Nothing To Lose [A Teacher/Student Love Story]

Nothing To Lose [A Teacher/Student Love Story] 6

"Ms. Montgomery, please stop that."

"Why?"

"Because it's irritating."

I frowned. "Mr. Stone--"

He closed his hand over mine, causing me to stop drumming my fingers on my desk while he graded my derivative sheet.

"Hmm." he mumbled, clamping his lips together and running a finger along one of the problems.

After a while, he added, "This one. That's wrong."

I followed his finger to the fourth problem, then frowned slightly. "Are you sure? Because if--"

"I'm sure," he responded firmly, chuckling. "I'm the teacher, Amanda. I'm positive."

Sighing, I put a hand on my forehead and began scribbling the work on my graph paper. I paused, noticing I was going in the same direction as I was when I had my previous answer, which, according to Mr. Stone, was wrong.

The second time around, I got the same answer as I did before. Frustrated, I flipped my pencil over and erased all my work. Was I doing the problem wrong?

Of course I was. Me, being terrible at math.

I focused clearly on the problem, which I was sure I knew.

y = (lnx)/(ln3). Find y.

I shut my eyes in frustration.

"Y..." I muttered under my breath, then began scrawling numbers across the graph paper.

"Mr. Stone," a squeaky voice said.

I turned my head towards the doorway, where two freshman girls were standing, giggling quietly and nudging each other in the ribs.

Mr. Stone's head snapped towards the girls, then softened into a smile. "Hi, Abby, Becca."

The girl who I assumed was Abby, took a step forward. "We had a question about--"

"The problem you gave us yesterday for--" Becca continued, frowning.

"Homework, because we didn't quite understand--"

"How two integrals--"

I rolled my eyes, acknowledging that they were fighting over who gets to talk to the teacher. To Mr. Stone, more specifically. All freshman girls were fawning all over him, but obviously they were too young for even Mr. Stone. We're talking 14 year old girls, falling over a 22 year old guy.

Mr. Stone nodded, then gestured them in. So he was actually friendly with everyone. My shoulders sagged, then tensed as soon as I realized I was feeling a bit disappointed he was friendly with everyone. I laughed internally. It’s not like Mr. Stone favored me over others. Me, I was getting so cocky, I thought he did. I mean, Mr. Stone, he’s a teacher. He—

“Amanda,”

I looked up sheepishly at Mr. Stone, then tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah?”

“Do you know where Mrs. Dunworth’s class is?” he asked, biting his thumb.

I didn’t actually, but I didn’t want anyone else to coincidentally know, so I replied dumbly, “Yeah.”

He handed me a yellow folder with permanent marker scrawled all across it in messy writing. “Can you give this to her?”

I took the file then looked back at the freshmen, who were frowning slightly at me.

“Oh, Abby and Becca.” Mr. Stone said suddenly. “You’re in Mrs. Dunworth’s third period class, right?”

“Yeah,” Becca snapped, looking angry that I was sent to give the file.