Teach me Right, and I’ll Do you Wrong

Just a Student

“I’m so sorry for how I acted earlier,” Mr. Joshua said, his voice soft but deliberate. The classroom had emptied, leaving us alone by the emergency exit stairs. Just as I suspected, he was the one who had texted me, asking to meet after class.

I shifted awkwardly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I apologize too… for confronting you like that. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Obviously, I forgot our… difference,” I said, forcing a small, sheepish smile.

He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly. “It’s my fault too. That night… the way I acted—it wasn’t right. I should’ve thought ahead, especially knowing that you would be my student once you told me about your scholarship here.” His words sounded genuine, sincere in a way that made my chest tighten. On impulse, I reached out and lightly touched his hand.

What the hell am I thinking, Naomi?

“If you hadn’t approached me that night,” I whispered, “we might never have met. And… maybe I wouldn’t have felt like I belonged here in Manchester. I should’ve remembered you’re a teacher, and yet… I don’t know. Something about you… your look, the way you smelled that night… I couldn’t ignore it. I’ve never felt that kind of connection before. For once, I felt safe. You were the first person I really talked to when I arrived, and… you turned out to be this amazing guy. So… it’s on me.”

He chuckled softly. Goosebumps ran down my arms. I’d never heard someone chuckle like that before. There was something in the low, rough edge of his voice that made my heart race, and I couldn’t stop the warmth creeping up my neck.

Is this… attraction? Desire? I’ve never felt this way before. Not even one guy has made me feel like this. And yet, here he is.

“You know what,” he said after a pause, squeezing my hand briefly, “why don’t we just… act normal? From now on, I’m your teacher, and you’re my student. That’s it.”

His words stabbed straight through me. Heartache, sharp and sudden, settled in my chest. I shouldn’t feel this way. We just met. We’re so different. One night—just one night. And yet, I felt attached to him, wanting more than I should. Wanting him. Wanting… us.

“Look, Naomi,” he said, holding my hand with an intensity that made me tremble, “what happened between us… it can’t happen again. You’re nineteen, I’m twenty-four. You’re my student. I’m your teacher. It’s clear what that means. We can be friends, but nothing more. It was one night… one night only.”

He kissed my hand before letting go, a gesture that somehow made me ache and smile at the same time. “See you tomorrow,” he said, stepping toward the door of the fire exit. He paused, giving me one last look before he disappeared into the hallway, leaving me standing there, frozen, as students passed by.

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly, forcing myself to absorb his words. He was right. I couldn’t expect anything more from him. It happened too fast, it was only a night, and he’s my teacher. I had to stop being delusional.

I needed to move on. I needed to ground myself in reality: teachers and students don’t mix. I had just arrived in Manchester, and there were plenty of people and experiences waiting for me. My goal was simple: live a teenage life, explore, enjoy freedom. I didn’t need to rush anything. My father always said that rushing only made you miss wonderful opportunities.

And maybe… just maybe… that was exactly what I needed to remind myself now.