I kept my eyes on her as she walked away with her friend, laughing about something and leaving me alone in the class with a pang of arousal and guilt.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and erased the filthy, corrupting thoughts from my head. They were just that,thoughts.
Empty desires and nothing more.
I got a ping on my phone and checked the message. I exhaled sharply, seeing a text from Clyde Miller.
Clyde:Good luck on your first day of teaching! As Mia would say, ‘Go and get some.’
Me:Thank you, but for the love of God, please never ever repeat—or type that sentence again.
Clyde:Yeet
Me:-_-
Clyde:XD Gottem
Me:I have a couple more classes, so see you around, old man.
Clyde:Ay, don’t forget about today’s dinner!
My brows furrowed, and I had to check my calendar’s app to see that I had blocked my evening with ‘Dinner @ Miller’s House - Gift’ from four to eight in the evening.
Shit, I have to get the gifts, too.
Having dinner with them every other week or every month had started since I met Clyde, but I had avoided going to his house. It stopped briefly over a few years when I went abroad to further my knowledge about Green engineering and working on a few projects, but we had started our dinner rituals again since last year. I’d either visit them or they would visit my house. Gifting was optional, but we gladly appreciated alcohol and books with some sort of dessert, as both Clyde and his daughter had an extremely sweet tooth.
My phone vibrated in my hand, and I glanced at the upcoming message from him.
Clyde:By the lack of your response, either your class has started, or you forgot about the dinner.
Me:I didn’t exactly forget about it. I’ll be there, don’t worry.
After all, I have never missed a single dinner or lunch with them.
* * *
The first dayof school ended with a small email from the dean, who wanted to make sure we were all on our best behaviors and showing enthusiasm for the year.
As much as I had fun teaching students about design, space, and colors, I missed being in my private office. The solitude and quietness that came with drafting on sheets, the rough but comfortable sound of lead pencil drifting through the paper, and my loud head brimming with ideas to turn the dream of my clients into a reality.
But I was teaching, sharing my secrets with young minds, and I knew it would help them in their future. I just had to teach until the contract ends.
Packing my notes in the briefcase, I closed the lights in the office that the school had offered me. It was a comfortable room with a couch, desk and chairs, bookshelves, a little storage room and even a bathroom. Considering it was a private academy, no wonder they offered such luxuries to teachers as well, with their high pay.
I remembered my public school and how tiny the teachers’ office was, and they didn’t have their own office or an entire building to themselves. You’d have to go to the ground floor and hope that the teacher wasn’t busy to help you with your doubts.
“James.”
I paused and looked at the dark hair of the familiar figure. Removing my black-framed glasses, I stood beside her. “What are you doing here, Mia?”
From what I knew after the teacher’s orientation, students rarely crossed over to the teachers’ building unless it was really important. My eyes zeroed in on her face, her arms and legs. Not noticing any bruise, I tilted my head, “Are you in trouble?”
STUDIES AND CHILL
JAMES
“Are you in trouble?”