He’s also the reason I was late today. The principal, Mr. Dorsey, has asked me to help Daniel with his writing. He’s struggling in my Creative Writing class and currently has an F for the quarter. There’s still time to pull it up to a higher mark, but it will take help outside of the classroom. And Mr. Dorsey doesn’t want anything to hurt the star of the school. Hell Daniel’s talent is the talk of the State if not the region.
When Mr. Dorsey suggested I meet Daniel back at school two afternoons a week to help him improve his writing skills, I was surprised at how readily I said yes. After being stuck on campus all day, I should hate the idea of returning after dinner to do more teaching. But I didn’t mind at all. I didn’t want to even analyze why I felt this way, because the answer is obvious. He’s kind, quiet, and… as hot as hell.
Chapter 2
The bell rings as I sit my backpack on the gray tiled floor and ease into my seat. I reach inside and take out a notebook and pen. Ms. Tillman doesn’t allow us to use laptops or electronic devices in class, so we write our notes by hand. She often complains about the lost art of penmanship. Some of the kids grumbled when she announced her class rules¸ but I think they just want to use the devices to email or text their friends.
I watch Ms. Tillman write on the blackboard as I stretch out my legs and settle into my chair. Her long blond ponytail sways across her back as she posts our next assignment in dusty white chalk.
I can’t keep my eyes from travelling down and landing on her ass. Its slight wiggle as she writes makes my mind wander and wonder what lies beneath her dress.
Can anyone guess what I’m thinking?
I glance around me and notice all the boys with their mouths open in shock and awe. I should feel relieved but I don’t. Now I wonder if they’re thinking what I am.
She returns the chalk to the metal tray and turns to face the class. I become still in my chair and hold my breath as she scans over the students. I may be fooling myself, but I swear her eyes light up when her glance stops and meets mine. I smile at her and she returns it with a gentle grin then begins the class.
Out of nowhere, the bell rings to dismiss us from class. I shake my head from its fog. I have no idea what Ms. Tillman or my classmates discussed today, because my mind was lost and scattered. The same thing happens everyday. When she stands before the class and speaks, I’m led into a bizarre trance where my brain shifts into dark and dirty desires.
I scribble the assignment due tomorrow down on my notebook and throw it into my backpack hoping I can understand what the hell I have to do later tonight when I’m back home.
I’m the last student remaining in my seat since everyone bolted for the door the second they heard the bell. I make my way past her desk with my head held down. I can’t look at the desk or her after what I’d imagined doing to her during the last hour.
“Wait, Daniel.” Ms. Tillman calls to me as I approach the door. “Do you have a second? I’ll write you a pass if you’re late to the next class.”
Oh, shit. My needed escape doesn’t look likely. “Sure,” I respond while shuffling toward her desk. I don’t want to get too close because I will become tongue-tied if I smell her perfume.
“Mr. Dorsey spoke to me yesterday about your grade in my class. He wants me to tutor you a couple times a week. You did great in English last year, so I’m surprised you’re having trouble. I hope it’s not me.”
Hell, what can I say to that? Yes, it is you! You’re my complete fantasy. My ideal of the perfect woman. I don’t think that would go over very good.
“I need to concentrate more in class. My mind has been somewhere else.” I don’t tell the whole truth just enough of the truth to give a reason for my shitty performance in class.
“It’s senior year and you have a lot of pressure resting on your shoulders. You’re right in the middle of football season and need to select a choice for college. All of this has to be weighing heavy on you.”
“I guess so.” I shift my weight and stare at my feet wishing I had more to say to her, but my mouth won’t cooperate.
“Are you okay with tutoring a couple nights a week?” Ms. Tillman asks as a whiff of her sweet scent hits me. I’m afraid to look up and eye her this close, but I can’t stop myself and raise my head. “Mr. Dorsey is going to speak to your parents about it. I know you can bring up your grade.”
She moves closer to stand by the side of the desk and a sweat breaks out on the palm of my hands. I want to wipe them over my dark jeans but it would reveal how she’s my weakness.