Lessons In Butterflies ｡ ｡ ｡ (StudentxTeacher Romance)

Chapter 42: A Hamster Named Einstein....?!

Shella's POV:

- The Next Day - 

The day felt off. I'd walked into school feeling like I had something to prove, but every glance, every whisper seemed louder than usual. Was it me? My hair? The way I'd done my eyeliner this morning?

I wasn't sure, but my stomach twisted as I approached my locker.

"Shella!" Juliet called, skipping up beside me. "Did you hear?"

"Hear what?" I asked distractedly, fiddling with the combination on my lock.

"About the staff party," she said, leaning against the row of lockers. "Apparently, it's this Friday, and Mrs. Thompson told me you're helping with the baking again."

"Yeah, I know," I replied. "She asked me yesterday."

Juliet gave me a sly grin. "And Mr. Caldwell's going, isn't he?"

I froze, my fingers halting on the lock. "So?" I mumbled, finally yanking the door open.

"Oh, so?" Juliet teased. "Don't act like I don't know what's going on. You've been blushing like crazy since this morning."

"I have not," I lied, pulling out my books and trying to ignore her piercing gaze.

"Sure, sure," she said, leaning closer. "By the way, Dani told me she saw you leaving the staff room late last night. Anything you want to share?"

"Absolutely not," I shot back, shoving my books into my bag and slamming the locker shut.

Juliet just laughed, but before she could say anything else, the warning bell rang, and we both headed to class.

--

Lunchtime couldn't come fast enough. I found a quiet corner outside, away from Juliet and Dani's prying questions. The air was cool, the faint scent of freshly cut grass helping to calm my nerves.

I took out my phone, scrolling mindlessly until it buzzed in my hand.

Message from: Mr Caldwell
"My office. Now."

My heart jumped, and I stared at the screen for a moment before typing back.

"Why?"

The reply came almost instantly.
"You know why, sweetheart."

I swallowed hard, glancing around to make sure no one was watching before standing up. The walk to his office felt like an eternity, every step making my pulse race.

When I finally reached the door, I hesitated. My hand hovered over the handle as I tried to steady my breathing.

Pushing the door open, I stepped inside.

He was there, leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. His tie was slightly loosened, and his expression was unreadable.

"You're late," he said, his voice low and teasing.

"I was eating lunch," I replied softly, shutting the door behind me.

His eyes softened, and he gestured for me to come closer.

"I got your note," he said, pulling the folded piece of paper from his pocket.

I blushed, biting my lip. "Was it... too much?"

"No," he said, his voice dipping. "But you're making this very hard for me, Shella."

"Making what hard?" I asked, stepping closer.

His gaze dropped to my lips, and he let out a slow breath. "Staying professional."

Before I could respond, he reached out, pulling me closer by the waist. His forehead rested against mine, and for a moment, neither of us said a word.