𝓜𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝔂 𝓓𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓼 𝓘𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼

Dean Portman

Fingernails tapped against the desk as she stared across the classroom at one boy in particular who'd caught her eye the day he caused havoc. The day he showed up at the school unannounced at a hockey game was the day she began liking hockey. As the jingle of her nails continued on the desk, she pursed her lips to a thin line as the boy was unaware of her stare on him as she smiled to herself.

Cheeks unable to resist the urge to turn red and hot, something that happened a lot with her, and she slouched back in her chair. Her stomach held butterflies as she placed a hand to apply pressure, wanting to rid the silly feeling that made her feel woozy one too many times. Almost a panic was brought on as she kept cool, not wanting to bring more attention to herself than she already had.

Pleated black skirt being pulled down as she'd adjusted herself, looking to the chalk board and caught sight of the curly haired brunette. 

He was looking directly at her with a smirk, his head tilted to the side as he looked at her attire. Dean always wondered if her skirts got shorter and shorter every time she wore one because he swore they seemed to. He never said a thing about it because if he did, the potential for it to stop could actually happen.

When the bell rang, their back and forth stares had stopped as students stood, leaving down the rows and eventually left the class room. She stacked her books one on top of the other and finally stood from her chair, the last girl to get up as the teacher paced the front of the room. With a smirk, she poked her tongue to her cheek and looked at Dean.

He watched her as she dropped her pencil purposely and lowered, bending over with her ass facing him. Mischievously, she picked it up and merely shook her hips side to side before standing. The girl's excitement skyrocketed at the fact she was messing with him and he looked away, hand clenching to a fist.

"Mr. Douglas," She began, giving a finger wave to Dean and walked to the front of the class, lifting her skirt a bit higher for Dean.

"Ah, fuck me." He muttered below his breath, the girl's ass was magic and the urge to resist failed in a matter of 0.5 seconds. 

"Yes, Madeline?" The man turned. "Dean, the class is over. You can leave."

"I-I...Oh yeah." He laughed, stuttering.

Madeline's blonde hair whipped around her shoulders as she looked back innocently to Dean, who grabbed his books. "Sorry, Mr. Douglas but Dean was actually asking me about this project..." She trailed. 

Faking a conversation with her teacher, she could see Dean from the corner of her eye as he merely left the class room. He leaned back against the counter top lining the outer side of class room, books piled the shelves above as he pretended to look for one. He just kept looking at her bare legs exposed from the skirt and the shoes she wore made no match for her height. 

She looked flawless and he couldn't get enough of her, holding a book in front of him.

"Well, Madeline, I need to print these quickly before the bell, but if you need more help come back after classes." He points to her.

"Oh, sure Mr. Douglas. That sounds great." She faked, nodding to him as he left the classroom.

The senior walked behind him and stopped before leaving, closing the door as if the teacher would when all students left. With an empty class room, she crossed her arms over her chest and walked down the small row of desks to meet Dean Portman. 

Playing it off innocently, the guy shook his head at her with a small scowl that tried turning to a smirk as she walked up to him. Skirt bouncing with every step she took and her straight hair falling behind her shoulders as she bit her lip with a small, casual smile. "Caught you staring." She mentioned to him.