Harrison Woods is a 17-year-old girl attending Arbor Coast High, a boarding school in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Her dark past including her rocky relationship with her parents and her esteemed older brother's suicide are the reasons she landed herself at...
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Thank fuck, today was Saturday. I decided to go to the coffee shop today rather than the usual Sunday. I ordered a cinnamon latte, which was not a smart call on my part because I couldn't bring myself to drink it. It just reminded me of Otto and thinking about Otto made me think about how he transferred me out of his class and into a completely different English class across campus. The worst part about it was that my new English teacher Mr. Robinson didn't even acknowledge me the whole class period. I'm pretty sure he didn't even notice that he had a new student. It was beyond frustrating and I knew that if I had to tolerate his class for the rest of the semester, I would end up hating English once the year was up.
What also sucked was that I didn't have English with West anymore and he refused to transfer to Mr. Robin-snooze, which was West's nickname for the teacher. The only class I had with West now was art. And I guess we could spend lunch together, but even then it felt like I barely got to see him. And that was something I was not okay with.
I was working on my psych essay, my eyes intently focused on my laptop screen, when I heard the chair across from me screech as someone pulled it back and sat down. When I peeled my eyes away from the laptop, I made eye contact with him. Also known as the last person I wanted to see right now.
"What do you want?"
Otto sighed. "Harrison, I wanted to talk."
I raised my eyebrows and shook my head, trying to refocus on my essay. Maybe if I ignored him completely he would get the memo and walk away, realizing I didn't want to talk to him at all. But he didn't move. He sat there and I knew his eyes were on mine even when I wasn't looking at him. I felt his intense gaze as if his eyes were sending jolts of warmth to my face. It was hard to ignore him, hard not to look at him, when his face was so tempting to take in. It was hard to hold my ground when all I really wanted to do was look up, close my laptop, reach forward, and touch his face.
But he had kicked me out of his class and therefore, was a complete asshole.
"You ordered a cinnamon latte," he commented, sounding smug.
"Go away."
He stayed put.
After a while, I closed my laptop and slipped it in my backpack before putting it on. I stood up and Otto stood up as well, holding his own cinnamon latte I presumed.
"We have nothing to talk about," I muttered, brushing past him and heading straight for the door. I made it outside and to my car, but I knew Otto was right behind me.
"We should talk. It's not nothing." I opened the passenger side of my car and tucked my backpack inside, then slammed the door and met Otto on the concrete sidewalk in front of my car. When I looked at him, I wanted to be mad at a high school English teacher for kicking me out of his classroom. But all I really felt when I looked at him was the urge to press his mouth against mine again. I didn't even think of him as merely an English teacher. I thought of him as the man who, for some reason, I had been intensely attracted to for much more than just the way he looked.
