How to Get Caught Sleeping With Your Teacher

Chapter 2 - Apollo

The bell marking the beginning of class rang, and Mr. Gillian stood from his desk. He walked to what he thought was the middle of the classroom and looked the class over, his eyes once again pausing on me. 

"Hello everyone." His voice beamed through the room in a way to try and sound intimidating but failed slightly.

"My name is Mr. Gillian, and I'm going to be your sociology teacher for this semester." He spoke softer this time, and attempted to smile as he did so. The girls in the class cooed at the sound of his name against his own lips. I felt myself rolling my eyes at their attraction to his better than average looks. Okay, so maybe he was a little more than better than average, he was hot. Even as his first day here, I could tell he was going to be the teacher everyone swooned after.

"So before I start off into a boring speech about myself, I'm required to check everyone's schedules to make sure you're all in the right class. I know most of you are juniors, and can figure out how to read a room number on a piece of paper, but it's just a precaution." He said. "You guys can just chat among yourselves." He added before walking over to his desk to pick up a clipboard with what I presumed was a roster of our names on it, and a highlighter. The class ticked off into a state of meaningless chatter. Various voices raised and lowered in spots throughout the classroom.

I turned to Thomas, who was fiddling with his unpolished and guyish thumbs. I eyed the thin line of dirt consecutively underneath each of his nails and cringed. Thomas launched off into a rant about how school lunches didn't meet the necessary calorie requirement for good health. I maintained manners and kept nodding and smiling at his complaints, but I was lost in the abyss of my dark and growing thoughts that swarmed my brain like rampant bees.

Thomas's rant must have lasted longer than I thought it did though, because I was snapped out of my thoughts by Mr. Gillian's tall frame towering over my desk. He'd apparently already snaked his way through the desks by his own and made his way over to my desk on the opposite side of the classroom. He grinned down at me politely and I returned the gesture.

"You failed to mention you were going to be in one of my classes." He said softly.

"Must've slipped my mind." I teased playfully.

Gillian paused. "Well, I never did catch your name." He said.

"Nikita Kasai." I said royally looking up at him.

He eyed me for a moment and looked back down at his roster. He searched for a while and presumably skipped over it a few times before his eyes lit up when he found it. He popped off the cap of the neon highlighter and highlighted my name.

"And if I could just see your sched--" he started but I cut him off by handing him my schedule mid sentence.

"Ah yes, thank you Nikita." He spoke with a polite smile. I hated to admit it to myself, but I enjoyed the way he spoke my name softly but with confidence.

He started to walk past my desk to the next student, but halted himself and looked back down at me. "Your name, Nikita, is that Russian?" He asked, his voice without as much confidence as some twenty seconds ago.

I sighed quietly and nodded, unconsciously fluttering my eyes back and forth from the floor to his grey eyed gaze. I despised talking about my Russian heritage because it inevitably lead to other questions that I couldn't answer.

Gillian noticed my change in tone at the question and his eyes widened with regret. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I'm just too nosy sometimes." He said apologetically and promptly moved on to the next student. I couldn't help but wonder why he asked the irrelevant question. I questioned his own heritage in thought that he himself could possibly be Russian, but I knew the surname Gillian wasn't of the same origin.

About 10 minutes passed before he positioned himself to the front of the classroom again. I noticed him straightening out his outfit before he moved in front of the judging eyes of the hypocritical teenagers. He began to talk about himself, including various details about his personal and professional life. I could see his nerves practically popping through his clothes, hands shaking ever so slightly and his feet constantly changing their mind on which way to pace. When he asked for specific questions about himself, the girls in the class launched their limbs in the air drooling all over him. By the time he was done talking about himself, I'd taken away that he was 26, graduated from a full ride at Washington State University, played the piano and guitar, had two dogs, and had a girlfriend but wasn't married. The rest of the class was pretty textbook, he'd pretty much just discussed with the class what he did and didn't tolerate within the confines of his classroom.