The Teacher.

Class's in session

There was a guy standing at the board with his back turned to everyone in the class. He's writing his name on the board with yellow chalk. Slams the chalk down, then turns toward us. "Hello, class," he said with a British accent. "I'm your new teacher for history class, Mr. Osborne." Mr. Osborne held a smirk on his face as he looked at us with his piercing green eyes. His jawline was cut perfectly, he was tall and lean but muscular too. Wore his flannel light blue shirt  with a sleek black tie with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Veins popped out of his arm, his muscles flexed as he leaned against his oak wood desk. 

Walked around the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. "You," he points to Dave Walker, one of the boys on the football team, "stand, introduce yourself." It wasn't a question, more like a demand. "I want to start with you and continue on back and front--repeating--with everyone introducing their self and what they like." Mr. Osborne scanned the room with eyes. 

My heart started beating a bit faster. Usually when teachers to this, I tend to get nervous. I over think what I'm going to say then say something I regret, wishing for the next opportunity to express myself. Dumb, I know. 

Dave stood up, looking sleepy and bored, and said, "I'm Dave and I like to play football." He sat down in his seat and rested his head back on the desk. 

Mr. Osborne narrowed his eyes at him. "Alright, Dave. Next." 

Next was Miranda... Carrie? I don't remember her name all that well. But I knew that we went to grade school together. "I-I'm Miranda," she stammered. "I like to read." 

A smile appeared on his face, then he said, "Next." 

Everyone went in the class, I of course, being the person who sat in the last row in the back being the last person in the room to even speak, I stood up. Pushed the loose hair behind my ear, looked up at him and smiled a bit. I felt my cheeks grow hot. Dammit! As nervous as I am to speak in front of the entire class, I'm more nervous to speak to this new teacher--Mr. Osborne. He's hot for an older guy, no older guy has made me feel this kind of way before. Whenever an older guy would ever speak to me, I'd feel weird and disgusted. Although, he's alluring and I never felt this way towards a teacher before either. "Hi," I said softly, "I'm Ryland... Ryland Millar. And I like history."

"Why is that... Ryland?" he asked but for some reason his voice seemed to more... velvety. Rough around the edges but it was smooth. "History is a very, um, rough subject for many. Sensitive,  perhaps." 

Swallowing hard, I respond. "History is apart of everything we do even the scandal. Part of the reason why a lot of what has been made now is due scandal. Who really made shoes? Or the text books we read? Just recently we just now acknowledged the fact that Christopher Columbus is a fraud--" I suddenly caught myself. Apparently I was speaking entirely too much. Everyone's eyes were pinned on me. Some in surprise, some with the looks of can she just shut up? Mr. Osborne held a smirk on his face with a finger touching his chin with his index finger. 

Licks his lips and smiles. "Thanks, Ryland, for our introduction to history," he chuckled picking up the remote and turning on the projector then pulled down the screen. "And that class is a brief but thorough intro to our history class."