babydoll - luke hemmings

babydoll :: 05

"i don't fuckin' know what to do sophie!" i whisper to her.

"what do you mean you don't know what to do. just pay attention." she whispers back, jotting down whatever mr hemmings was writing down on the blackboard.

the thought of meeting mr hemmings after class has been clouding my mind ever since the start of lesson - i don't know how to look at him anymore. after all, i do see him in my dreams every single night.

i continue to stand from my seat, a so called 'punishment' for not completing my work. but, i'm not sure if this is can even be considered as a punishment to begin with. the view of mr hemmings is much better standing up.

his white button up sleeves were folded up, exposing his forearm as his back faces the class, writing down some math equations or some shit that i haven't bothered to understand. the sight of him makes my imagination run wild, and my knees almost buckle.

my brain almost wants to take a mental picture of him, just to save it for my fantasies that'd carry out in my dreams tonight.

my eyes linger on his arms, then they travel up to his fingers, and i almost lose it.

"miss evans?" his voice shakes me from my daydream.

"y-yes?" my eyes finally break away.

"do you intend on just day dreaming while standing there? or are you going to take this down?" he quirks an eyebrow at me, then folds his arms across his chest.

i try my hardest not to take note of the way his muscles flexed when he did so.

fuck. god, have mercy on me.

"u-uh of course. sorry." i stutter, fumbling with my pencil case as i take out a pen, aimlessly jotting down the numbers i saw on the blackboard.

he finally lowers his intense gaze on me, then continues with the lesson.

"get your shit together, isabelle. you're about to shit yourself!" pinky silently laughs at me, and my cheeks heat up.

"at this point i think it's better if i shit myself. i can't stand being in this lesson anymore." i look to mr hemmings to make sure that his attention is somewhere else before whispering back.

"do you think," pinky begins again, and leans in closer. "you'd be able to shoot your shot later?"

my eyebrows pull together and i shoot her a questioning look. what was she going on about?

"cmon, don't you want your dreams to become a reality?"

"you're being ridiculous."

"am i? you have the looks, the body, and the heart! plus, you're already eighteen." she raises her eyebrows suggestively, and i can't help but let my mind wonder about the possibility of that even happening.

it wouldnt be so bad, right?

"no, it wouldnt." pinky answers my thoughts, seeing right through me. am i that predictable?

"look, it's just a suggestion. and something you should consider." she shrugs, and then continues on with the lesson.

right. a suggestion.

—

"look, isabelle. i'm just going to get to the point," this deep voice sends shivers down my spine as he sets down the pile of worksheets on his desk. "you're not doing well in my class." he deadpans, his blue eyes burning holes into me.

i keep quiet as my brain looks for the right response, the right excuse for my bad grades. something other than "i'm doing shit in your class because i can't bare looking at you without my mind exploring the indescribable."

but my mind can't seem to find the right words, so i settle for the second best option, which was to just keep quiet as my head hung low. my eyes trained on my white shoelaces, it suddenly becoming the most interesting thing in the classroom.

i hear him let out a sigh, and the corner of my lips dropped as a slight frown took over my features.

"is there something wrong with my teaching?" he asks genuinely, linking his own hands together as he rests his elbows on the wooden desk in front of him.

he takes my silence as an indication to carry on. "do you not like me as your teacher?" he questions further. and with that my head snaps up and finally my dark brown eyes meet his.

it was only then i could see his face, for my eyes had only been glued to the floor, in extreme shyness and embarrassment. it was only then i could see the evident look of worry and confusion as his lips were slightly pouted and eyebrows pulled together.

the thought of disappointing him killed me, and i hated myself for causing such him such distress. he didn't deserve it. he was a great teacher, and he had no reason to think otherwise.

i almost want to reach over and hold his face in my hands to make his frown go away, and it takes me all of my willpower to refrain me from doing so. i stay put in front of his desk.

"no! no. that isn't it, mr hemmings." i finally find my voice.

"you're doing well in all of your other classes, isabelle. i checked with your other teachers and you seem to be doing fine. even scoring highest in your tests for history and literature, " the tension on his features loosens in the slightest. "so tell me. why my class?"

come on crystal, find your goddamn words.

"i guess i just don't particularly like maths." my mind decides that that was the best excuse i could come up with. it's better than nothing, i guess.

his lip purses, and he continues to stare at me, considering whether my answer was a valid enough reason.

"fair enough." he says, and i let out a breath of relief that i wasn't even aware that i was holding in.

"but, i'm going to need to find you a tutor. a study buddy if you will." he breaks eye contact with me as he starts digging through the worksheets on his desk.

"where's my phone?" i hear him mutter under his breath as he checks under his papers. he finally finds it hidden under his pencil case, and then unlocks it and starts jotting down something on a post it.

"here." he hands me the square neon yellow piece of paper.

my hand releases my own and i reach forward, ignoring the feeling that his hand brushing against my own gave me.

i look at it and i see numbers lazily written down on it.

"it's isaac's phone number. i figure he'll be able to help you with your work for now."

"isaac? as in, the isaac from our class?"

"the exact one. he's a great student, isabelle. he'll be of great help." the corners of his lips lift, showcasing the softest smile ever known to mankind.

oh my god.

"oh uh... thank you, mr hemmings." i shove the paper into my wallet, "sorry by the way, if i caused any trouble." i bit my lip, shocked at my new found confidence to even mutter a single word more.

"no problem at all." his then soft smile turning into a smirk, and i find myself scurrying to get out of the classroom before i embarrass myself even further.

—

a/n : sorry this took so long,, it's kinda shit 🤡 a bit longer than usual, though. hope this makes up for it 😔🤟🏽