His Obsession

Chapter 1

"Here you go, Ms. Lancaster."

"Thank you," I said as I took the folded paper that contains my new classes and locker information.

Today is my first and last year at Amberwood High. My mom's job demanded her to move, now we are here. I'm trying my hardest not to break down. I was forced to leave everything behind: my friends, my old house, and my favorite places to relax. Amberwood is alien to me. I am not comfortable with this small town, it suffocates me. There's barely anything here. A few small shops and grocery stores, gas station, diners, houses and a church. Atleast, that's all I've seen. The main factor that makes me uneasy is the forest that surrounds this whole town. Thousands of tall evergreen pinetrees. I hope my mom finds another job.

I made my way out of the school's office and into the sea of students. Many heads turned in my direction. My hands gripped my notebook bringing it tightly closer to my chest. Many eyes landed on me. Whispers traveled one ear to another. I hate being the new girl. Fortunately, the bell rang. I felt less eyes on me. I made my way to room 16, my first class. Before I could open the door, a hand twisted the knob opening the door. My eyes wandered up to see a smiling senior. His hair was a dark mahogany color that matched his eyes.

"Ladies first," he said motioning to the door.

I felt my cheeks burning and quickly walked inside after whispering a thank you. Immediately, I sat down in the back corner. Everyone took their seats after the bell rang. My eyes scanned the room for the teacher, but failed to find them. Where are they?

"This class is going to be awesome!" A girl next to me said.

"I'm only taking this class because of Mr. Handsome. I hate poetry." She continued.

"Same! Unless he writes me poetry. " Her friend replied.

I shook my head in disbelief. They only took this class because they find the teacher attractive? How sad. Now we know who's going to fail this class. On the other hand, I like poetry. It's art in the formation of words. Poetry helps me express myself. It also has improved my writing skills.

The sound of the door filled my ears. Everyone suddenly became quiet. My attention was now focused on "Mr. handsome".

They were right. He is handsome. Ridiculously handsome. His hair consisted of a mixture of caramel and honey and was styled similar to David Beckham's. He had deep forest green eyes. He wore a white dress shirt with a black tie, along with a navy and gray cardigan that he can pull off. And he wore brown pants with white high top converse: classy.  He did not have one single wrinkle. He's perfect. 

"Excuse my tardiness, the printer jammed." His voice was deep and projected to the back of the class.

"I guess we won't be looking through the syllabus."

Everyone cheered in response.

"Since I don't have a back up plan let's get to meet one another." He said leaning against his desk.

"We will all take turns presenting our selves to the class. State your name, favorite color, hobby, and a fact about yourself. I will go first."

"Please do, handsome." A girl smirked along with her friends.

"Hello, my name is Mr. Cipriano. My favorite color is blue. Other than writing poetry, I like to sketch and play pool. A fact about myself is that I am single."

Girls sighed heavily and grew excited knowing that he is single. They squealed in joy and whispered about how they want to marry him. Instead of listening to their conversations I layed my head on the desk.