Sunshine (Student/Teacher Romance) 18+

3

Abel

As I pull into the staff parking lot, I notice all the kids scrambling the campus like a bunch of angry, red ants. So frantic and inconsiderate of anyone else. Practically crawling on top of each other.

There's so many students here, it's like the line to enter campus doesn't stop. It's a constant rush of people flooding the gates. Arms pushing and shoving at the entrance and no one to regulate it.

I grab my laptop bag from my car seat and sling it over my shoulder. And as I shut my car door, I see my coffee mug in the cup holder and unlock the door to grab it. I'll definitely be needing that.

Entering campus almost makes me feel like a kid again. Except the stares I'm getting make me feel more like the popular kid as opposed to who I really was during those days.

I nod at the students I pass, trying to keep cool. Trying not to show that I feel like I'm seconds from being mauled as soon as the bell sounds.

From what I remember, school sucked. Most of my teachers spent the period crying because they couldn't get the kids to stop yelling and talking back, the others either yelled at the top of their lungs until their voices cracked, or wrote detention slips more than they letter grades on our papers.

The girls seem sweet, so far. They all wave at me with big smiles on their faces, so that's nice. The boys have been giving me narrow eyed glares, but still nod at me as I do them.

So far, so good.

As I enter the English building, I hear whistles echoing throughout the long hall. At the very end, there's a girl sitting on the ground, her yellow backpack beside her crossed legs and her back against the lockers. As I get closer to my door, I hear a group of girls sucking their lips at her as they approach, whistling like they're calling a dog.

"Hey, stray. Did you miss us over the summer?"

The girl shoots them a glare, but doesn't respond as I enter my classroom.

Stray? Kids are even more cruel than I remember.

I set my bag down on the desk, sliding my laptop from the case, and essentially my notebook and a couple of pens.

I don't know how this day is going to go. As I stare out at the empty desks in front of me, I almost feel a twinge of regret bubbling up at my center.

I have no idea what I'm doing.

It's almost like all the training I'd received has just shot out the open window beside me.

Remember Abel, they smell weakness. Don't show it.

As soon as that first bell rings, I've just gotta be ready.

Cynthia: I am soooo sorry about last night.

Cynthia: I usually don't drink that much. I swear.

I sigh, opening the empty drawer and tossing the phone in there. I don't need to worry about someone who I don't plan on having another date with. I've got bigger issues. Like what to fill this drawer with.

Graded papers? Ungraded papers? Paper clips?

My door opens, revealing the smiling, but uncertain face of a man wearing a red polo shirt and khaki shorts. He comes in and looks around my room.

"Stephen Cross. Fellow English teacher, I'm right across from you." He points his thumb out the door.

"Oh, cool. I'm Abel Caswell, nice to meet you."