Bitter Sweet Blaire: Teacher/Student Romance

Chapter Twenty

A/N: Hello there, I'm back with a new update! Sorry for the wait but I'm sure you'll enjoy this still!

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20.

School today was, essentially, a state of standstill for me--as far as logic and self control went. And by standstill, I meant on the brinks of nonexistence. And this partially had everything to do with Christian, who was standing right in front of me.

"As if it isn't enough to waste class time," Christian stated, "you've come to waste my time, too." He wore dishevelled like Armani. Unkempt hair, lopsided smile, husky voice. Dressy clothes still A class, though. In a town like this, it was considered civil disobedience if you didn't. Dishevelled wasn't his usual attire, though.

On any other day, my socalled 'logic' would be spinning a smartass response. Right now, though, my brain was using it to work out the fastest path to his mouth. At this, I looked down at my watch, but as a distraction. I couldn't think straight when the afternoon sun was spilling over his stubbled cheeks like it was. That was so not fair.

"I have somewhere to be," I told him, because this much was true. "Actually, I'm already late. I just had something to ask you."

"You skipped my class today," Christian said, not dropping the matter. He turned to Caroline. "You, too."

"Yeah, sorry about that," I responded. "But look, I brought you coffee. That was kind of a nice thing for me to do, wasn't it?"

Christian narrowed his eyes, suspicious. I marched over to his desk, going right around so that I was standing beside the stall that he was sitting on. He took the coffee very apprehensively and placed it on the very little, free space his desk currently possessed. School hours had reached their end and he was stuck grading papers apparently.

"Jeremy's calling me, I'll wait outside, Blaire," Caroline said. Christian waited until the door had closed behind her to speak.

"You want something." He shifted on the stall so that he was facing me.

I placed a hand on his knee, making his posture stiffen and his jaw peak upwards. It seemed to say: you're really doing this right now? "And what do I have to do to get that something when I'm going to need it later on?"

Christian looked away for a second, then nodded his head towards where my hand was placed. "You know, most students ask their questions from the other side of the desk. That works too. Don't you think this is morally conflicting?"

"Not if you lack perception." He laughed, but spitefully. "And I'm not most students."

"Still, do you want to take your hand off my knee, please."

"What's in it for me?"

"Blaire," he chastised, agitated.

Deciding that my current battle plan was getting me quite literally nowhere, I started improvising. And what I came up with could only be down to improvisation, because if I gave it enough thought I wouldn't have done it. It was abrupt. Which was just what I needed.

Picking up a glass of water that was resting on the corner of his desk, I tipped it so that it cascaded down, down, down; soaking Christian's pants from about the knee to the crotch. You could say he was too stunned to move, because he was. "My bad," I said. "I'm such a clutz."

"Why the hell did you do that?" he exclaimed, throwing his legs further apart and looking about the room, probably for something he could use to dry his pants with.

"I got it," I told him, reaching for a teatowel that was laying on a desk and reducing my standing position to one of kneeling.

"Blaire, I'm pretty sure I can do this myself. You should go."