The Teacher Next-Door

Chapter Seven

I didn't want to, but I spilled everything to my mom. How Claire had been treating me since the two of us became friends, how she constantly stalked my social media to see who I was hanging out with, and how I had feelings for Gavin but she totally disregarded them and always rubbed their relationship in my face. My mother didn't have anything to say; she just shook her head and sighed throughout the entire conversation.

I was still trying to piece together why Claire felt the need to attack me. I'm assuming it was because of the little outburst I had at lunch today, but that still doesn't justify her reasoning to attack me at my front door.

At first, I was hurt at the fact that I had just lost one of my best friends— but now? I was fucking pissed. If she wanted to fight dirty, then I was more than ready to kick her ass again.

After this very long and traumatic day, I figured that it would be nice to set myself up with a relaxing bath, topped off with lavender epsom salts from Bath & Body Works.

As the water was filling the tub, I twisted my dark hair into a pathetic top-knot and blasted my Spotify playlist. In the middle of screaming along to a Paramore song, the music stopped and Michelle's face lit up my phone. I slid my finger across the glass screen and held it to my ear.

"What's up?"

"So," Michelle started. "You might want to check Facebook."

I could feel my bushy eyebrows furrowing and my heart suddenly thumping against my rib cage. "Did that bitch post something again?" I said through clenched teeth.

"Claire? Not about you, but— just check Facebook." She sighed.

I pressed the speaker button and opened the Facebook app, with Michelle's breathing in the background. "So what am I looking for exactly?"

"Go to her page."

I attempted to pull up Claire's page, but of course, the bitch blocked me.

I let out an amused laugh. "I'm blocked."

Michelle laughed right along with me. "Okay, I'll just send it to you. It's crazy."

I found myself impatiently waiting for the picture to pop up in my messages. Finally, after a few grueling seconds, the picture went through. With Michelle still on the other end of the line, I opened the message.

"What the fuck."

It was a picture of Claire in Professor Jackson's kitchen, his back towards her.

Claire Martinez

Those late school nights <3

Why was he hanging out alone with her? I know he was not much older than us but I thought he had some fiancé, Theodora, or whatever— and he watched her attack me earlier. Why would he want anything to do with her?

I had an eerie feeling that I couldn't seem to shake. Professor Jackson was definitely gorgeous, no one could deny that, but even looks wouldn't change the fact that he was no longer on my good side. Hopefully my mother would see that he's shady and stop trying to cougar her way into his life.

Claire could have him, she could have Gavin for all I cared, but she would never be able to have control over me again.

~

"BEEP!"

"Mom, stop. I'm up!" I groaned, pulling my pillow over my face.

She laughed, clearly pleased with herself. "Hurry up. You're going to be late to class." She closed my door, still laughing as her heels clicked down the wooden hallway.

After a few minutes of a second-round of sleep, I sat up in my bed and rubbed my eyes. The thought of going to school and dealing with a bunch of teenagers who perceived me to be some slut, while being in the same room as Claire, made my blood boil. I wanted nothing more than to stay curled up in my bed, sobbing as I watched The Fault in Our Stars. It was my freshman year of college though; I had to show up.

I dragged my feet out of bed and into my bathroom, squinting as the bright light hit my face. I yawned as I squirted whitening toothpaste on my overly used, and clearly old, pink toothbrush. I began brushing my teeth in silence, not even in the mood to jam out to my morning playlist on Spotify— that's how much this whole Claire drama was weighing on me.

After I had finished with brushing my teeth and my typical morning skincare routine, I threw my hair up in a messy bun, then proceeded to apply dark eye shadow to my lids, topping it off with a red matte lipstick. I puffed air through my bright, full lips as I looked at myself in the mirror, then smiled at my unusual appearance.

After finishing my makeup, I rummaged through my closet, searching for the perfect outfit. I decided on a cropped Guns N' Rosses t-shirt (yes Rosses; it was from Ross' sixteenth birthday party), a black leather mini-skirt, fishnet tights, and some Doc Martens to top it off.

Content with my new, edgy look, I skipped down the wooden stairs and sashayed over to the coffee maker, noticing a full pot of freshly brewed coffee. Thankful that my mom had already prepared the morning coffee, I poured more than half the pot into my aqua-colored thermos. As I was dumping an unhealthy amount of cream and sugar into my coffee, I heard a male voice coming from the dining room.

I truly wanted to believe that whoever was in the dining room was my dad, but come on, it had been three years since he had stepped foot in this house, so I had a good guess as to who it was.

I peeked into the dining room, my thermos warming the skin on the inside of my hand, and felt my eyes roll so hard that I thought they were going to be stuck in the back of my head.

Professor Jackson was all smiles and giggles, sitting across from my blushing mother, whose face was a deeper red than the fiery depths of hell, with cups of coffee in their hands.

What did this man— this annoyingly gorgeous and sexy man, want from us?