Room 206 - Luke Hemmings

twenty-two

El and I walked to English Friday afternoon and I was looking forward to it. I was ready to start immediately getting on Hemmings' nerves and see what kind of reaction he would have towards me for that day.

I should really be afraid of getting detention all the time, and the effect it was going to have on my chances at getting into uni. The thing was, I didn't care because now that I'd realized that I had feelings for Hemmings, there was no going back and I'd already built myself this reputation with him. If I stopped now, no one would be there to keep him on his toes.

"And Shakespeare then wrote--"

"Hawthorne," I interrupted him, my chin in my left hand as I scribbled on my notebook. Though I had my head tilted down and he couldn't see me, I was smirking at the pause he took and the exasperated sigh I got in return.

"Hawthorne and Shakespeare were two completely different authors," I said. "How could you possibly get them mixed up like that?"

He practically rolled his eyes. "Watch it, Miss Williams, or you'll get detention. As I was saying before I was interrupted, Hawthorne wrote The Scarlet Letter because--"

I stopped listening, already knowing all of these things. I knew all this because I was always reading Hawthorne. Aside from Shakespeare, he was one of my all time favorite authors and I'd read so many of his novels so many times.

"If you want something a little bit more modern, I would suggest maybe reading some Mark Twain," he said, when I finally started listening again.

"Modern?" Someone scoffed. I almost laughed.

"Yes, modern," Hemmings blinked. "His novels are far less difficult to read than Shakespeare and Hawthorne."

"Mark Twain was born in the early 1800s," the student continued. "Professor, do you realize that was almost 200 years ago?"

I rolled my eyes.

"My grandma is older than Mark Twain's novels," I interrupted. "They are a piece of cake to read."

Hemmings scowled at me, and I looked back down at my notebook, smirking again. I heard El giggle a few seats away from me, probably silently cheering me on to keep roasting everyone.

"Williams, one more comment and I'll give you detention," he sighed, clearly frustrated but knowing that I was right and not wanting to admit to it.

"Yes sir," I said, imagining calling him that while he bent me over his desk.

He was obviously flustered all throughout class. He seemed on edge and quite distracted for how he usually is. I wondered if he was stressed.

Hmm, I know a good solution to that.

Daisy, stop.

"Miss Williams? A word please?" he said after class when he'd finally dismissed everyone and we were packing everything back up. I told Eleanor to go ahead and I'd meet her in a few minutes.

"Yes, Professor?" I approached his desk and looked up into those bright blue eyes I found myself not getting tired of looking into.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop correcting me all the time and let me teach my own class," he said.

I nodded. "Okay."

"I am the professor, I know how to teach these students of mine and although you are highly intelligent, as painful as it is for me to admit and boost your ego--" I smiled sweetly at him. "--it would really make my job easier if you'd back off and let me do the talking and teaching."