Nothing To Lose [A Teacher/Student Love Story]

Nothing To Lose [A Teacher/Student Love Story] 15

“Welcome to my home.”

“I’ve seen it before,” I muttered as I pushed past Mr. Stone and into his cramped apartment. I stopped, two steps into the living room. “Where are the books?”

He shrugged, eyebrows raised. “Wanted to make things more organized.”

“But—“

“Something wrong with that, Amanda?” he asked playfully.

I ignored him and instead made my way onto his couch. I sat and crossed my legs, then gave Mr. Stone a look that I hoped looked intimidating. “Make me some lemonade.”

Instead of looking shocked, Mr. Stone burst out laughing.

I arched my eyebrows, embarrassed. “What?”

“You expect me, your teacher, to make you lemonade, while you’re staying at my house?”

“Well you expected me to make you tea while you were at my house.” I shot back.

“So?” the signature smirk failed to leave Mr. Stone’s face, which annoyed me even more.

“Treat others the way you wanna be treated!” was all I could manage to blurt out.

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“Maybe you should be treated the same way!” I exclaimed. “Now go make me some lemonade!”

“Alright, alright,” he finally said, holding his hands up in surrender as he entered the kitchen.

I mumbled to myself under my breath and waited for my lemonade to come.

“Amanda.” Mr. Stone called. “I’m out of lemons.”

“Go buy some!” I suggested.

He appeared next to me. “And leave a pretty girl at my house, alone?”

“Yeah.” I answered. “So what?”

“You never know what your student can do while at your house.”

“Like what?”

“You could sneak into my bedroom, peek at your homework, and give yourself an A plus.” He supplied.

I opened my mouth to protest, but he kept on going.

“You could make a copy of your report card with all straight A’s. You could make a copy of your friends’ report cards with all straight A’s. You could make a copy of your enemies’ report cards with all straight A’s. You could—“

“Okay!” I interjected. “I get it! Fine!”

“Or, you could come to the grocery store with me.”

I shifted my legs underneath me. “No thanks. You got any popcorn?”

“The microwavable kind?”

“That’ll have to do,” I responded, trying to sound like I was in charge.

While the popcorn was being microwaved and Mr. Stone was off in his bedroom doing whatever, I looked through the movies and DVDs stored under the television set.

My finger lingered on the romantic comedy Letters to Julliet. It was my by far, favourite movie of all time. I had watched it 16 times.

I shifted the DVD out of the cover and put it in the slot in the VCR set. It made that whirring noise, and the TV blinked to life.