Teacher’s Pet

Blair Birken. One month earlier. Edward Christopher, the new English teacher is seating across me from the long table in the dining room. I cannot count how many times our eyes have gazed upon each other in the presence of my father, the mayor who keeps talking nonstop. I adjust for the what…the hundredth time? His presence makes me think about all the times we kissed in his office, along the hallway of the school, what his hands did under my school skirt. He is my teacher, and I am his student—this is a forbidden romance that shouldn’t exist. Yet it does. I don’t know why my father decided to call him to our house. I overhead him talking to his henchmen this morning about Edward. Somehow, my father found out that Edward has been snooping around and asking questions at Birken High—I wonder what my father is going to do to him. I have to warn Edward. Again, I have to save his life. “Sir, you have a phone call.” The housekeeper says, handing the phone to my father who excuses himself before leaving the dining room. “Get up!” I say to Edward and he uses a napkin to wipe his mouth. I quickly rush into the kitchen, making sure there are no housekeepers in there at first. I open the door, waiting for him to enter before I lock it behind us. “What is the matter with you!?” He asks, his figure dwarfs mine as I rest my back against the door. “Why—why are you here? Why did my dad invite you?” I ask, my chest is heaving intensely at his form. Now, that we are behind closed doors, I cannot help but stutter, forgetting the things I want to say. Every contour of his physique is accentuated by the fabric of his shirt which clings to his skin like a second layer. With each movement, the fabric stretches and contracts. His broad shoulders strain against the seams. Bulging biceps, snugged torso, tracing the lines of his abdomen as if sculpted by an artist's hand. “Is that the real reason you brought me here or are you just using that as a cover up?” He says, leaning against me and I stay glued to the door. “Edward…” I try to ask again. “Turn.” He says, his voice is assertive and I widen my eyes in shock. Edward leans into her, his strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling me close against him. “You made it clear that you are my teacher and this must never happen again.” I murmur at his face but his lips clasps on mine to shut me up. “I was wrong. You are my pet. You will always be my pet!” Edward says, and right after he says that, out lips collide in a hot, fervent kiss that shows how much we desire one another. I stretch my hands to the belt of his pants, and he pulls my skirt off in a rapid manner. It doesn’t matter to either of us that my father may be outside, the housekeepers can hear us, or my father’s bodyguards could spot us. Nothing matters as I dig my fingers into his skin, moaning into his ear and muffling our voices. *** The class is full of noise but my airpods are protecting me from it. I have been focused on my artwork for about fifteen minutes, the next class is taking time to start and I wonder why. Our English teacher, Mrs Crooks never takes this long to arrive for the next class So, what could it be? Did another student try to commit suicide in school? It’s always one thing or the other in Birken High—there is after all something called the ‘curse of Birken High’. Apart from the noise in the background, I have another reason why these AirPods are in my ears. I never come to school without them, I never let go of them. The ordeal happened last year but it feels as though it was only yesterday. Everyone still talks about it—I hear them whispering about it but no one can actually say it to my face. It could be because I’m Blair Birken, the daughter of the founder of this school. My family is known as the Birkens all around the state, I don’t think there is a person who hasn’t heard of my family. So, it’s obvious but I don’t have average parents. My great-grandfather built Birken High into what it is today, he was a scholar—a well-renowned man who cared about impacting knowledge in his society. He passed it to my grandfather. And my grandfather passed it to his four children. My father, Michael Birken, his last son, just happened to be the one with the greatest shares and thus, was voted director and ultimate decision-maker in the school. To add to it, my father is the mayor of Midwest City which makes me a golden daughter. There is nothing I wanted that I couldn’t have, I am never shocked at the extremities of life. Some people mistake it for pride but it isn’t. My parents diligently provide everything I want and it leaves no room to catch me surprised. Due to my way of life, I have been called self-centered, proud, rude, a rude bitch…what more is there? However, I must say, life became interesting last year when a new girl joined our class. Her name was Alice, and we became friends in a rather…special manner. Although she wasn’t the type of person that fit in our clique…it didn’t matter to me. She was easygoing, she didn’t talk to me bearing in mind that my father was the mayor, Alice simply saw me. However, something happened that ruined everything. It made the school close for three weeks and it put each and every one of us involved in a tough spot. My father took care of it, but it wasn’t easy. I still dream about that day. I cannot forget the incident…it makes my eyes water and my heart palpitate. As my sketchbook is open like a portal to another world, my pencil flies across the paper, lines blurring together in a frenzy of motion. My breathing quickens, matching the rhythm of my rapid sketches as my mind races to keep