Tasting the forbidden fruit

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William Roberts-Adam Levine

Adam Roberts-Jeremy Irvine

Jake Wellington-Harry Styles

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

WILLIAM

Alma arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Is that so? I thought life was just a much lighter version of the Tartarus."

Ramona kicked her under the desk, making Alma wince. "Stop it, Ramona!"

At hearing such noteworthy name, a falling-at-the-verge-of-sleep Adam, peeked through one eye to see to whom such outstanding name belonged to.

Adam beamed, waving at Ramona. Except that she'd told him her name was Rosie, not Ramona. Adam let his hand fall, a frown lacing his brows together in confusion, until it dawned to him she'd lied to him.

It was fair, they were total strangers, but it didn’t diminish the stung of hurt in his gut. Sighing deeply, Adam returned to his sleeping-in-class posture and closed his eyes. Jake Wellington's eyes scanned the occupied desks, hoping and failing to find Lola. 

Will smiled at her astute response. "Fair point well made, Miss…"

Alma smiled sweetly at him, pretending not to know him the way only a greatly experienced trickster could. "Matthews, Alma Matthews. Professor Williams." She added with disdainful tone.

Was she mad at him?  It wasn't as if he'd lied to her or anything like that.

And how could he if they were making out and mostly he was consoling her?

So he aimed for another tactic, one it never failed him.

He flashed a perfect, heart-stopping smile. "Miss Matthews, " he said, bowing his head a little, as if in a way of greeting.

The tone of his voice evidently husky and throaty. It was a bad sign, he realized with alarm, it was the kind of voice he used while seducing.

Did it mean that he liked her?

She was a good make out, an excellent, unforgettable one.

It'd been as if the world's axis had shifted somehow, for an instant at least.

His smile vanished as he realized with vexatious disappointment, that he was the tutor and she the pupil.

And she was in a Sophomore class, did it mean she was sixteen?

Oh no, it can't be, she doesn't look like a sixteen-year-old, I wouldn't have kissed her if I would have known this.

And now that I know I am  attracted to her, I internally castigate myself.

I can't like a teenage girl.

NO, I can't.

This isn't right.

And the intensity of last night's kiss.

I almost depraved her.

Though she did kiss me with deviance.

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