Page 10 of Bad Kind of Love

“You’re late.” His deep gravelly voice echoed through the room. With his hands out leaning against the desk, peering at a stack of papers, he doesn’t bother glancing over at me. Speechless, I stand there frozen in place, trying to formulate in my head what to say back. But all I can seem to do is admire him from afar. Long dark hair pulled back into a messy bun with a few stray pieces falling down over his face. My eyes lingered past his bearded jawline to his exposed forearms. A white buttoned up shirt was rolled up just enough to make out the ink that trailed up his arm and disappeared under the dress shirt. There was no way this man was a teacher. His clothes were teacher attire, but his appearance on the other hand looked like he belonged in prison alongside my dad.

“Are you going to stand there all day or take a seat? I have a class to teach.” He mocks, laced with a serious tone that sent a shiver down my back. With his eyes still down, I almost forget there’s a classroom full of students when I hear their chuckles ring in my ear. My face instantly flushes, and I feel my feet move quickly to the back of the room to find an empty seat. Lowering myself into a chair, I sink as low as I could trying to hide away from the ridiculing stares all around me.

“I think Bec has a crush.” Vicky Thompson whispers to her little minion next to her, making sure she says it loud enough for me to hear. With her blue pen in-between her teeth, she twists her body around till she’s facing me with a sly grin. Wanting nothing more than to watch that pen explode in her mouth and stain her perfect set of teeth, I avert my eyes from her and focus on my feet.

“Crush? I think she would have spread her legs for him in front of the whole school.” Her friend teases, causing a few other students to laugh.

Clenching my fists under the desk, I could feel my blood temperature soaring, to the point where it was boiling.

“And what do we all find so funny over here?” The same powerful voice questions, causing me to lift my head.

He was now standing in our aisle, directly next to Vicky and her blonde friend, towering over the both of them with a menacing look across his face. With arms crossed, he appeared impatient waiting for their response while they both gazed up at him like he was their next meal.

Rolling my eyes, I watch as Vicky twirls a strand of her dark hair and innocently smiles up at our new teacher. “We were just messing with O’Connor when...”

“O’Connor?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Yah.” She nods her head. “We were joking around with Becca back there… weren’t we?” She twists her head around to face me, giving me a “don’t say shit or else” look.

He follows her eyes, and as if all the oxygen in the room filtered out, his stare crashes down on me.

Black was all I saw. A familiar color of black and darkness that sent my heart into a wild frenzy.

His eyes were blacker than night as they took me in with a strange emotion etched across his face. Like he couldn’t believe what he was staring at. It was a mixture of disbelief, anger, wonderment, every emotion in the damn book was displayed across this man’s face as he drew me in. Confused and slightly worried, I swallow the large lump in my throat as all eyes once again land on me.

As if he’s been caught staring too long, he coughs and quickly averts his eyes away from me.

“Now, if you two find the need to disrupt my class again with your... jokes, please feel free to let us all in.” He motions his arms around the classroom, but his tone says differently. “I like jokes.” He says wickedly, capturing my eyes before stalking off to the front of the classroom. Everyone remained eerily silent, if a pin was dropped from a mile away, you’d be able to hear it clearly. “Before we were so rudely interrupted by Miss O’Connor’s tardiness…” He grabs a piece of chalk and starts scribbling on the board.

Asshole.

“If you were expecting Mr. Moore this morning… he is no longer employed at Westwood High, which makes me your new English teacher.” Once he’s finished writing on the board, he twists his body around to face his students. He stands like a king gazing upon his people, powerful and sure. “My name is Mr. Fitzgerald, and I intend to make this class one of the hardest courses of your semester. I’m not an easy teacher, I expect a lot from my students, and some would say I’m an asshole because of it. Some will struggle and fail, others will push through and succeed. My rules are simple, and I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

Directing his statement at me, he roams his eyes over the room, avoiding me altogether.

“Any questions?” He says like he’s daring anyone to comment on his spiel.

Immediately, Vicky’s hand flies up faster than a speeding bullet.

“Yes.” He glances at her with disinterest.

“How old are you, Mr. Fitz?” She asks in a sultry voice, piquing the interest of all the girls in the class. They all wait with open ears for his response.

“Old enough to be your father.” He dismisses her without batting an eye. Frustrated by his answer, she glows red. Vicky Thompson was the It girl. Rarely ever turned down, and always desired, even by men twice her age. “Now, if anyone has serious questions...”

No one spoke up or raised their hand, perhaps intimidated by his gravelly voice or gruff looks, but not me, I was intrigued. Asshole or not, I was curious about who this man was and why he was here.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that our new teacher was the devil himself.

*******

Once English was over, I scrambled past Mr. Fitzgerald’s desk, peeking a glance at his built frame before heading out into the crowded hallways. He kept his eyes glued down, as if he knew I was watching him. Tugging onto my lower lip, I brush aside the strange pull towards my new teacher and concentrate on where to go next.

My next few classes went by fast, but boring as hell to say the least. First days were always the worst anyway, introducing ourselves even though we all knew each other from previous years, and listening to the teacher bark about this year’s curriculum. With my headphones strapped over my head and music blaring in my ears, I stroll through the halls blocking out any useless background noise. This was how I managed to get by all these years, no one bothered to mess with the weird girl who wore the chunky headphones.

And that’s how I liked it.

As I navigate around a group of people, I feel a delicate hand grasp my shoulder causing me to tense up. Feeling their body slide in next to mine, I sigh in relief when I realize it's my one and only friend, Josie. Removing the headphones off my ears, I pull them down so they are now lying across my shoulders like a necklace.

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