My Greek Teacher Is An Alpha (Book 1)

Introduction

**This story contains scenes that may not be suitable for some readers. If that is the case, stop reading!**

A/N: Bold and italicized lines are thoughts that do not belong in the speaker's head. Italicized lines are the speaker's own thoughts (in case you get confused easily like I do! I swear it will make sense when you read!) Also, for those of you on Wattpad mobile, there are arrows: one arrow is internal thought and two arrows are external (not Aimee's) thoughts.

Now, on with the story!

αααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααα

"Aimee! Aimee!"  Tasha screamed while waving her arms frantically, "Where have you been!"

"I slept in."

Her eyes softened, "On the first day of school?"

I shrugged. >When did school matter to me anyways? The only thing that I looked forward to every day was Art class. Nothing else was important - well, if I wanted to go to college, my art portfolio had to improve in the next year. My foster parents couldn't afford it, which is understandable, seeing as they have two younger children to care for. >How they got stuck with me, I'll never really know.

"Right, well, I have news for you! We have lunch together! But nothing else..."

My jaw dropped, "Not even study hall?"

"Is yours fifth?"

"No, fourth."

"Fuck, nope," she said with a grimace. The bell rang, signaling the end of a period, "Well, I have to get going to Baking. Where are you headed?"

"What period is it now?"

"Fifth."

"Greek."

"Text me, bitch!" she smiled at me before turning around and walking down the hallway. People were filing slowly out of classes like hoardes of tired zombies. It looked like every step was agonizing.

>That's what public school does to a student. And to think it's only the first day!

I tried to walk to my class at the other end of the crowded hall, but it was to no avail. There was a circle formed around something but there was no way for me to see what was happening.

>Imbeciles, I said in my mind, >do you have to stand around in the middle of the hall?

The blood red and blonde mix of hair immediately caught me off gaurd. It almost looked like Blake's hair but... he said he wasn't coming to school today? The only thing I heard was his scream before I pounced into action. I pushed some girl to the ground, I shoved a football player - it was a life and death situation!

Blake was on the ground, with his hands covering his face, whimpering. So I did what any good girlfriend would do: my arms wound expertly under his armpits and I lifted him to his feet.

"Yeah, get away, the show is over," I said with a sigh. My boyfriend was a wreck - he was already in a fight and it hasn't been a week. >What gives? I guided him down the hallway, through the crowd of people, towards the nurses' office.

αααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααα

I rushed through the doorway in a huff! I mean, it wasn’t my fault I was late. Damn Blake.

The teacher didn’t bother looking in my general direction as I passed his desk. He stopped looking at the book on his desk for a second. His eyes met mine. >Thank God he didn’t say anything because that could be really awk-

>>Why doesn’t anyone come to class on time? the foreign thought entered my mind.

And then it was gone.

So maybe I was just imagining things; and like my grandma used to say, it’s never too late to start going insane... What would I do if I went insane? >Maybe I should just leave class.

“Let’s all get to know each other,” the familiar voice said, “My name is Jeff Seaberg, I’m filling in for my colleague for a few days, Mr. Hawthorne is going through some surgery. Anyway, I normally teach Roman Poetry second semester of the year. Other than that, well, I don’t know. But I do know that this is going to be a great class.”

I felt eyes pounding into my skull which caused me to jerk my head up from my desk to look at this guy. That was the biggest mistake of my life because he was incredibly handsome. He taught Greek classes and he was worthy of being a Greek God; his strong, but small, jaw highlighted his face and his nose pointed at just the right angle. His dark curls sat in a mess on the top of his head, caressing his forehead. Don’t even get me started on his minty green eyes.

>>Typical teenage girls. At least they could close their mouths and stop drooling.

Sure enough, when I glanced at the girl next to me, she could have been catching flies with her mouth open that wide.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “we should get to know each other. Uh, let’s just do this in alphabetical order. Ah yes, here we are, Kimberly Adams?”

I heard her giggle before I could see her. >Thankfully, she didn’t change over the summer.

“Hi, my name is Kim. I’m captain of the cheerleading squad and I love smoothies! Go Wolves!” she squealed, which of course, caused every guy in the room to laugh. Even Mr. Seaberg was chuckling.

“Alright... ah, let’s see, how about we mix it up a little bit,” >>because I really don’t give a shit about these people. But who is that girl... “Aimee Voltaire?”

A sigh escaped my mouth before I started, “Hello, my name is Aimee or Aims, whichever you like is cool with me,” I paused because I swore I could hear an echo in the room, “Right, well anyways, I like art.”

>>Got you.

“What’s your medium?” Mr. Seaberg said with a curious look on his face.

“Oil pastels.”

He nodded, “Nice.”

>>Wow, she’s different. I wonder if she knows that she has...?

There was a slight laugh that echoed in my head and the only thing I thought that was funny... well... no one was laughing. I wish I knew the end of that.

He continued calling on people, asking questions, and attempted to look interested. But for some reason, his eyes kept focusing on the ceiling. He seemed bored like he’d done this a thousand times before.

“Well, I think that’s everyone,” he said as he clapped his hands together, “Read the introduction to the Pomeroy for tomorrow. I’m not assigning any written homework. Just stay in your seats until the bell rings.”

>>Why did I get stuck with this class again? I could be home, on the couch, watching the game, drinking a beer... But I guess this could be interesting. I know her from somewhere. Why?

>... I need to take some ibuprofen, because this is one weird headache ...

αααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααα

 "What the fuck were you thinking, Blake?" I growled at him, "You shouldn't just get into fights for no reason!"

"It's not my fault, okay? You just don't get it."

"Blake," I paused, looking him in the eye, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Yes."

"So?"

He frowned at me, "No."

"What do you mean no?"

"Just drop it, Aimee."

"Whatever. If you want to be that way, fine then."

"Aimee," his eyes softened, "you know I didn't mean it that way. Babe, it's just, I can't tell you?"

"What the fuck are you hiding from me? Did you cheat on me?" tugging at my hair, I let out a small huff, "Blake, just tell me! I need to know what's wrong! I'm your girlfriend, for God's sake, not your mother!"

>>Girlfriend? Did I hear that right?

"I have to do something right now to protect you, okay? I'm sorry, I can't date you anymore."

"We've been dating for three and a half years... And this is how you dump me? In the parking lot of school? Wow, classy, Blake. Real classy."

>>I guess not... well that makes things...

"Aims. It's over. We're over," his forehead scrunches together - those obscure beautiful blue eyes that I loved so much were filled to the brim with conflicting emotions - what was he trying to tell me?

My hand made contact with his face before I could even comprehend what I was doing. I slapped him. I heard some gasps in the parking lot but I didn't give a shit. >What kind of jerk does that?

But I didn't even bother looking back at his face, not once. He wouldn't get that kind of satisfaction from me. I shuffled over to my car, only two spots away, and jammed my key into the door lock. It opened with ease and I slid in.

My head tapped against the steering wheel as I sniffled lightly.

>What just happened?

αααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααααα

|| ©2011 Guitarfreak8810 || All Rights Reserved. ||