Mr. McCartney

he liked to watch her leave

She walked like she had somewhere to be, long confident strides on long legs. Her hair flowed out behind her when she'd walk. Those who were around her either envied her, hated her, didn't pay mind to her, or degraded her. She found herself perplexed by the mixed signals she received from people. She was a girl easily labeled 'pretty' or 'stunning' even, though her mind was never curious about if she was attractive to anyone else or not. She liked her small self, being able to laugh at those who stuck up their noses in her direction. Her friends were content with being her friends, most of them annoyed with how everyone found her to be a unique girl, ignoring them when they saw her. Boys weren't always eager for attention, knowing perfectly well she wouldn't give it to them. She had had an in for him for the longest time. He liked to watch her leave the room.

He always wondered why it was he never saw her with a boy. He thought she was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. He could easily recall the day she walked into his room, the girl in front of her making a remark of how 'incredibly hot' this professor was. She noticed his hands clenching onto his own crossed arms, and he could only smile at her. He couldn't help but watch her find a seat and make herself comfortable. Words left him, and he stood in silence for a moment, looking at her once more before he introduced himself. He didn't know how he could handle her for an entire year. She was nineteen, a first-year student in his English class. Her name was Elizabeth.

When he was on his way to lunch one day she was sitting in the grass, with three boys trying to talk to her and one girl sitting with her. She ignored all of them and smiled at him as he walked by, him being shocked entirely. He had thought about her when he made love to his wife one night and never let himself forget it.

It wasn't as though she didn't want him to do any of that. The day she walked into his room she found him handsome, an incredibly unique man, with the best baby face full of lust she had ever seen. The both of them would exchange cheeky passes at one another, though they seemed harmless and playful, the both of them enjoyed it more than the other thought. She purposely began to slack at some points in the year, having to stay with him for a few hours a day for him to help her. There were moments when he had no choice but to be near her, to lean over her shoulder in his wool sweater, both of them warm with nervousness. He liked it as much as she did. Sitting across from her and watching her write down something; she liked the way he smelt, like aftershave and chimney smoke. In the warmer days they still felt a comfort in being near one another, though almost more anxious. One day he took it further and held onto her hand for a little too long, making her blush and change her attention. He once let his hand sit on her waist as he tried to explain something to her, but she didn't turn away, she only moved closer to him, making them completely touch one another. She fixed his collar for him one rainy day, commenting that he should look more like a professor and not one of his students. She remembered how hard he was breathing and how he stared out of the window instead of looking at her, though he wanted to.

Mr. Paul McCartney was embossed into a small plaque that he had set proudly on the edge of his desk. He told the story about how his wife had gotten it as a gift once. Every girl found him smooth and devilishly attractive, so no one was bored with his stories. His baby face paired with his dark beard always made his students watch him intently, and actually learn, since he was more than excellent at what he did. But Elizabeth hardly listened to the lessons he would belt out every day or even whisper about occasionally. She liked to watch him walk across the room, scratch at his beard, lean against his desk with his mouth in the shape of an 'o'. He was always up for a smile when he would see her eyes on him. He never wanted it to seem as though he was letting his attention fall to her most often, but there were days when he found himself losing his head and wanting to look at her instead of lecture.

There were times when girls Elizabeth knew of, or even some that took his class at different hours, tried to make a move on Mr. McCartney. The name Melanie Barnes was often whispered about among friends, the girl who led her professor's hand up her skirt. He was stern with her, having her run out of his room in tears, never for a second seeming as though he encouraged it or wanted it. He was questioned but the truth came out that it was Melanie's doing. Other girls still made mischievous passes at him, threw compliments at him any chance they could get, or always asked for his personal time for help with their papers. Elizabeth knew of all of this, mentally noting all of the things she witnessed him snicker or roll his eyes at. She learned more about him than the subject he taught.

It also perplexed her that the tall man's left hand was habitually barren of any wedding band. She could count the amount of times she had seen him wearing it, which she probably shouldn't be able to do. He never had it on at any time he would help her, but sometimes she would see him sneak it out of his pocket and slip it on in a quick movement. It wasn't like everyone didn't know, and taking the ring off didn't mean anything, he was a married man.

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Hiiiii. Sorry the end to the first part is kind of poo, the feel of the story just needed to be set up.