Hot For Teacher(184)

I take a couple deep breaths in hope that my body doesn’t start giving me away while I look into her blue eyes. I’ve never seen a color like them before. They’re the lightest of light blue. Her soft, pale skin and blond hair make her seem breakable. She’s a complete contrast to me.

While diving into the deep blue, a miracle occurs and I remember she asked me a question.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine with the tutoring.” I lie because the thought of being alone with her two nights a week freaks me out. If my parents knew how wild I am about her, they’d never allow me to spend one second with her alone. Hell they’d likely get me transferred out of her class.

“Great.” Ms. Tillman’s face lights up like the sun all bright and warm. I never knew someone could be so beautiful. “Why don’t we start tomorrow night? It will be a light session since the homecoming game is the next day. Can you meet me back here in the classroom at five?”

“Sure. What do I need to bring?” She bites her lip as she thinks about my question, and I grab my backpack tighter.

“Just bring yourself. I have an idea of what we can work on and I think you’re really going to like it.”

A smile twinkles in her eyes and I know I’m in trouble because I can’t wait until tomorrow night for my first session with her. She bends over the desk to write me a pass and I gaze down her shirt to see two white and delicate curves meeting in the middle.

I swallow hard when she stands up to hand me the pass.

“Just come prepared to tell me about your favorite football hero.” She nods her head and smiles. “The man who most inspires you.”

I reach for the pass and touch the slight warmth of her skin. “Thanks,” I manage to say, and head out the door to class. I hope I can put two words together when we meet tomorrow night.





Chapter 3




When Daniel exited the classroom yesterday, my mind began to plot out today’s tutoring lesson. I want to encourage him to write about a passion in his life, and I am thinking his love for football might carry over to his writing.

I saw his eyes widen after I gave him the instructions, so maybe an idol came to mind. We can progress to more complicated avenues later. My main focus is getting his pencil moving across his paper.

Something needs to get a spark going in him, because day after day, he leans back in his chair with his long legs stretched in front of him. Then he stares the entire hour at me with a vacant faraway look, as if he can see right through me. I’ve wanted to snap my fingers to pull him from his trance but I hated to embarrass him. He seems like such a sweet guy.

There are moments, I glance at him and wish I could meet his gaze and try to connect, but I can’t forget about the class full of onlookers. They might read something more into our interactions. Maybe it’s my own guilty fears, because I can’t deny finding him insanely attractive.

The boys here at Monroe when I was in school didn’t have his mature movie star looks.

This morning I shuffled through the notes from Ms. Brown, his English teacher last year. I find glowing remarks on his performance. She listed his average in her class as a B+, and even commended Daniel on class participation.

The entire summary of his actions from last year had me searching over the papers to confirm if it was really Daniel’s and not a mix-up. When I saw his name mentioned in the closing comments, I knew there was no mistake. So I asked her to meet me in the teacher’s lounge during sixth period since both of us have a break from teaching at that time.

I’m heading to the lounge after the bell rang and I dismissed my class. I arrive before Ms. Brown, and need my usual afternoon pick-me-up. I walk over to the coffeemaker and pour the dark remains into a Styrofoam cup. After adding sugar, I find the table by the window empty. It’s away from the main conversation area, and the lounge’s hideaway where teachers grade papers and spread out their work.

I spin my coffee stirrer in the cup and watch the black coffee’s controlled swirl. It reminds me of Daniel’s commanding presence on the football field smooth and almost liquid. He owns the field and everyone watching him knows they’re observing greatness. It’s such a contrast to the beautiful and quiet young man in my class who keeps to himself.

“Ms. Tillman?” I look up to see Ms. Brown gazing down at me with her head tilted to the side. “I’ve been trying to get your attention. Your mind seemed somewhere over Georgia.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, and please call me, Staci. I was just thinking and definitely needing this.” I hold my cup up and take a sip while Ms. Brown sits across from me. I wonder how long she’s been trying to talk to me.