pace with her hand. My brow furrows in concentration, lips pressed into a determined line. “Blair!” One of my airpods is taken out of my ear and I turn to look at Avery, my friend. “What the hell are you thinking of!?” She scowls at me and I face forward to see the principal addressing the class. I exhale, taking out the other airpod from my ear to understand what he’s saying. “So, I hope you will accommodate Mr. Edward as he takes over. Please, introduce yourself to the class.” With his shoulders squared and chin lifted, the principal gestures the person at his side and I lay my eyes upon the man in question. Dressed in a crisp white shirt that hugs his toned physique, there is a man who has the grace of a Greek god. He is tall, far elevated above the principal and there is nothing sharper than his square jawline. On his face a well-trimmed beard, and a set of piercing gray eyes, framed by black-rimmed glasses. The fabric stretches over his broad shoulders and chiseled chest. Despite the scholarly accessory, there's an undeniable hint of mystery and allure in his stance. My eyes are on him, and they are not leaving anytime soon. Just who is he? Adjusting the rims of his glasses is a movement enough to make the fabric of his shirt shift, emphasizing the contours of his body. Behind me, I can hear the other classmates whisper—I’m not the only one who can see exactly what is happening. Others are fawning over him too. “Hello, everyone.” He starts and I swear, I felt a rumble of his voice. “Good morning. My name is Edward, and I'm thrilled to be joining Birken High as your new English teacher. As an educator, I believe in the power of curiosity, creativity, and connection. I'm here to challenge the status quo, to push the boundaries of traditional education, and to ignite a spark of enthusiasm in every one of you.” He says he and his voice are a deep, velvety rumble, like the distant roll of thunder on a summer night. Behind me, the class joins their hands together, clapping for him. They had never clapped for a teacher before, not one, and not even Mrs Crooks when she gave us an extra ten marks on our essay. And what did he say, he is our teacher…you mean, we will be having this man three days a week!? “School just got better!” Avery says and I chuckle, overhearing everyone’s conversation and what they think. “Are you kidding me? What is he, an actor?” “I swear! I’m never gonna skip a day of school.” While the clapping dies down, I watch as the principal shakes Edward and I place my hands over each other. I usually know things that are going on in school, even the internal things. Why didn’t I hear that Mrs Crooks was going to be changed? I’m not complaining but still, I don’t like to be shocked. But this type of shock, I do like it. For a split second, after he is done conversing with the principal, the new teacher stares back, and when he looks at the class—his gaze is on mine. Flustered, I held it for I believed it would only be for a millisecond but no. He holds his gaze on me for two, no, three seconds and I hold my breath. Did he just lock his gaze on me? Or am I going crazy? The principal leaves the class and there is complete silence. This is also weird, Class B doesn’t ever give a teacher the chance to speak. “Okay, how about we start by introducing ourselves?” He says, his hands coming together for a clap as he begins to walk towards the front of the class. I straighten my back, unintentionally. I don’t know why I did that. But I quickly brush my hair, straightening it with my fingers and watching how he confidently walks. He is different. He is too confident for a teacher in Birken. A majority of the students in Birken are the offspring of conglomerates. They are spoiled, not afraid to say what goes on in their mind and teachers tend to go around them. They are especially careful with us seniors; one word of complaint from a student could end the lifetime career of a teacher. So, for this…Mr Edward…the one who has his hands in his pocket—holding a posture that is lacking intimidation. It’s hard not to take note of him. It’s hard to not be captivated by his mannerisms. “Let’s start with you.” He says, tapping on Gabriella's desk. I watch his fingers as it lands, a subtle tap. Not too loud, not too soft…just perfect. Gabriella jumps in joy, smiling sheepishly and placing one hand on her chest as if she’s about to pledge the nation’s anthem. “I’m Gabriella, Mr Edwards.” She says, blushing like a tomato in the oven. “It’s Edward, Gabriella.” He corrects and I chuckle slightly. The whole classroom laughs, jesting and mocking Gabriella. After her, those in her row introduce themselves and he seems interested, nodding his head as he steps into the second row. I’m in the third row and at any moment, he would be near me. I wait, closing my drawing book and keeping my pencil away from my hand. And just as he is entering my row, the door of the classroom opens, drifting his attention away, and the principal steps in. “Excuse me….” The principal says, his eyes scanning the classroom until it falls on me. “Blair, your attention is needed.” He says and Edward looks back at me. Directly at me. Once again, we lock eyes. Is it me or does he already know who I am? How does he know it’s me that the principal is talking to? I ask myself. “Blair?” The principal says again and I rise from my seat, straightening my skirt. As Edward is on the path, I have to walk past him to get out. When I’m near him, I perceive hints of leather and wood, and for the first time since I’d been watching his fingers. I see a ring. It’s on the finger that signifies a vow. No, he’s married.