After Class

Chapter One: The New Mr. Blackwood

The late August sun blazed through the classroom windows, casting long shadows across empty desks. Samantha Wilkins slipped into her usual seat in the third row, earlier than necessary for first period. The familiar scent of chalk dust and fresh floor polish filled the air – telltale signs of a new school year at Preston Academy.

She pulled out her worn leather journal, more for comfort than any real intention to write. The whispers had started yesterday: a new English teacher was replacing Mrs. Davidson, who'd retired after twenty years. But it wasn't just any replacement – according to Jessica Martinez, who worked in the administrative office, he was young. Attractive. Single.

Sam rolled her eyes at the memory of the girls clustering in the hallway, their excited chatter echoing against metal lockers. Yet here she was, fifteen minutes early, pretending not to care.

The click of dress shoes against linoleum made her freeze. Heavy footsteps approached, different from Mrs. Davidson's characteristic shuffle. Masculine. Confident. Sam kept her eyes fixed on her journal, heart suddenly racing.

"Good morning," a deep voice cut through the silence. "You're here early."

Sam looked up, and for a moment, everything stopped. Mr. Blackwood stood at the front of the room, setting a leather messenger bag on the desk. He was tall – taller than she'd expected – with dark hair that held just a hint of silver at the temples. His charcoal gray suit was impeccably tailored, but what caught her attention were his eyes: intense, intelligent, and the deepest shade of green she'd ever seen.

"I... I like being early," she managed, hating how her voice wavered. "Less chaotic."

He smiled, and something in her chest tightened. "A kindred spirit, then. I'm Mr. Blackwood." He extended his hand, and Sam hesitated before standing to shake it. His grip was firm, professional, but there was something electric in the brief contact.

"Samantha Wilkins," she replied, proud that her voice remained steady this time. "Everyone calls me Sam."

"Well, Sam, since you're here early, would you mind helping me write the syllabus on the board? Mrs. Davidson left rather detailed notes about where each class left off last year."

She nodded, grateful for something to do with her hands. As she wrote on the board, she could feel his presence behind her, reviewing papers at his desk. The silence should have been uncomfortable, but instead, it felt charged with possibility.

Other students began filtering in, their chatter dying down as they noticed Mr. Blackwood. Sam returned to her seat, watching as Jessica's predictions proved true – every girl who walked in did a double-take, and even some of the boys seemed impressed.

"Good morning, everyone," Mr. Blackwood addressed the now-full classroom. His voice commanded attention without effort. "I'm your new English teacher, and yes, I know I'm not Mrs. Davidson." A few nervous laughs scattered through the room. "But I hope by the end of this year, you'll find that change isn't always a bad thing."

His eyes swept across the classroom, pausing fractionally on Sam. She felt the weight of that glance like a physical touch.

"We'll be starting with 'The Great Gatsby,'" he continued, turning to write on the board. "A story about ambition, forbidden love, and the dangers of obsession. But before we dive in, I want to hear your thoughts on why we still read classics like these. What makes a story timeless?"

Sam's hand rose before she could stop herself. Mr. Blackwood nodded in her direction, that same slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Because human nature doesn't change," she said, surprising herself with her conviction. "The clothes and cars and technology might be different, but love, desire, jealousy – they're the same now as they were then."

Something flickered in Mr. Blackwood's eyes – approval, interest, or perhaps something else entirely. "Excellent observation, Ms. Wilkins. The universality of human experience..." He turned back to the board, writing 'HUMAN NATURE' in bold letters. "That's exactly what we'll be exploring this year."

As he launched into his introduction to the curriculum, Sam found herself studying his movements, the way his hands gestured as he spoke, how his presence seemed to fill the room. She should have been taking notes, but instead, she was noticing how his wedding finger was bare, how his eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled, how he had a habit of running his hand through his hair when he was thinking.

The bell rang too soon, startling Sam out of her observations. As students began packing up their things, Mr. Blackwood called out reading assignments for tomorrow. Sam deliberately took her time gathering her books, watching from the corner of her eye as he erased the board, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms.

"Ms. Wilkins?" His voice stopped her at the door. She turned, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. "Thank you for your help this morning."

"Anytime, Mr. Blackwood." The words came out softer than she intended, almost like a promise.

As she walked to her next class, Sam could still feel the phantom pressure of his handshake, could still see those green eyes studying her. She knew, with a certainty that should have frightened her, that this year would be different. Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.

One thing was clear: Mr. Blackwood was nothing like Mrs. Davidson. And Sam's life was about to become far more complicated than she'd ever imagined.