Lesson Learned {Student Teacher Romance}

Chapter 5

My shift at the diner is easy, but then again, weekdays usually are. On my break or when there's a lull, I sketch birthday dress ideas in my notebook.

I want to create a bandage dress that fits my curves like a glove with a delicate keyhole that shows a hint of tasteful cleavage. I don't like bars because I saw how those places enabled my mom's addictions, but I liked the idea of showing off my dresses with my stunning bestie for a night of dancing. 

Even better, I had an English class with Mr. Benedict to look forward to that evening. 

My mom was still in her strangely chipper mood when I stopped by the house to grab my bookbag before school. She even wished me luck as I changed out of my uniform and threw on an outfit that would be warm enough for the rainstorm we were about to have.

By the time I reached campus, big fat raindrops were pelting the windows of the bus as the storm clouds edge out any of the emerging moonlight. 

On days like this, I usually feel perpetually cold and soggy, but tonight, a strange ripple of excitement tickles my belly when I walk into class. 

Mr. Benedict is already at the front of the room writing out a list in his graceful loping penmanship and the room is snuggly warm. In fact, the radiators fogged up the windows, that, or every woman in the room was so hot for teacher that we were creating a makeshift sauna. 

Everybody was dressed to impress, too. 

Keira arrived a few seconds later and settled into the seat next to me. 

"How come everyone looks like they're auditioning for some trashy reality show?" She quips with a feisty glint in her eye. "I mean, it's raining outside!"

I'm about to deliver a pithy remark only to be interrupted by Mr. Benedict's silky baritone.

"Hello everyone. I see we all made it out tonight despite the rain."

A chorus of giggles erupts in response to the puckish smile splitting his squared jaw.

"A heads up," he continued pointedly. "This weekend you will be writing your first essay for this class. It will be easy. First assignments always are if you stick to the topic and the formatting outlined in my syllabus-"

"How does that man manage to look like an Armani model in elbow patches?" Keira whispers under her breath. 

"Right?" I murmur. 

"I mean, for a teacher," she continues, "Mr. Benedict can get it."

An errant giggle escapes my lips and almost immediately I can feel Mr. Benedict's dark eyes on me.

"Something funny?" He asks, his voice not nearly as curious as his question.

"Nope," I answer as a blush flares under my oversized flannel shirt to scorch my face.

"No please, it must be a good joke if it's worthy of distracting your neighbor," Mr. Benedict presses.

I hate being the center of attention. My hands shake and my heart jumps into my throat and I can't control my sweat glands. 

I gulp a quick breath and swallow the lump forming in my throat.

A few of the girls turn around in their seats, their faces riddled with disapproval at my silence.

"Fine, perhaps next time you'll share what's so humorous," Mr. Benedict says with a dry smile. "As I was saying, Mercutio's Queen Mab speech perfectly encapsulates the notion that dreams are a reflection of one's own personal desires and passions, not the fates we imagine for ourselves..."