A Hundred Weddings [PUBLISHED]

Chapter Three: Bae of the Year

(Alex Pettyfer as Sir Jeremy)

CHAPTER THREE: BAE OF THE YEAR

Friday

            "Sir Jeremy is becoming more handsome every day, don't you think?"

             Ella giggles under her breath from her seat. I scowl at her and give her a 'shut-up' look. "Oh c'mon, everybody's talking about him either," she adds.

             I look at our teacher who is busy discussing numbers on the board.

             My eyes trace to his tall broad body, from his unruly dirty-blonde hair down to his glossy black shoes. His eyes are warm and serious.

             Nope, nothing new about him. I glance back to my friend who is busy daydreaming of our teacher. "Stop ogling over him or you'll have your own drool all over your desk," I say in a low voice. Yeah, I know he's handsome and tall and smart and almost perfect but that doesn't mean people can swoon all over him all day.

            "I'm not ogling, I'm just admiring," She defends herself. "I wonder if he already has a girlfriend or maybe a wife. I'm sure she's so lucky." She asserts, causing me to squirm in repulsion. I definitely doubt that.

          "Whoever that girl is, is so unlucky." I snort because clearly, he's a bossy type of lover.

          "Ms. Roberts and Ms. Summers, would you mind sharing your conversation with the class?" Sir Jeremy unexpectedly alleges. We just stare at him in embarrassment for a good ten seconds. He smirks. "I guess not. Kimberly Roberts, in my office after class," He orders making my jaw drop. What the heck is wrong with him?

           "But Sir!" I complain. This is so unfair.

          "Sir, I was talking too." Ella protests. You go, girl! We will endure this like sisters.

          "No buts" He warns and spins away from us.

          If looks could kill, the one I just shot him would probably have him six feet underground.

* * * * *

              Wow, I never thought Sir. Jeremy's office doorknob looks so shiny.

               And no, I am not using this beautiful doorknob as an excuse to not enter his office. Nothing's wrong with admiring objects.

            Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

           Why am I even talking to myself?

            Ugh, I'm so pathetic.

            I knock 3 times on the wooden door.

           Please don't be inside. Please don't be inside. Please don't be inside. I chant inside my head with each knock.

          "Come in." He answers. Oh well, there goes my prayer. I slowly open it, slightly thrusting my head, checking if it's safe.