Page 2 of Ms. Mosley

She had that timeless 90s kind of beauty. Short as fuck, slim yet curvy, with full lips and dark hair that gracefully hung down her back. Everything on her was real. From the hair on her head to that small round ass she carried behind her. Even her nails were natural—short and painted creamy white.

Another thirty-five minutes of engaging in classroom debate and class finally came to an end. I’d be lying if I said I was ready to leave though. I could see the front Ms. Mosley put up for the past hour beginning to crumble, and I was certain she’d be back in tears by the time we left. Call me crazy, but I hated the thought of leaving her like that. Whatever she had going on these last few months was really getting to her today.

Once we were dismissed, I stepped out but lingered around, making sure the area was clear of other students and faculty. It took about forty-five minutes, but it was worth the wait. Knowing we were her last class of the day, I rounded the corner and quietly slipped back into the classroom.

Ms. Mosley was distracted, her back turned to the board as she cleared her elegant handwriting and engaged in a low conversation on the phone.

“Sis, I know it hurts. But make no mistake that this is his loss. You deserve so much better.”

The room was so quiet that I could hear the voice on the other end of the line, catching just the tail end of the conversation.

“Yeah, it’s just… hearing about it is one thing but to see it messed me up all over again. Not gonna lie.” Ms. Mosley whispered. “I’m going to pull myself together though.”

Interrupting, I cleared my throat, and she spun around on her heels.

“Steph, let me call you back. One of my students just stepped in.” She quickly swiped away her tears.

“Okay, I love you.”

“Love you too, sis.” After the call ended, she turned her attention to me. “Prosper Shakur… you keep sneaking up on me. How can I assist you this time?”

I took a seat at the front of her class, in a chair usually occupied by a quirky chick who just had to be up close to catch every detail.

“To let me mend that broken heart of yours.” I responded, tired of keeping that shit bottled up.

“Excuse me?” She snatched off her eyeglasses, her perfectly arched brows clashing at the center of her forehead.

“If you can fix those pretty ass lips to say ‘excuse me,’ it means you heard me, Ms. Mosley.”

She shook her head as if she were dreaming before tilting it to the side. I’m sure she was double-checking that we were alone, and no one was approaching.

“Mr. Shakur, I don’t know what has gotten into you. But I suggest you cut it out and head right back out that door. And I’ll pretend like I didn’t just hear you say that to me.”

“Or what?” I challenged as I made my next move.

I rose from the seat and walked over to her desk, sitting on the edge to close the annoying ass gap between us.

Three months.

Thirteen long ass weeks.

That’s how long I’d been struggling in this fuckin’ class, fighting to control my urges for her.Today, my suffering would come to an end.

“You gon’ report me? Tell these niggas I’m harassing ya? 'Cause I ain’t going nowhere until you understand that I want you as more than my professor.”

“Listen—"

“Nah, you listen. I been on this earth for twenty-five years and I ain’t never in my life met a woman as beautiful as you. I wanna take you out, Ms. Mosley.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“No ma’am, I got all my good senses.”

Saying fuck it, I lifted my hand to her pretty face and strummed the redness of her cheeks with the tip of my thumb. And I noticed the breath escaping her lips, a silent release of the emotions she attempted to contain the moment she discovered I had returned to class. She was hurtin’—broken. But I was determined to be the glue that pieced her back together. Transforming that temporary smile into something lasting.

After a while, Ms. Mosley removed my hand and took a step back, as if the reality of the moment had hit her hard and she realized she shouldn’t be this close to me. Her eyes broke from mine and darted around the room nervously.

“P…prosper, I don’t want to have to report you. Bringing down a black man in a world that’s already stacked against him has never been my thing, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

---