The teacher's mate

#2

Elliot pov.

As the next class walks in, I suddenly smell the wonderful smell of freshly cut grass and parchment.

No, this can't be right. Did I get a second chance mate? I knew there was a chance, but I didn't expect to get it; it rarely happens. And besides, after all this time? My mate rejected me three years ago.

I didn't expect to find a second chance mate, especially not here and now. In high school of all places.

I look up carefully and have to restrain the urge not to claim her right away.

I look away quickly, and it seems she doesn't notice. This is so wrong. Is she even a wolf? She doesn't smell like one. Is this some sick joke from the moon goddess?

Give me a second chance mate, but an underage human being? I'm trying to hold back with everything I've got and keep my wolf Thunder under control.

"MATE! Claim her!" Demands Thunder.

"She's underage, you i***t, and we're in a high school." I reply.

"I don't care, just do it!" He says impatiently.

"NO! We have to find out if she's a wolf." I say and shut him out.

Hopefully, no one noticed.

I get up and look around the classroom. Luckily, she sat in the back.

Meanwhile, all the girls stare at me.

You'd think I'd be used to that after the morning I've had, but nothing could be further from the truth.

I should have known when I decided to teach at a human school.

We wolves simply look more attractive than the average human.

I start reading all the names, and when I say her name, she shyly raised her hand.

Cute.

At least now I know her name, so I can check her data later.

"Welcome to history." I start. "I can tell you why history is so important, but I better tell you why I find it so interesting. Hopefully, I can get you as excited as I do." I say and tell the story that I have already told about four times today.

Iris pov.

Nora and I sit at the back of the class. When I look at him, his eyes are just ordinary. Well, I wouldn't call it normal. He has beautiful gray eyes. As I stare at him, Nora unobtrusively nudges me. I have not heard him mention my name. I gently raise my hand.

He smiles briefly. Everything about him is fantastic. That little smile, his eyes, his perfect mouth.

I start to wonder what it would be like to kiss that lips.

I'm shocked about my own thoughts.

I'm not like that at all. Dreaming about some boy, let alone a teacher.

What's wrong with me?

As he explains why he finds history so interesting, I try not to look at him and think about something else. I stare outside; every now and then, I can't resist looking at him.

I'm trying to think of a way to convince my parents to have a birthday party. I'm turning 18 next Saturday, and I'd like to throw a party. I assumed they wouldn't mind, after all, 18 is a special age. But when I suggested it, they acted really weird, and now they insist on going away with the three of us the weekend I turn 18. To some remote holiday home in the middle of nowhere.

To avoid a big fight, I let it rest, but I don't feel like leaving at all. And certainly not to a house in the middle of nowhere.

Mr. Adams is doing a round of questions when I look at him again.

Someone asked if he had a girlfriend, and while answering, he looked straight at me. As if the answer he gives is meant for me.

His answer was no; I quickly looked away and started blushing. I have no idea why, I feel caught.

I've never been so glad that the class was over, even though the rest seem to disagree. A sound of disappointment fills the classroom.

Even the boys, who hung on his lips with every word he said, when he explained why he finds history so fascinating.

One thing is for sure, he loves history. The way he talked about history, I've never heard a teacher speak so enthusiastically about the subject.

The rest of the day passes slowly. In the hallways, people only talk about the new teacher.

On the way home, Stacy and I try to think of a way to convince my parents to let me throw a party.

But everything we come up with doesn't seem good enough.

"Maybe your best chance is, to calmly explain why you don't want to go to the middle of nowhere." Stacy says just before I get out. I sigh, "Yeah, I think you're right. I just don't understand why they suddenly want to leave now. We didn't do it those other years either." I say.

"Good luck; let me know how it went." She says as I get out.

"I will do." I answer and walk in.

When I come in, my mother is on the phone. She doesn't realize I'm coming in. Without saying anything, I walk to my room to tidy up my things.

"Yeah, but what if she is, she's almost 18. How do we know?" I hear my mother say as I walk downstairs.

Is this about me? I stop in the hallway to listen further. I know I shouldn't, but this has to be about me, and she sounds worried.

"In less than two weeks...Yes, she does have more appetite, but otherwise nothing...Okay, and what happens then?... Yes, we are going away that weekend...Okay, I'll call you when I know more. .. Bye."

What was that about? Is something wrong with me?

I tiptoe back up the stairs so she doesn't hear me. Then I walk a little louder than usual back downstairs. I'll pretend I didn't hear anything.

"Hi mum." I say cheerfully as I walk into the room. She startles, trying to figure out if I heard anything. "Oh hi honey, I didn't hear you come home." She says.

"I just got there. I immediately put my bag upstairs." I answer like I didn't hear anything. "Oh, okay, how was your day?" she asks, she is audibly relieved.

"The same as every year, boring." I answer as I sit down at the kitchen table. She gives me a cup of tea.

Another tradition we have is that every school day, I drink a cup of tea with my mother when I come home and tell her how my day was. The girls think that's weird. Maybe that's why we argue a lot less than others because we spend more time together.

"We do have a new history teacher, and he's hot as fuck." I say while taking a sip of tea. "Language!" My mother warns sternly.

"Sorry, sorry, I mean, he looks handsome." I say laughing.

"A history teacher?" She asks skeptically. "Yeah, everyone's talking about it." I say.

"So now you have a crush on your history teacher?" She asks laughing. I make a dirty face. "Ew, no! gross." I say, and we start laughing. Good, she's in a reasonable mood. Now's the time.

"Hey Mom, I wanted to ask you something." I say when we're done laughing. She looks at me questioningly.

"So, about my birthday. Can't we go another weekend? I really want to celebrate my birthday with my friends." I ask hopeful.

I see her thinking. "You can celebrate your birthday the following week." She finally says. I hang my head in disappointment.

"I just don't understand why we have to go to the middle of nowhere. There's nothing to do there, probably no internet. What the hell am I supposed to do there?" I whine.

Surely, there must be a way to convince her.

"Iris, we've already talked about this. We're not going to have this discussion again." She says, and I growl in frustration.

"IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!" I scream angrily and slide my chair back so hard that it falls over with a bang.

Stamping my feet, I walk upstairs and slam my door shut with a bang.

I throw myself onto the bed and scream into my pillow in desperation. I think about texting Stacy to let her know how it went.

Me: Well, s**t, she says I can celebrate the week after.

I add several angry emoticons.

It only takes a few seconds for her to answer.

Stacy: At least you can celebrate. More time to make it a blast. ;)

I have to laugh at her answer. She always knows how to say something positive.

I'm starting to feel a little guilty about my reaction. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten so angry.

I reluctantly walk downstairs to apologize. My father has come home, and I hear them talking.

"We have to watch out Earl; she's been very hot-tempered lately." I hear my mother say. She sounds concerned, just like this afternoon. I walk down a few steps to hear better, but the last step creaks. My parents stop talking.

Shit, busted.