Hooked ~A Student/Teacher Love Story~

Chapter 3

Sorry I haven't updated recently!  School just started up again, and I've been really busy.  It's going to be difficult to keep Wattpad as up-to-date as Quizilla, because the chapters on Quizilla are separate and shorter than these.... Please don't hate me!  Anyway, enjoy!  

Evan Pearce AKA Alex Gaskarth is featured in the picture to the right.  ---->  Feast your eyes; I know I am.  ;3

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I stood there like an idiot, at a complete lost of words.  Some logical, functioning part of my brain told me to stop gawking and invite him in.  I obeyed that part, still not over the shock of finding my English teacher on my doorstep.  I also (absently) called my mother over to meet him.  Mr. Donnals flashed her a heart-melting grin and offered his hand for her to shake.  I secretly wished I could touch his hand... and then hated myself.  I mean, how creepy and stalker-ish does that sound?  I'm jealous of my mother because my hot English teacher shook her hand and not mine.  Wow.  How sad can I get?

“Hi. Gerard Donnals, your new neighbor. I just finished unloading the moving truck and figured I’d stop by and introduce myself,”  the man said, still beaming.

My mother gave him her most pleasant smile and shook his hand. “I’m Teresa Lawson, and this is my daughter, Stella.”

“I know. I’m actually teaching your daughter’s English class. We met earlier today.” He then looked down at me, still smiling. “Bet you weren’t expecting me to be your neighbor. Life’s funny that way, isn’t it?”

Does it look like I’m laughing? I thought glumly.  Beth was going to be so annoying about this when she found out.  She’d probably try to bribe me to take pictures whenever he mowed his lawn shirtless.  I wiped my face and sighed at the thought.  Beth could be considered a certifiable stalker when it came to gorgeous guys like Mr. Donnals.

Whoa, Nelly.  Did I really just think that?  Oh God.  She was rubbing off on me.

Mr. Donnals is your teacher, I reminded myself sternly. Even if he is attractive, there’s no use having “thoughts” about him.  It’s just false hope.  Really pointless, torturous, false hope.

 

“Stella?”

I blinked and looked up at my teacher and mother, who stared at me expectantly.  “Sorry, could you repeat that?” I asked, having completely missed whatever conversation had just occurred.

“Your mother invited me to eat with you. Is that okay? It’s not too awkward or anything, what with me being you teacher, is it?”

“Oh, no,” I replied, only because my mother would’ve murdered me in my sleep if I said anything else. “Not at all.”

“Excellent,” he declared. “What are we having?”

Mom and I led him to the kitchen/dining room, where he took Dad’s seat.  I tried hard not to flinch when he sat there so casually, but I’m pretty sure some reaction got onto my face.  Mom dished him out some green beans, unaffected by this thievery, and allowed him to get his own chicken.  She shot me a look that clearly said "Be polite," and then resumed her glowing smile when Mr. Donnals spoke.