Can I Help You, Mr. Styles? (Zarry AU)

Ch. 6 - Tutor?

A/N: Hey Guyss <3  tell me if you like it.

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Zayn

So it's been a week since I started ignoring Mr. Styles. Ignoring his lust-filled looks, ignoring how he'd subtly come over to my desk and pretend he was helping me just so he could touch my hand and ignoring all the little things he'd do in an attempt to catch my attention. I even blatantly rejected him once.

I had blanked out one day in his class while writing and when I looked around while taking a break from my work, there were only about 5 students left in the classroom and they were all packing up. I quickly started putting my books in my bag and when I looked around again I saw that the last student had left. Mr. Styles was still sitting at his desk looking down at his papers.

But when I had finished packing up my things and was slinging my bag over my shoulder, I heard a click.

I turned toward the door to see it closed and Mr. Styles leaning against it, his arms crossed, staring at me.

I gulped, gripping the shoulder strap on my bag, averting my eyes from my teacher's when Mr. Styles pushed off of the door with his foot and started towards me.

All I could hear was the dull, click clacking of Mr. Styles' ankle boots as it got louder with the closing distance.

As I looked down I could see his feet come into view as he stopped walking. I looked up slowly and immediately wished I didn't. He was giving me this...look. There was a height difference so he had to look down at me, especially because of the close proximity. He just looked dangerous and troubled and angry--albeit sexy, but that's not the point.

I brought up my mental and emotional wall and just asked with a blank expression.

"Is there a reason I'm being held back, sir?"

He didn't answer. Just kept staring at me and it was a good minute of just us standing in silence with his concentration solely on me before he breathed out for a long time while closing his eyes.

When he opened them again, he gave me a weak and tired smile before reaching out and holding my forearms in his unnaturally huge hands.

"Did I do something?" He asked softly.

I furrowed my eyebrows. I didn't understand. I'd gotten so used to ignoring Mr. Styles that I didn't think anything was different than how it used to be. Then my facial muscles relaxed and my eyes widened in realization. He meant our..."relationship", if I could even call it that.

I just cleared my throat and looked down again.

I felt his hands tighten on my forearms, but he didn't say anything about my lack of response.

Then after a few seconds of silence, he slotted my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted my head up.

"Look at me."

I didn't. I just nudged my head out of his hands and put my hand on my shoulder strap again, brushing past him and walking away, swiftly swinging the door open, walking out.

At the time I thought the fear of getting caught over powered my feelings for my teacher, so I decided to play it safe.

Eventually... He gave up.