Young Blood

Chapter Two

“Your teacher?” Paul’s jaw dropped. “The hell, man?”

  “I know, it’s bad…”

  “Of course it is, George!” Paul sighed. “How did you fall for your bloody teacher?”

  “I dunno…” I bit my lip. “I just walked into my classroom, and he was there. He’s replacing Mr. Mustard, and God… the man is beautiful.”

  “Mr. Mustard?” John chuckled. “That man’s still alive?”

“Probably not, considering they replaced him,” Paul joked in response. “How old is he?”

  “Five years older than me tops.”

  “Five? That’s not bad.”

  John gave Paul a jealous look, followed by a little pout. Paul didn’t seem to notice.

  “I know. And he called me after class today. I swear to God, this man is perfect…”

  “I’ve never seen you so worked up over someone before, Georgie,” John smiled. “It’s hilarious.”

  “Sod off,” I smirked.

  That night, my new teacher was on my mind. I knew it was wrong for someone as young and professional to be obsessing over my professor, but I couldn’t help it. As much as I hated the fact that I was attracted to him, it came naturally. It was pure sin, loving someone who was supposed to guide you through your career. But Professor Starkey was just too perfect.

  I was beyond excited as I woke up the next morning. John and Paul were still asleep, but I awoke rather early. I brushed my hair more times than I thought was humanly possible, making sure it looked as nice as it could. Being a male, I couldn’t impress Professor Starkey by putting on makeup or wearing a low-cut top, but I tried to dress up as best as I could. I wore a pair of rather tight trousers and an equally as tight white t-shirt. It was simple, but I prayed it would work.

  I had a little trouble putting my books into my locker, and I knew that this was happening for a reason. It took be a good five minutes, meaning I would be a little late to Professor Starkey’s class today. But I didn’t mind. I knew that appearing slightly late would mean I’d make an entrance. Hopefully the others would be as impressed as I thought Professor Starkey would be.

  As I approached the classroom for my last class of the day, I could tell that class had already started. I slammed the door open, walking in the room with a cooler posture than the perfect one I always walked around with. Everyone’s eyes suddenly turned to me, and it began getting harder and harder to keep my cool. As I walked past Professor Starkey, who was standing against his desk, my book bag brushed past my leg. I knew that any straight man would be extremely scared, but for some reason, this man didn’t move a muscle. His blue eyes remained glued on me, and I sat down at my desk, slouching in my chair.

  “Pleasure you could join us, Mr. Harrison,” Professor Starkey’s voice cooed. I could tell he was annoyed that I was late, but I didn’t mind. Just hearing his voice would make up for his hatred.

  “Mmm.” My response was weak, but I honestly didn’t know how to respond to that.

  “We were just adding to our notes from yesterday,” he continued, his voice sharp and much more stern than it had been the previous day. “It would be ever so greatly appreciated if you’d do the same.”

  Several students snickered, but I could care less. I slowly grabbed my notebook from my bag, pulling open yesterday’s notes. I grasped a pencil tightly in my hand, looking up with hungry eyes at my professor, who was staring just as hungrily back.