She's a student teacher and he's her mentor for her senior year internship. She's ready to learn and he, to teach. But are they ready for the consequences of blurred lines?
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I couldn't believe what I just did. But I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stop the words from coming out of my mouth, not that I wanted to. She did look beautiful today, just like yesterday and every single day that I'd set eyes on her.
But what did I have planned to do after class ended? I opened the possibly illicit door and let everything escape, with no regard for the consequences. But consequences be damned. She was clearly showing an interest in me, and I felt it. I felt the sparks flying off of us and if class hadn't started when it did, I couldn't say I wouldn't be finding out what flavor of lipstick she was wearing.
She somehow made it through the lecture without stuttering, which was a hell of a lot better than I would've been doing if the roles were reversed and I had to look at her sitting in my classroom, knowing that we'd shared a moment before class. And I had jotted down a few notes for her, because, even with what was happening, I still had a job to do. And without bias, I could easily say that she was the most prepared student teacher I'd been given in my six years of teaching. She kept the class engaged, asking open-ended questions and interacting with every student. It was art watching her in her element.
The bell rang to allow the students to leave and I knew we only had a few minutes before the next class. I stood up and started walking toward the front of the classroom where she was making her way around the front of the desk. One of the students walked up to her and started asking her a question. The smile she gave the student and the way she engaged, answering her questions with ease, caused something inside me to stir. Like a violent fucking hurricane.
What was she doing to me?
After the last student left the room, I knew I only had a second to either put my foot in my mouth or man up and take a chance.
"You did great today," I said, waiting for response so I could gauge her mindset, but all she did was smile with flushed cheeks. So I continued, hoping she'd chime in. "I have a couple of notes that you could possibly look into adding to your next outline, but if I'm being honest, I was fighting to actually find something that could help you. Because you're doing a fantastic job, Kendall. You're nailing it."
She looked up at me and smiled. "Thank you, Kyle. I was afraid that I was gonna butcher class, after..."
I waited for her to continue, but she didn't. The rosy color of her cheeks was cute as hell. "After what, Miss Clark?"
"I think you know, Mr. Stephens," she said, flirtatiously. "You said something..."
She stopped again, and seeing this flustered side of her was amusing. "I'm afraid you're going to have to clarify. I mean, you are an English student. You should be able to find the appropriate words to portray your statement accurately."
She laughed. "Now you're just being cruel. You know that you commented on more than just my outline before class, and we both know it." I nodded. "What exactly were youtrying to say?"
