My Teacher and I

Chapter Two

The person blocking the light is my Greek teacher, Mr. Harris, his face etched with anger.

"Do you need something, Mr. Harris?" I ask, leaning against the wall in an attempt to appear nonchalant.

"You think you can smoke on school grounds and leave my classroom without being dismissed?" he retorts, his voice laced with authority. He steps closer, placing both hands on the wall beside my head, trapping me in place.

"Sir, what are you doing?" I ask, uncertainty creeping into my tone.

His face goes past my face, and he whispers his hot breath on my ear

"You Brat will be having detention with me after school in my classroom" he says before biting the top of my ear almost sexually

He walks away, leaving me standing there, starstruck and frozen. Minutes pass before I snap back to reality and realize where I am. Shaking off the encounter, I head back into the building and make my way to English class. I sit down, tuning in as the teacher drones on about the topic for our next essay. Eventually, we're instructed to start writing, and I dive in, mostly to pass the time. I must have been lost in my writing for the entire class because the bell rings, jolting me from my focus. It's time for the next period—math, my last class of the day before I serve detention with Mr. Harris. Or, as I've come to think of him, Mr. Hottie. Math class was as dull as usual, filled with discussions about equations and trigonometry—topics we're constantly told are essential for life. I'm not convinced. I start heading to Mr Hottie's classroom before opening the door.

"Mr. Affleck, close the door, would you?" Mr. Harris says his voice firm as he rolls up his sleeves. He gestures for me to approach his desk.

"What would you like me to do, sir?" I ask, trying to gauge his mood.

"Well, ever since you first stepped into my classroom, you've been disrespectful and full of attitude," he says, his tone sharp.

"Can't help it," I say with a teasing smile, "I was born this way, and I especially grew into a sassy mouth." My tone is flirtatious, daring him to react.

And he does, react he pushed me up against the wall with his hand around my neck and slams his lips onto mind before I have time to react, he forces his tongue into my throat and I began slightly moaning as his tongue explores my throat before leaving my lips and attacking my neck. I snap back into reality and pushes him away

"Shit, what have I just done?" Mr. Harris mutters, his expression shifting as he backs away, clearly caught off guard by his own actions.

"Nothing, sir. I provoked you, and you simply reacted," I say confidently, holding his gaze. "But dare I say, I liked it."

Mr. Harris walks over to his desk and sits down, his demeanour visibly shaken.

"I'm sorry, Atticus. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what came over me, but you need to leave," he says, his voice low, avoiding eye contact.

Without a word, I turn and walk away. It's been a strange day, and I decide it's best to ignore Mr. Harris unless he speaks to me in class. That's where I'll draw the line.

I head to my car, unlock it, and toss my bag onto the passenger seat. Without hesitation, I start the engine and drive off, speeding down the road. Moments later, I slam on the brakes, honking at the car in front of me. To my surprise, it's Mr. Harris. Not wanting to waste any more time, I make a quick decision. Ignoring the rules, I swerve around him, illegally overtaking his car and speeding off ahead. With that, I continue driving down the road, focused on getting home.

I arrive home, parking in the driveway, and exit the car. Heading to the front door, I twist the knob and step inside, greeted by the familiar sounds of my parents in the kitchen preparing dinner and my brother lounging in the living room.

"So, how come you're late?" my mom asks, a hint of concern in her voice.

"Sorry, Mom, I was in the library studying and accidentally fell asleep," I lie, though she's none the wiser.

"At least you were safe," she says, satisfied, as she returns to cooking.

I head upstairs to my room and collapse onto my bed, pulling out my phone to scroll through Instagram. As I mindlessly scroll through my feed, I come across Mr. Harris's profile. His first name is Mathew. That is a hot and gorgeous name, I think to myself. Mom's voice calls out from downstairs, "Dinner's ready!" I rush down the stairs, grab my plate, and sit at the kitchen table. Mom asks about my day, and I give her a rundown of my new teacher and the usual details. Once I finish eating, I decide to head to bed early, hoping to leave for school earlier tomorrow—just to catch Mr. Harris before class starts.

*Beep Beep*

The sound of my alarm at 5 a.m. jolts me awake, but I don't waste any time. I quickly get dressed in my uniform, grab my bag and car keys, and head out, driving in the direction of the school. Once I park, I step out of the car and walk into the building, making my way to the Greek classroom. Inside, I see Mr. Harris sitting at his desk, his face twisted in frustration as he glares at some papers.

I walk in, quietly shutting the door behind me and locking it without a sound. Mr. Harris looks up, surprised to see me.

"Atticus, what are you doing here so early?" he asks, his voice strained.

"I came to see you," I reply, watching his reaction. "You seemed in a better mood yesterday, but clearly you aren't today. So, maybe I'm wasting my time. But if you want me to leave, you'll have to make me. If you do, I'll Walk out and never bother you again outside of class."

Mr. Harris's frustration becomes more visible. "Atticus, just leave before I do something I regret," he warns, his voice tense.

"I won't regret anything," I say confidently, stepping closer to him.

As I approach, he suddenly grabs me by the throat, pushing me roughly against the wall.

"Atticus, leave now! I don't want to hurt you," he says, his grip tight but shaky. After a moment, he releases me.

Tears well up in my eyes as I look at him. "It's too late. You've already hurt me—by rejecting me," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, I grab my bag and storm out of the classroom, heading straight to my car.

Once inside, I pull out my phone and call Toby, a friend from another school.

"Hey, Toby, I need a favour," I say, trying to steady my voice.

"What's up?" he asks.

"I need you to transfer to my school for me. I need your help with something," I explain.

"What kind of help?" he replies, sounding sceptical.

"I need your help to make someone I like jealous," I say with a mischievous grin forming.

"And what's in it for me?" Toby asks, intrigued.

"I'll do your Greek homework and help you study for exams," I offer.

"Deal," he says quickly.

"Good. Hurry up and get here," I say.

"I'll be at your school soon," he responds before hanging up.