It’s almost as though he’s avoiding looking at me. Is he embarrassed too? To be called out for our flirtatious exchange?

Dread coils in the pit of my stomach.

Maybe I should request a schedule change. I’ll have him next semester too. Can I really put up with another several months of feeling like this?

Each of my breaths grows more shallow than the previous ones. I’m lightheaded and dizzy. Panic attacks aren’t unusual for me, but they don’t often happen at school. Home is where these feelings tend to render me immobile.

Breathe, Willa. Breathe.

It’s hard to breathe, though, when you feel your world closing in around you. My vision darkens around the edges and I fear I might pass out. Because that won’t be embarrassing or anything.

Mr. Park’s deep voice draws me out of my inner turmoil. As he begins his lecture, discussing statistical inference and confidence intervals, the tension in my neck and shoulders slowly releases. I fall victim to the hypnotic, calming cadence of his words.

All my worries, for a moment, have ceased to exist.

The only thing remaining is him.

His rumbling, authoritative tone. The expensive, manly scent of his cologne that fills my nostrils each time I enter this classroom. A comforting presence, warming me to my core.

When I glance up, a flash of heat rushes through me. He’s no longer wearing his suit jacket and stands with his back to us, writing out a few terms we’ll need to know. The writing on the smartboard is the same neat scrawl that he’d written “Nice work” on my test.

As much as I want to stare at his ass that seems to be the real object of study right now, I buckle down and focus on his notes instead. My life might be a mess, but above all, I’m a good student. Especially for him.

I’d give just about anything for another wink.

Anything for more of his praise.

Chapter Three

Callum

Rage bubbles up inside me. It’s taking everything in me not to lose my shit on the entire class. I need to focus on my lecture, but I’m physically vibrating with fury. My voice is tight and clipped as I recite my notes. I wish I’d had a pop quiz prepared that I could give them so I could cool off a bit.

As much as I want that innocent, sweet thing on her knees with my aching cock in her pretty mouth, it’s not the reason she’s passing my class with nearly a perfect grade. She earned it. Studied while all the other idiots in here were goofing off.

Times like these, I’m reminded why it probably wasn’t a good idea for me to become a teacher. Where most people go into education because of honorable intentions, I’d done it to piss off my father.