Illegal Love

~ Chapter 6 ~

"So can anyone tell me what the character was trying to prove here?" Mr. Styles says at the front of the classroom. I totally lost all hope in actually focusing in his class. How could a girl focus with a guy like him standing a ruler apart from her?  

No one responds. Not a single hand is risen. Typical day in English class. Nobody in this class ever participates.  

Mr. Styles lets out a huge sigh, mixed with agony and disgust. He mutters quietly, "Of course not."  

I knew from the minute he walked in the classroom that he was in a pissy mood. When he's mad he walks really quickly and throws his stuff on the desk. He constantly runs his hands through his brown hair. Today was no exception. This was probably the worst mood I had ever seen him in. It was like angry, stressed, and frustrated all mixed into one. But mostly angry. 

He turns around and faces the board. I see his shoulders go up and then down, taking a big gulp of air. Still facing the board he says, "I don't get it."  

After a long silence, he finally turns around. His huge hands are placed on his hips and he scans the room, as if he were a wild animal hunting for prey. He looked really mean and mad and kind of scary. 

"I guess you guys don't care, do you? I'm here teaching you, and I constantly receive incomplete homework, marks all over the page, and I'm tired of giving detentions!" He says, angrily. His voice boomed around the room, getting louder with each sentence. He was shouting now. 

"You guys have to work with me here! I'm doing the best I can to help you out and none of you care! Except maybe six people! SIX!" I automatically think of my tutoring group. I guess we were off the hook. Mr. Styles aggressively hits the white board with his fist and a loud bang rings out. I can't help but wonder if that was what he did to his bed frame while having his climax. He then takes a deep breath and closes his eyes while letting it out. He keeps them closed for a few seconds and opens them. His eyes are a dark green, not happy looking at all. Mr. Styles slowly walks over to his desk.  

"I'm going to give you a packet. A twenty page review of what we've been discussing so far in the year. It will be due... Let's say... Friday," he says. Friday?! That was in two days! There was no way I was going to finish this in two days! I had a lot of other work to do.  

Gasps went around the room and people gave Mr. Styles dirty looks. He didn't seem to care though, as he roughly threw the pile of packets onto Aaron's desk and told him to pass them out.  

"Unless you guys can get up your grades and actually participate in class, then you'll just be doing this every single day in my class," he says. What the heck?! How come I had to suffer these consequences?! I barely even knew what was going on in the book and Mr. Styles knew that. I had never been good at understanding literature.  

The class is quiet and Aaron hands me a packet. There were at least 35 questions per page. What the hell, Styles?  

I answer a few questions and skip some. A lot of them I just couldn't remember. I really wanted to ask Mr. Styles for help, but I was so afraid of him right now. Ever so quietly, while glancing at Mr. Styles, who is running his fingers through his hair (AGAIN), I turn around and tap Maria on the shoulder.  

"For number seven, what did you put?" I whisper. She seems a little startled at first and then looks at something behind me and looks quickly down at her paper. Her eyes go wide and she bites her lip. I hear footsteps walking closer to my desk and that could only mean one thing. Mr. Styles. Did he have a radar on me or something?!  

Before I turn back around in my chair, my entire desk moves with a bang. I gasp and turn straight forward. All I see are huge hands sprawled out on my table top, strong arms supporting them. I look up and see Mr. Styles face, an angry thundercloud, inches from mine. Oh god. I was in for it. I crouch down lower in my seat, cowering from him. As much as I wanted to be close to him, he was scary right now. 

"Gabriella," he whispers calmly, licking his lips and closing his eyes. He takes a long, deep breath. I think he does that to control his anger or something. I'm too afraid to say anything back so I just look into his deep green eyes. I have never seen them so dark in my life.  

"What have I told you about talking?" Mr. Styles says through gritted teeth. He purses his lips together. 

"To not to," I say, barely audible. I lightly bite my lip and crouch down lower in my seat. I fold my arms.  

"Right," Mr. Styles says, removing his hands from my desk. They leave a slight imprint of his fingers and I fight the urge to trace it or put my own hand on it to compare how much bigger his is than mine. He would get so mad.  

He stands about an inch away from my desk. "THEN WHY ARE YOU CONSTANTLY TALKING?!" He yells as a vein pops out the side of his neck. He puts his hands on his face and keeps them there for a while and then moves them off. He looks at me expectantly as if waiting for a response, but we both know damn well he isn't getting one. 

The class is absolutely silent, you could hear a pin drop. He taps his foot impatiently and puts his hands on his hips. I had no idea what to say. I was scared, if I said something, he would just scream in my face. But he wanted an answer and I knew he was willing to wait all class period for it. 

I take the safe way out and decide to just shrug my shoulders. Psh, safe my ass. 

He looks absolutely astounded and angry at the same time. I wasn't really sure what I did wrong but he informed me soon enough. 

"YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO TALK IN MY CLASS AFTER I HAVE REPEATEDLY TO YOU NOT TO AND THEN WHEN I ASK YOU A QUESTION YOU DON'T EVEN USE YOUR WORDS! I WANT AN ANSWER, GABRIELLA! NOT THIS," Mr. Styles screams in my face and does a little shoulder shrug. He was now back on my desk, hands and everything in the same spot. As he yelled, I could feel the puffs of his breath on my face. I couldn't help but imagine doing it with him and him getting close to his orgasm and breathing like that. Suddenly, I feel really turned on. I shake off the thought. 

"I don't know, Mr. Styles," I say, hoping that will do. Mr. Styles gives me a dagger. 

"Neither do I," He whispers angrily, and quick removes himself from my table.  

"I've got a new a seat for to you, Miss Gabriella," he says, walking over to his desk. He clears off a little section next to his big swivel chair and I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.  

"Tony, can you please bring me that chair in the corner?" He asks and Tony brings up a blue student chair, that was broken off a student desk. Mr. Styles positions it next to him, where there's no filing cabinet attached to the desk.  

"Here, Miss Henderson," He says, patting the blue seat. "This will be your new spot." Laughs go around the room and Mr. Styles motions with his finger for me to come over. I reluctantly take my books and slide them on his desk.  

Here I am, sharing Mr. Styles' desk with him. I heave a sigh and slide into my seat. Gwen tries to give me a sympathetic look but ruins it when she stifles a giggle. I give her a look and smile. Maybe this seat change wouldn't be so bad after all. I could still kind of see Gwen... And who am I kidding, I get to sit next to the hottest teacher in school! And smell him...  

Mr. Styles takes his seat beside me and clears his throat. "Now you can't talk to anyone but me," he whispers huskily into my ear. His breath hits my skin, leaving tingles around my ear. I just look at him in response.  

"Class! Quiet down or else you'll all have detention!" Mr. Styles yells and everyone shuts up. His voice was much louder when he was closer.  

I take out my pen and flip open my packet. The classroom looks weird from this angle. I could see everyone's face perfectly and everything they were doing. No wonder he always caught me talking.  

I focus on my questions. Well at least attempt to. But how the heck was I going to focus with Mr. Styles next to me? I could see him out of the corner of my eye, looking super hot as usual. He had his hand in his hair, holding up his head, while grading papers. His elbow almost touched my arm and I was constantly getting his smell in my nose. It was the best seat in the house.