.

She smiled, pulling on my wrist and guiding me into the classroom.

We didn't even walk through the doorway because we instantly stopped dead in our tracks. Sitting at a desk all the way in the back of the classroom was a younger man, who looked around my age, wearing a white polo shirt, black slacks, and his shoulder-length curly hair was tied back into a bun, with a few curls dangling in his perfect face. I felt my skin heat up when he looked up from his computer and smiled in our direction.

"Good morning." He nodded his head.

"Good morning!" Claire and I replied in unison.

"Feel free to sit wherever; there are no assigned seats for my class." He began typing on his computer again.

Claire and I exchanged a look of disbelief with each other before making our way to the back of the classroom, sitting next to one of our friends.

"YO." Olivia whispered. "Professor Jackson is straight FIRE."

Claire nodded her head in agreement, pulling a notebook out from her Chanel purse. "God, I know. He is FINE."

I ignored them and glanced in his direction, still not believing that this was real. He had the face and body of a model. Why the hell was he a professor? I rested my chin on my hand and pretended not to be looking at him, but come on, that was obviously a lie.

"Mary Wilson?"

I shot up in my seat, startled that he said my name. How did he know my name?

"Yes, Professor Jackson?"

He laughed. "Good to see that you're here, Miss Wilson."

He called out the next name on the attendance roster as I leaned back in my seat, feeling my face light itself on fire.

"Olivia Young?"

"Present!" She beamed. "I'll be your present, Professor Jackson." She then mumbled to Claire, who let out a loud laugh.

"Ladies, quiet please." Professor Jackson said, his perfect eyebrow arched at them.

"Sorry, Professor." They apologized at the same time, sounding like clones.