Young Blood

Chapter Three

 I went to bed that night in quite a joyous mood. I don’t think I had ever been more excited about school than I was while lying in my bed and thinking about that evening. Sure, I had told John and Paul pretty much everything, but they would never be aware of the overpowering rush of feelings I got from kissing someone as forbidden as my professor.

  The next morning I awoke with a tingling feeling running through my bones. Could it be that he was just messing with me, and in reality, he was one hundred percent straight? No, no… no straight man would ever do that to another man. And even though deep down I knew this, I still couldn’t get the possibility that he was messing with me out of my mind. 

  Walking to class was nervous because even though I knew my way to the school quite well, I felt like I was going to get lost. I was nervous the entire way as well, and my brain was pounding inside my skull. I was overwhelmed with thoughts, some thoughts I didn’t even want to think. My brain was overflowing, my mind becoming an overpowering force that somehow decided it wanted to think about every little thing that ticked me off in one short walk to school by myself. Sometimes I hated being able to think.

  Whenever I had English, it was always the last class of the day. I was quite thankful for that, as that meant I was usually in a good mood the entire day waiting to see Professor Starkey. If I had his class first, for example, as soon as it was over, I’d be dreading the rest of the school day. There’s a saying that says ‘save the best for last.’ I definitely thought that fit perfectly with my current situation. 

  Sitting in my math class was dreadful. I gazed out the window, the bright blue sky seeming so much more happy than where I was. Sunlight was pouring in, and I desperately wished I could be a bird or a butterfly, or something else that could just fly out that window and be free. 

  At points during my math teacher’s lecture I swore I heard Professor Starkey’s low, sexy voice overpowering my teacher’s. I even imagined his voice instead of that bitch-of-a math teacher’s at some points in the lesson. It was nice, but an annoying reminder of how I wasn’t staring at his face.

  I didn’t wait to be the last one in English class like before. I didn’t rush in, either. For once, I arrived at normal time. I didn’t wear tight trousers or an equally-as-tight t-shirt like before, but instead kept it simple, yet classy. I wanted my professor to know that even though what had happened last night happened, I was still just as professional as ever. I kept myself clean-cut as well- a nice button down short-sleeved shirt in green, a color I knew brought out my eyes, and a pair of nice tan dress-pants. They weren’t too dressy, though, as practically every male in the school wore similar pairs.

  As I walked in the classroom, I made sure not to be extremely visible. I snuck in with a group of other students my age, hiding behind the tallest ones and finding my way to my usual seat in the front. Professor Starkey got up from his desk without looking at the class, walking over to the entrance door and shutting it. My only thought was ‘wow, he thinks he’s trapping me out! Showing me a lesson! Wait until he sees…’

  And when Professor Starkey did turn to me our eyes interlocked, instantly bringing back every sexual memory of the evening before. I quickly looked away, and in a few seconds before snapping out of it, he looked down too. He stood in front of his desk now, leaning back onto it, his hands grasping it behind him.

  “Who can tell me about a Midsummer Night’s Dream?” he asked, his voice making my heartbeat speed up with every word.

  A girl in the back raised her hand high in the air.

  “Yes, Jane?”

  “It was written by Shakespeare.”

  “Er… good.” It was more of a question than a statement. “Is that all you can tell me?”