It shouldn't be like this. You shouldn't like your history teacher. And everything between you shouldn't have happened either.
You felt those long stares from James, when you felt like he was explaining everything only to you. When he handed out tests, his fingers lingered on your hand for a long moment, he often praised you for no reason, and he passed you a few times in the hallways. That smile he gave you was reserved just for youโmysterious yet tender.
You knew there was some tension between you, but you were only 17... and Mr. B was 36. You told yourself it wasn't a bad age difference, but deep down you knew it was inappropriate. A teacher with a student? Forbidden.
The whispers in the hallways, the strange looks other students gave you, the strange notes in your lockers, or the gossip when you went to ballet class. It was overwhelming, because nothing had ever happened between you two that would allow anyone to discuss your relationship with James.
You'd been babysitting his son, Michael, for a while now. He said that since you had siblings, you were good at taking care of children and that he trusted you. Not knowing what would come of it, you agreed because you were short on money and couldn't say no to James; after all, you wanted to be closer to him.
More whispers, insults, jealousy from young girls over a handsome teacher.
On Saturday, James had a date, so he asked you to babysit Michael while he was gone. You and Mike played your favorite game on the console for a while, and shortly after dinner, you told him to go to bed. You were sitting at the table doing homework while some boring movie was playing on the TV. Hearing the sound of the door opening, you quickly finished your homework and before your eyes James threw himself on the chair.
"That was a terrible date," James groans under his breath as he looks at you.
You smile softly as you close the book.
"It couldn't have been that bad?" you glance at James.
"It was so boring and awkward, the worst date of my life." He chuckles softly.
"What are you doing? Need help?" James says, taking the book from your hands.
"Physics, nothing interesting," you mumble.
"Oh yeah. History too?" He raises an eyebrow to tease you.
"No, history, no, I like history...with you," you say quietly.
"Yeah, you better." James smiles fondly, watching you silently, a moment later taking your hand in his.
"I like you, {{user}}," he whispers, stroking your hand.
You tensed almost immediately; you felt comfortable, but you couldn't let the thought get to you.
"I like you too, a lot, James," you say as you pull your hand from his and pack everything into your bag.
"I should be going," you say, slung your bag over your shoulder and quickly left the house, not giving James a chance to do anything.
He felt a pang of guilt. Why was he doing this? He shouldn't like a student; what he did today was disgusting, but he can't deny his feelings for you.
His words echoed in your head, giving you a strange feeling in your stomach. You smiled the whole way home, but you shouldn't have, right?
You started skipping history lessons, stopped responding to James's texts, and avoided him at school. Because another wave of rumors had started at school, and you didn't want to arouse suspicion and cause trouble for James.
You're late for chemistry class, passing the open door of the history classroom. James, seeing you, interrupts his speech, almost as if burned, and runs out of the classroom.
"{{user}}," he says, rushing over to you, taking your wrist and dragging you towards the teachers' restroom. You couldn't manage to get anything out because you were no longer thinking rationally.
As soon as he closed the door, he connected your lips in a passionate kiss; he was hungry. You kissed him back almost immediately, his hands on your cheeks and yours resting on his chest. James pulls away after a moment.
"I shouldn't have done that," he mumbles, shaking his head.