Sunshine (Student/Teacher Romance) 18+

10

Abel

I don't know how the hell I let my guard down like that. That was my number one rule. That's the one thing no one lets you forget when you get into teaching. Not to get too close to the students, let alone let them inside your house.

I stare blankly at the one empty seat in the back row. My pen clicking steadily under my thumb as I stress over my reality. I let a young girl sleep in my bed, and now she isn't in class.

I fed her breakfast. I saw her leave. I let her leave. I watched her walk down the sidewalk from my kitchen window. Where is she?

"Mr. Cas."

I blink, snapping myself out of the stress induced trance I'd fallen into. I straighten up, setting the pen I assaulted down on my desk and present myself back to my almost full class of students.

"It's been like thirty minutes..." Kaliyah continues, "Should we keep writing or..."

"No, sorry. Pens down." I streak my fingers through my hair. "Journals up." I motion with my hands as they all begin passing their books forward and then I go to pull down the projector screen. I'm running out of videos to show them, but I'll play something sleep inducing so that I can have another moment to recollect myself.

"Not another video," says Jacob and without thinking, I shoot him a glare. "I'm just saying..."

I clear my throat. "I apologize for the videos, but I'm still organizing the semesters lesson plans. It takes some real preparation, guys."

Kaliyah groans and her head flops down on her desk. I try to ignore a few other students who have similar reactions, and after dimming the lights, I press play.

Just as I'm about to sit back down, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

Stephen Cross: Let's grab a beer after work?

I take my seat, spinning myself toward the window along the edge of my desk.

Me: Definitely.

I need more than just a beer. More like a Xanax, a name change, and a new ID.

...

Every day since Stephen Cross roamed into my room to introduce himself, he hasn't let a day go by without saying a word to me.

Some morning's he'd just walk in and say hey, other days, he'd stumble in during lunch with a sandwich in one hand and his phone in the other, laughing with a mouth full of bologna at some internet meme I'd figure he was too old to understand. Sometime's I'm too old to understand.

"How have you worked there for so long? It's like a Petri dish of sex. Girls are always around me, every damn corner, popping out with their giggles and their hair twirling. I'm sick of it." I hunch over the bar counter, staring down the beer that I really thought I wanted an hour ago, but now it's turning my stomach as I get deeper into this conversation.

"Oh, yeah." Stephen winces. "Well, you do have to keep in mind that you are at a high school—and you are about their age, damn near."

He pops the tip of his bottle onto his lips and drinks. To be at that level of nonchalant is what I'm aspiring to be. But Stephen's about in his mid forties, so I'd assume that's part of the reason I haven't seen any female students giving him a second look.

"I haven't been a high school student in eleven years."

"Brings you back, doesn't it?"

"Nope." I shake my head, picking at the chipped bar top. "I was an outcast in high school. The quiet kid who had his headphones on and a composition book to draw in when I was supposed to be working on assignments, that was me."