See Me After Class

looks & lust

imagine a student asking a ridiculously dumb question and mr. styles just looks over at another student like.

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it had taken much too long to get to get to my last period of the day. after forty-five minutes of ap literature, i could leave school during the last block because of a miracle called early release. the thought of ending every day with english had excited me. my favorite class helped each day seem a little less dreary by giving me something to look forward to.

when i finally walked into room 202, there was only a few people already in the classroom. everyone else was in the halls socializing. a short, balding man with a mustache was standing behind the desk. i had said a quick hello then found a seat in the middle of a row towards the left side of the board.

as i waited, i watched the second hand on the clock slowly tick. i never was one to linger in the halls, but in that moment i envied everyone who had someone to keep them from class. the inside of my cheek began to swell as i sat and bit it; a bad habit of mine.

when the man who i had assumed was mr. styles left the room, i looked around for my actual teacher. no one was in there except for students. suddenly, everyone rushed through the doorway just seconds before the bell rang. voices filled the cement-walled square as everyone attempted to guess where our teacher was. i studied people as they socialized; eavesdropping on their underwhelmingly plain conversations.

each and every voice went quiet as a tall, gangly boy tripped through the door, just barely catching himself and making several people snicker. the clumsy and late new kid had a dorky shoulder bag instead of a backpack and was completely overdressed for school. chatter began to start up again as everyone asked the people around them if they knew who this was.

when he didn't find a seat but rather set his bag down on the rolling chair of the front desk, the volume of the room increased.

'is this seriously our ap lit teacher?' i heard one girl ask incredulously.

the young teacher cleared his throat, silencing everyone, then informed in a sedated, low, raspy british accent, "good afternoon, everyone. sorry i was late, but i do not have a classroom of my own and had to come all the way from room 120. and i may have gotten a bit lost," he admitted with a chuckle. "in case you didn't notice, it is clearly my first year here and also my first year teaching. i am only twenty-two, so please don't eat me alive. i do not wish to die young."

as he nervously addressed the thirty-one students, I could tell he was trying to be outgoing. he seemed to be torn between wanting to hide under his desk and wanting to become best friends with each and every one of us. i had a feeling he was the type of teacher that would attempt to tell jokes that no one found funny, filling the room with an awkward silence. i only hoped he would catch on and not embarrass himself too much.

"you can refer to me as mr. styles; mr. s for those who find the extra five letters too much; or h-bomb so i can feel like i'm cool and accepted by my students. i prefer the latter," he rambled on as he pulled at the collar of his tight, button down shirt. "i assume you all know each other since you're in your final year, so, there will be no ice breakers. instead, we'll be going straight into a diagnostic of sorts."

as the room erupted into groans, he retreated behind his desk and began to shuffle through his bag, pulling a stack of papers from it. mr. styles passed out the diagnostic to the students at the front of each row then once again began to speak.

"i know you were probably hoping for today to be easy, but this is ap literature. you are earning credits for university and should take this very seriously. your future begins today, so try not to fall too far behind."

everyone looked back and forth between the large packets in their hands and our gorgeous teacher who was taking a seat at the cheap wooden work station provided for him. as i started to fill out answers, i listened to the hushed tones floating around me. a part of me still wishes i had never heard a word they spoke.

i, of course, finished before everyone else and watched as the nervous boy drummed his fingers on his desk. his brown curly hair was styled back in a moviestar way, and his emerald eyes sparkled against his sun-kissed summer skin. his all black attire gave him an edge that almost distracted you from his overly goofy personality.

everyone had begun to finish their packets, and the comments grew worse.

'you can see a huge bulge in his pants. jesus christ they're tighter than mine.'

'the things i would do to him if he wasn't a teacher. hell, the things i'd do to him regardless.'

'i'm just hoping he chaperones homecoming so i can get a dance or a dozen in.'

'honestly can he just f.uck me against the desk?'

enough was enough and I turned to the girls around me with a look of pure disgust on my face. "you're kidding me, right? that is absolutely disgusting. he is a human being not a piece of meat. yeah, he is clearly gorgeous but shut. up. he's your teacher not some playboy on your twitter feeds. please grow up."

their responses were silence and wide eyes. each of them turned to face the front of the room and didn't speak for the rest of the period. i was glad i had put them in their places. mr. styles was incredibly good looking, but their overly sexual comments were nauseating.

and girls call boys disgusting?

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a/n

mr. styles is my favorite harry styles tbh

i saw my baby third row at otra baltimore :') for all my beautiful clips follow my vine: ashton // pcd

xx. ashton